dead

He was swimming in the pool.  His brother was snowboarding down some mountain and he wanted to be there more than anything else.  But the pool would help his knee and if he snowboarded too much his knee would let out and hurt like mad.  His mom walked into the pool room.  She was shaking and crying and he didn't know what was wrong.  He stood up where the water was shallow and asked her what was wrong.  She was a strong lady, she had been through a lot in her life, she did not cry easily.  She spoke through the tears and suddenly he felt like he was drowning.  Not from the water in the pool but the news that flooded his head.  He felt like he was drawing water with every breath, air would be able to clear his head, he would be able to understand the news if he could breath.  He felt a tear burn a track down his face.  He saw it drop into the water and disappear, the little warm salty drop lost in the chlorinated pool of tears.  He had nothing to say, no where to go and no one to take comfort in. His mom was there but she was mourning too. She could not bring him comfort.  His grandfather was dead.  
It was cold at his cottage.  The mountain air was crisp and the ground was covered in a layer of powdered snow.  He walked out of the pool room, out of the house and out of the warmth.  No shoes, no shirt, soaked.  He didn't care.  He didn't feel the snow on his toes and he could barely feel the wind on his chest.  He didn't care that the water in his hair and on his shorts were freezing.  He didn't care that he was shivering or that his feet were getting cut up.  His Opa was dead.   
On the side of the road a mile down was an untouched perfect piece of snow covered grass.  He lay down on his back with his arms out as if getting ready to make a snow angel.  He didn't think about much.  He couldn't cry then, the only tear he shed was the one lost in the pool.  They would have frozen on his face if he cried there anyways.  Flakes fell softly and slowly in a pattern that he didn't understand.  He lay there until the sun was dim on the horizon.  The snow had stopped and he couldn't figure out the pattern.  He considered making an angel but the thought was dismissed.  He got up and felt the wind.  He was cold now.  He headed back the way he came, back to the house with the pool where the only tear was lost.  
He walked into the house, the warmth spread over him, his muscles relaxed.  The door shut behind him and his brother and father returned from snowboarding and skiing.  They were with his mother.  She was crying.  His father had an arm around her and his brother had hands covering his face.  His mother got up, walked over to him, the shivering mess.  She said something about going to look for him soon.  She tried to hug him.  He pushed her away.  Without a word, his brother threw a sweater at him.  Without a word, he put it on.  His father was angry at him, for wandering off in the cold leaving his mother alone.  
They all packed their bags, he drove home with his brother.  His mother and father in the car ahead.  Neither he nor his brother attempted conversation.  He turned on the radio.  His brother turned it off.  They drove the trip in the silence of mourning.  His brother could cry.  He couldn't. 
He stood in line and drank a lot of coffee, he got a lot of hugs from a lot of people he didn't know.  He stood beside the coffin and wanted to cry every time he saw the still man lying there.  But he couldn't. 
He sat in a church pew, surrounded by his family.  His Oma cried, his mother cried, his sister-in-law cried.  They were outside, surrounding a deep hole in the earth, everyone was standing close together to keep the wind out.  People cried.  He didn't.   
He returned to school midway through the week so that he wouldn't fall behind before exams.  He wished the world could stop when people died.  He wished he could still cry.
May He Rest In Peace.