Writing 101, Day Seven: Give and Take
Focus today’s post on the contrast between two things. The twist? Write the post in the form of a dialogue.

Console with a Broken Heart

I walked into my brother’s house. He looked up; his eyes were red.

“How come you are here?” he asked.

“I come to see if you are ok.”

“How could I? My mother died.” He cried.

“She is my mother, too. We miss her, but we have to move on.”

“You don’t understand. Mom and I had a special bond.” He cried louder.

“How do you know she and I didn’t?” I asked.

“I know you didn’t. No one had that special bond with Mom like I did. Not you, not Karin, not anyone.”

“OK. OK. So, you had a special bond with Mom. Doesn’t that mean you have to be strong for her, more than I do?”

“You just don’t understand. Mom trusted me. She loved me.”

“Why do you think I drove two hours to be here? I love you too. And I want you to feel better.”

“That’s different. Mom really believed in me. She thought I could achieve anything.”

“I am sure she expects you to live a good life. Do it for her, please.” I started begging.

“I don’t want to live a good life! She was not supposed to die.” He blew his nose and then covered his face with his hands.

“Eighty year old is considered as longevity, you know,” I said quietly.

“But she was healthy. She was not supposed to die.”

“I know. I was shock too.”

“She was supposed to live at least 10 more years.”

“I agree. But she died, and we have to accept that.”

“I don’t accept it!” he shouted, as if he wanted someone up there to hear him.

I watched him cry. I felt helpless.

“Hey, I’m here to comfort you. I am not getting anywhere, am I? I think I have to leave now, so I can get home before midnight,” I said. I held his hand, and continued, “Try to let go, ok? And I will see you soon.”

He looked at me. For a long time, he didn’t speak.

“Yes, you should go home now. Maybe… maybe I will feel better later.”

I walked out his house quickly. As soon as I got into my car, tears rushed out. It would take two hours to drive home… I could cry for every second of those two hours.