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The Orphan Essay

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Just looking at her in her white coffin, looking glum, made me feel so isolated and depressed. I just wanted one last hug with her and to take back my vicious words that I now regret. Deep down I always loved her, though she could be a pain. The words of last week were ringing in my ear, repeating and echoing over and over again. As I was in my daze, I had a feeling and turned around to see my aunt’s cold, hard eyes staring back at me. I then realised she had no compassion or love for my mother.

The journey to the church made me feel insecure and miserable. I looked out of the car and saw fields of daffodils and poppies, in a desolate landscape, reminding me of the time when me and my mother used to run through them when I was a youthful child. This memory faded as I reached my destination at the church. Everyone was gathering to go inside, looking all teary eyed and distressed. A lady in a large black hat came up to me and mumbled “I’m so sorry for your loss.” She handed me a tissue, and slowly walked away.

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I sat down in my seat and the ceremony began. A thought just struck me. I was now an orphan, having lost my father in a car accident. I have neither a mother nor a father. Where was I supposed to go? My thoughts were paused when the chilling feeling came again from before. A tall, thin lady overshadowed me. It was Aunt Tuatha. Completely ignoring me, she came and sat down next to me.

As the ceremony continued, I thought about last week when my emotions and feelings exploded and targeted my rage at my mother. I didn’t mean half of the things I said that night. I was just upset and needed a reason to let my feelings all out. I am usually a calm and quiet person but my outward calm can often disguise hurt and anger in the way I feel and express myself. I don’t express my rage in any verbal or physical fights, I just usually keep them bottled up to myself. When my feelings do, however explode, the explosion is much bigger and destructive than usual, especially the one with my mother. I find myself extremely ashamed afterwards. I need to learn to find useful ways to express my feelings rather than suppressing them. My mother always used to say that to me. I know now that she was right.

I looked over at Aunt Tuatha, who gave me a ghastly glare. She ignored me once again. No one never really liked her. She’s alaways been alone, in her large eerie house. She’s known as a very bitter and indignant person, who doesn’t really make any contact with anyone. She’s always seen dressed in dark and gloomy colours and keeps a stern face which never shows any emotion. She seems vexed and ill-tempered. Her eyes reminded me of my mother’s, big and blue, like a cat’s eyes. The blue in her eyes reminded me of the time when we went to the beach on a hot summer’s day. The sun shone brightly on the glistening blue sea. I would always run along the sand and she would always catch me in her arms. We spent the day on the beach and watch as the sun went down, giving the sky a beautiful sunset with colours of pink, purple, blue and orange. My mother was always such a kind and loving person. The complete opposite to Aunt Tuatha. Any person named Tuatha would have to be evil and loathe life.

My mother was very individualistic and struggled with her life as she had no one to depend on as my father had died only two months after I was born. She was the one who would always pick me up from school, make my tea, and do the shopping. There was no father figure in my life and I guess that’s what made I hard on mum. The past few days have been really difficult for me since I was always depended on her. She did everything for me, and I appreciate everything she did.

The somber funeral ceremony ended. Close relatives, their faces shrouded in black veils, clutched each other during the hour-long ceremony, began standing up.

After the service, mother’s coffin, which was pure white, embroidered with gold was carried by four men, suited in black, shuddering slightly in the breeze.

I glanced over at the car that my mother’s coffin was carried in. It was black and the inside was showered with different types of flowers, all fresh and presented in a beautiful way. There was a group of flowers put together spelling my mother’s name, in Lilies. Lilies were my mother’s favourite flower, because she believed that they represent purity and a sign of love. I approached the car and took out a lily from the group. I slowly paced myself to my mother’s grave, and laid the lily on it. It was my way of saying sorry and forgive me and that I will always love you forever. I walked away, and didn’t look back.

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