The clouds loomed over the city like a watchful parent, monotone colors blended together to match the mood of the people who lied beneath these drifiting skies. Bereft, that was the feeling. This day was especially groggy; unusually hot and humid, with a feeling that resulted in the neighbor hood to be dipped in a fatigue fog. The apartments themselves looked decrepit, the ancient bricks smeared in lazy zig-zagging lines, bricks that held the rooms of the people that lived there, and that have watched generation after generation pass through the rat infested walls. On the sidewalks walked people. As if they were in a haze. Scraggly teenagers sat on the stoops of whatever building was closest, clad in trashy sweatshirts. Their hair hung loose in their face, each hair glittered with the oil of their scalp. Their eyes were concielled by the dark locks of hair, all were silent.
It was from here, the cries of a woman could be heard. As a matter of fact, of woman who had gone into labor. It was on this day, of June 16, during the year of 1988, that a child would be born.
The Childhood
The Birth
After arriving at the hospital, the laboring mother had been successfully transported to the delivery room. Now on a hospital bed, she lied. She had been put into a hospital gown, a calming sea foam green, with darker spruce dots. Such a design was used to be calming to the patient, although far from pleasant, but the idea was still the standard in most hospitals. The woman screames again, another wave of contractions has strucken her abdomen. Tears flowed rapidly down her eyes, streakes of eye liner and mascara quickly followed after. Not only for the pain she cries, but for the fact of bearing a child in the first place.
A doctor soon arrived into the room, coming in from behind a parade of nurses. The nurses mutter to one another, and then to the mother herself. She launches into the Breathing Method. An exercise where one constantly inhales and exhales to control the contractions.
The doctor begins to talk; quietly, but firmly, his voice is deep. He is constantly barking out orders for this woman to forfill. Whether be the positioning of her body, or the way she breathes, she follows with no rebellion. Hours pass, and the labor continues. The woman's screaming begins to subside, and a nurse wipes away a coating of sweat that has built up on the brow of the woman. The labor begins to slow, the contractions become less frequent, as the baby has almost completely exited the mother. A wail can be heard from the child, almost comparable to the shrill cry of an animal when injured. A final push of the mother and the child is released. The umbillical cord is severed, the bond that connected both mother, and now son, has been broken.
Time passes, and the nurses handle the new boy. This child is handed to the woman, she tiredly cradles him in her arms. The baby's crying has ceased, and a yawn escapes the newborn mouth. A nurse silently approaches the mother. A warming smile is on her face.
“Have you come up with a name yet?” The nurse asks, obviously fond of children. The mother turns to the nurse, a tired, artifical grin is on her face. A wave of angered sarcasm was approaching.
“Yeah, I have.” The newly mother nods.“Here's the first two sylliables: fuck-off.”
Ages 1-4
Weeks pass, and the baby has been deemed Tyler, his nickname being Ty for short. The mother brings him home to the appartment, although not the perfect enviornment for a child, it is his home. The rooms of the appartment are cramped, and there is only one bedroom. A crib fresh from the clearance bin has been delivered by one of the mother's multiple boyfriends, who works at a low class department store. The paint of the crib has been worn by the fingers of picky shoppers, the cushion for the bed has frayed from the returning of unsastified customers. The mother walks into the living room, though small the room is bright with a bright beige color. Cradiling Ty, his mother sits on the couch.
They watch television together, mostly reality shows and drama sitcoms, and things the mother likes to watch. Every now and then, a commercial with a dancing animal, or clown appears on the television. Ty, amused by the silly acting, laughs with glee. The mother rolls her eyes, and distastefully switches to another channel.
The baby has reached 19 weeks of age, his once bald head now covered with smooth black locks of hair. His baby hands are fixed to his mouth, his yellow eyes searching the room, searching for his mother. He is laying on the couch, the tv has been left on, a few old stuffed animals are by his side, a blue rabbit he deemed as “gub-gub” is used as a makeshift pillow. He watches clowns juggle bowling pins on the screen, he smiles contently.
A knock on the door is heard. The mother emerges from the bedroom, her boyfriend is sleeping in the bed. She dresses at lightning speed, picks at her hair a little, then goes to the door. Bolts and locks are undone, and the door swings open.
