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In Pursuit of Peace

Sarah hugged me, slowly rocking side to side. Her face was pale and a mixture of mascara and tears painted abstract lines down her flushed cheeks. She was quiet, only letting the loud rhythm of her heartbeat and her quick, sharp breaths break the thick, foggy silence.

Sarah hugged me, slowly rocking and yet the world was still. I felt nothing.

Sarah was my sister; she was beautiful and bright. She understood the world in ways that very few people ever will. Every sound she made was a song; everything she touched turned to art. Her dark eyes and hair stood out, contrasting her pale pigment and creating a dramatic beauty that every girl lusted for. She was tall and thin, with a slim figure that boys admired. I was none the same; I was curvy, a bit pudgy, with gold undertones in my skin, gold eyes and golden hair. I was one of those girls you look at once, then let fade to the corners of your mind. I was always forgotten, but Sarah never was.

She was always there for me, and this time was no exception. She loved me despite the fact I had not always been her sister. The family says I am a blessing to them, that they had always wanted just one more daughter. They say God put me in that orphanage near them to be the last little part of their family, that it was all a heaven-sent. I say there is nothing blessed about the way my parents died and if there is a God, He should find me. I thought about it, I thought hard, and I still felt nothing.

"Belle, honey, you need to let your emotions out. Please, sis, please show something.

You can't hold this in forever," She hugged me tighter and I said nothing. I could feel her heart beat quicken, her face grew hot. I looked up to see her tears begin to rage. All the sensitivity I had gotten vanished and then anger kicked in. "Say something, please, God, say something. Anything! You won't speak and you won't eat; you're withering away! Belle, for God's sake, do something!"

"I want to talk to my husband," I stated, "I will talk to him. I'd like to talk to him."

"Belle, I understand this is hard for you. Justin is no longer with us, babe. Please understand, Belle, he's not here."

"You're not funny, Sarah. You must understand, my husband is in the war. He's just away. He'll be back. He wrote me this letter; I opened it, he's being sent back here. He should be here now."

"Listen to me, Belle. That's the letter regarding his death. Your husband was a brave soldier of our country, but with war comes a price. Your husband is home, sweetie. We watched his flag-covered coffin as it lowered to its place of rest..."

"Stop saying that! You're lying! It's not funny anymore! Where is my husband?"

"Your husband is dead, Belle! Your husband isn't here! Your husband is in God's house now and you're in denial! You watched the funeral! You were in the church! You sat there stone cold!"

"He's not gone! He can't be gone!"

"Honey, he's not gone forever, he's just... with God."

Suddenly, I felt every emotion that I hadn't felt since I was six years old pushing on the back of my eyes. I felt guilt weighing down my stomach and sorrow stabbing at my heart. I felt rage throbbing in my head and my thoughts spewing out my mouth. I could not stay quiet anymore. I would not.

"Stop mentioning God, Sarah. Stop! God doesn't exist! There is no God out there for people like me. We're the lost, the forgotten... we give and give and all He does is take away! Explain to me this: If your God is out there, then why does everyone around me keep dying? First my parents, then this? I finally learn to love again, then this? Do you remember, Sarah? Do you remember waiting for your parents to come home? Do you remember hearing that they were hurt? Or going to the hospital? Or being too late? Do you remember late nights just crying sitting up in an orphanage, cold and alone? Do you remember how you swore that you would never let yourself hurt the way you did then? No, Sarah. You don't. But I do. And finally, after all you have been through you learn to love again. Happily ever after? Then a bomb is dropped on your life and kills the only hope you had to love again. And you expect me to believe that there is some being sitting in the sky wishing us good fortune and helping us through bad times? Then, tell your God to find me, because, honestly Sarah, there is no reason for me to be here. Everything I love has been taken from me. Explain that."

Sarah sat there, silent. She was burned by my words; I could see it in her eyes. She just sat there and... cried. Inside, she was searching, desperately searching for words, but simply could not find them. She turned away as she noticed I was struggling at the sight of her. Physically, Sarah had changed. Her confident, cheery disposition had receded into this... this child, with her innocent eyes unable to hide the pain she was feeling. She tried to speak, and finally, she did.

"Everyone you love has died, Belle? Everyone? What about me? What about Mom? What about our Dad and our brothers? What about your friends, Belle?"

"I don't have friends..."

"Bull crap. People love you. So many people love you and you will never know because you simply will not give them the time of day. You cut yourself out of society, distancing yourself from everyone and anyone willing to talk to you. You don't love anything or anyone, and I know it's because you try your very best not to love at all. You are always cold and distant. But, Belle, listen to me. For once, listen! People out there are willing to help you and listen to you. They want the best for you, believe it or not. God is giving you opportunities to get to know Him and you... you're avoiding them. He wants to help you, so stop being stuck-up and self-centered. Give the world a chance. Say a prayer. And, for once, maybe you will actually feel happiness and peace at mind."

Sarah turned and left the room. The room spun and my head ached. I was confused... I didn't know what to believe. My soul yearned for something hopeful to hang onto, but I was too stubborn to find it all these years. I wanted to be mad at the world and ended up mad at myself. I wanted to apologize to my sister and thank her for all of the years she had been there for me... but there was only one way to do that.

I got down on my knees, folded my hands, bowed my head and prayed, the way I did every night with my parents when I was six years old and finally... finally, I felt peace.

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