From the dimness of the hallway lights, walks in a tall man. He wears a dark, musky green fedora hat. His hair is white from old age, his yellow eyes sparkle with wisdom. A large smile is on his face.
“Okay Princess, where's my brand spankin' new grandson!” The man says a big smile of his emmerges, the mother rolls her eyes. She points over to the couch, where the child is sitting.
Mother walks over to the baby, picking him up lazily.
“Hey Ty this is grandpa,” she speaks flatly, holding him out to the scrawny grandparent. Grandpa picks him up with ease, and brings him close to his face. They spend a second looking at each others matching yellow eyes. Eyes that are much more brilliant than the boring brown eyes the mother has.
A smile following a gurgle escapes Ty's mouth, he lifts a hand, smacking it babyishly against Grandpa's cheek. Grandpa's eyes grow wide.
“Wow this kid's got quite the arm! Haha!” He laughs as he lifts Ty into the air, and Ty himself joins in his grandfather's laughter. During this laughing spree, the mother's current boyfriend sneaks akwardly out the door, and all but the click of the door is made by him. As soon as the laughing ended, the mother went into the bathroom to shower. Ty and Grandpa go and sit on the couch, Grandpa swiitches Sesame Street for the baby.
As the two watched tv, the mother told Grandpa to watch Ty for her, as she wanted to go hang out with some “pals,” of hers. She said she would be back later tonight, Grandpa agreed no problem.
The routine of Grandpa babysitting Ty became natural for the two. The mother decided to go out more and more often, for longer periods of time. Soon enough Grandpa had grown weary of the thought of poor Ty being cooped up in that smelly apartment all day long. Responsibly, Grandpa told his daughter that Ty would be with him at his house, she gave the ok without a care and told him she had to go to a party soon. Grandpa sighed, hanging up the phone, and they drove off to his house.
Grandpa's house was one of massive proportions (compared to the apartment), it was as if Ty had landed on another planet, or maybe even heaven. He was nearly 2 years old, and could have a somewhat decent conversation with his grandfather. Whenever he went over to this house, he had to blink away tears from the painful blue sky that soared above him. They traveled the yard behind the house, looking at the grass, and watching ants travel in a straight line. A world full of order.
At the age of three, grandpa went on and on about exciting stories of cowboys and indians and massive battles with the nazis in world war 2. Although not quite smart enough to connect the fact that some of these stories were indeed ficitional, Ty loved them all the same. There came a time where he would stay with Grandpa for weeks on end. His mother didn't even bother to come at all. It was as if she was a distant aunt, he did miss her. Even though she was more like a stranger to him, she was his mother after all. But he had decided, that he never wanted to leave this nice house. That he would stay with Grandpa. Where he could see the blue sky all the time, and not from the confines of a crowded appartment, through a dusty old window. Even if his eyes teared up whenever he tried to look.
On his fourth birthday, his mother had boughten him a fuzzy brown jacket, and a grey toy car, both she never bothered to wrap. She brought in a cake, that spelled out the “Happy Birthday, Ty”, in sloppy letters, but Ty was a bundle of hyperactivity by the time he finished his 2nd piece of cake. After all the presents, his mother came and hugged him distantly, and told Grandpa that she would be away for a while. Grandpa became more and more woresome for Ty's mother. For her face had become skinnier, and her clothes were lose on her small limbs. He hid his worry from Ty as best as he could. Grandpa guessed that his daughter had became a fan of drugs, he mentally prayed for his misguided daughter.
That was when disaster struck, in the middle of the night a month later, Grandpa got the call that Ty's mother had been found in an alley, and had died from overdose of heroin. Ty's grandfather couldn't bare to wake up the motherless boy up, not at this hour. The following day, Grandpa treated Ty to a whole day of fun. They went to the park, where he attempted to teach Ty how to catch a ball, and eventually Ty got the hang of it. Next they went out to lunch, where for desert Ty got a sundae with heaping scoops of chocolate chip icecream, which including the traditional cherry and peanuts. Then, near the end of the day, Grandpa decided it was time.
“Ty, I got something to tell you,” Grandpa said, his eyebrows furrowed. A sad smile laid plain across his aged mouth, but it quickly faded. He knelt down to Ty's level.
“What is it, Grandpa?” Ty piped, he cocked his head to the left, his yellow eyes searching his grandfather's face for an emotion, for a signal. “What's wrong?” He asked, pressing his lips together, his eyebrows furrowed as well. He put his hands on Grandpa's kneecaps.
Grandpa paused for a moment, he began nodding his head and a sigh had escaped him. He turned his gaze back to his grandchild. “Ty,” he paused, “you know your mommy likes to go out a lot, right?” He asked, his shoulders hunched.
The boy nodded his head, a sad smile formed on his face. “Mommy likes to for a long long time,” he said. He looked away, trying to form what he was going to say next. He turned back to Grandpa. “But it's really, really great when she's around!” He piped with his high pitched voice.
This look he had on his face, really was heart breaking to Grandpa. He could only feel deep, and sincere pity for his grandchild. A child who rarely got to see his mother, a mother who didn't treat him as best as she could. And yet, through the weeks and holidays she didn't bother to
spend with him, he loved her all the same. It was as natural as breathing to him.
Slowly Grandpa begin to feel his heart sink deeper, and deeper into his stomach for the child. How would he be able to tell he would never see the one he loved most ever again? How would he ever be able to tell him? Grandpa silently fumbled over this question for a few seconds, and the seconds felt like years to Grandpa. After 2 minutes, Ty who was bored, began looking around the room they were in. The living room to be exact.
“Ty, your mommy was really tired,” Grandpa reluctantly explained. He could already see Ty's face wash over in confusion.
“So, when is she coming to pick me up? Is she gonna come over after she wakes up? I haven't seen her in a long, long time!” He asked, his eyes full of wonder, of curiosity. It was only natural for a child to want to know where their parents were.
“She,” The old man held out the word, he began tripping over words. He could feel the tears surging to the corners of his eyes, he blinked them back. He would not cry in his grandson's view, not right in front of him. “She will be gone for a while, Ty.” Grandpa gave up, best it better be now, he thought. He waited for Ty's reaction.
Ty backed away from his grandfather. His toddler hands clasped together in a death grip. His cheeks were flushed red, his lower lip was trembling. Tears began flowing rapidly down his youthful skin, he hiccuped with tears.
“W-why can't I-I see mom-mommy?!” Ty spat, trying to choke back the tears. He realized now that he had missed his mother more than he had thought. These chokeful tears turned into loud sobs. Sobs that racked through his body, as if he had been strucken by lightning.
It had been a while since Grandpa had seen his poor grandson cry. Unlike most babies, Ty had been almost god sent when it came to crying, this child was tear free most of his life. But when he did, it was a soft and was almost adult like. But now Ty had reverted to reacting like a child. The sobs became unnaturally louder.
“Shhh, Ty,” spoke Grandpa, he walked over and hugged the crying boy. Ty turned his face into the comforting shoulders, and sobbed into the sweatshirt of his grandfather. His crying began to cease.
For the rest of the night, Grandpa would wake up to the sounds of Ty crying in the other room, he wondered what Ty would do when it was time to go to the funeral, and he would have to see his mother in the casket. In her bed, to “sleep” forever. He wanted to comfort the child, but he knew that doing that would make it harder for him to except his mother's death. He wouldn't bare for that to happen. Ty was going to have to learn it the hard way, unfortunantly. Grandpa thought of how hard of a topic death was to accept, barely impossible for an adult, umimaginable for a child.
The next day, Ty refused to get out of the room he had slept in. Grandpa had found that the bed had been untouched, still neatly tucked away from when he made the bed the previous day. Ty had never changed into his pajamas, blue cotton pajamas that had the popular Captian Planet super hero on them. Grandpa asked Ty if he had slept at all that night, the child nodded a no, his eyes dull and reddened from crying.
The following night when it was time for bed, Grandpa tucked the child into bed himself. “Now, Ty,” He said, “Your mother would be sad to see you acting like a little kid,” he said, lying. “I want you to be a big boy, and sleep, even for a little bit is good. You hear me?” He spoke, a sad smile on his face as he began playfully rustling the kid's black hair. Ty continued frowning, although this usual gesture made his face light up.
“I'm not tired, and I don't want to be a big boy,” Ty pouted, his arms crossing over the green blankets that were on top of him. His eyes began to burn with tears, again. “I-I won't sleep until I can see m-mom-my,” His breathing became hard, as it always did when he cried. His vision blurred through the watery tears. Grandpa sighed, and sat over besides Ty on the adult sized bed. He picked up a trashy grey teddy bear, one of the few gifts that his mother had bought him. “Hey Ty, Mr. Bear here will tell mommy that you aren't being a big boy,” He made the bear dance a bit. “Come on Ty-Guy, be a big boy” Grandpa said, changing his voice to a high pitch squeal to make as if the bear was talking.
“I know dat's you making the voice, Grandpa,” Ty said, yawning. “But I'm really, really tired..so I'm gonna...” Apparently Ty was too tired to finish the sentence, by the time Grandpa had looked down at his grandchild, he was already fast asleep.
Days passed, and now it was the day of the funeral. A day for worry, to Grandpa. Grandpa had dressed up Ty, in a cute looking suit, with a tie and the works. Ty even made a sad joke that his name was Ty, and he wore a tie around his neck. Grandpa laughed along with him. They both drove to the funeral home, it was time for the Wake. It took about an hour to get there, and there weren't many people who had came for Ty's mother. Infact, it was mostly just a bunch of distant family members who came to see the dead woman. Sad.
The priest began speaking the basic things he was payed to say at the wake. Such as readings from the bible, and what not. Then, it was time for those of the families to see the mother, in her open casket.
Although Ty's mother didn't have the best personality, she was indeed beautiful. She had her father's shining black hair, and her mothers pale, flawless skin. Simple beauty. She was dressed in a light pink dress, Her hands were locked together with a white neckless with a cross on it. Her casket was flooded with flowers, going from roses to tulips, to daisies. The funeral home was fragrent with the scent of them. A velvet carpet with a mat was on the floor, it led to the side of the casket. The mat was present so the mourners could kneel down to see the decieased one.
Grandpa had let the other members go first, and Ty and Grandpa waited on the other side of the room, the casket's open side not visiable to them. When it was their turn to go, Grandpa turned to his grandchild. “Are you sure you want to do this, Ty?” He asked, holding out his hand.
Ty looked back to Grandpa, frowned and wiped some tears away from his rosy cheeks. “Yeah, I'm a big boy!” He said, sniffling a little. He took his Grandpa's hand. Grandpa knelt knelt down to his level, one hand holding his, the other going up to Ty's shoulder. “Now, Ty, if you get scared or want to cry I want you came come back over to me, understand?” Grandpa asked, squeezing Ty's shoulder a little bit. Ty nodded, no verbal response was needed.
They both walked over to the casket, and Grandpa stopped. “I want you to see your mommy first, Ty.” He said, as he gave a little nudge to the child. “I'll be right here if you need me, just tell her how much you love and miss her.” He said with a sad smile, his eyes were brimming with tears.
Reluctantly, Ty walked over to the casket, he could see his mother's pale, cold face. He got a chill down his spine, for he knew she wasn't breathing. And a heavy feeling of sadness began to sweap over him, for he realized she would never be there to see him on his next birthday, or to see how he can catch a ball now. A few minutes passed, and he had realized he was crying. He went on his tip toes so he could get a better view of his mother. He grasped the side of the coffin.
“Mommy,” He piped in a quiet voice, “I-I miss you, and I d-don't want you to have to be gone!” He got louder, the tears were streaming now. “I-I'm sorry you didn't want t-to s-stay with m-me mom-mommy I r-really am!” The sobs came in, “W-whatever I d-did to m-make you s-sad I'll never d-do it again! W-why'd you have to leave muh-muh-me?!” By the time he was finished, Grandpa picked him up. And hugged him tightly. “I think it's time to go home, Ty,” Grandpa whispered.
