Searching for the Silver Lining by Manya Ulanski (manga ereader TXT) 📖

a way that for a moment I knew that I had gained back my strong level headed aunt. I gave a week smile at her and then say my parents walk out of the kitchen with red puffy eyes and my mother pulled down her black vial at the same time Aunt Filipa did. I sighed and sent a silent prayer to God for my family, and that Mira is finally at peace despite the domestic turmoil here in this home. I then went into the kitchen to grab the sunflowers and candle on the counter and passed them to Babcia. She looked at me in confusion when she say me turn back down the hallway. 

"Child, where are you going?" She asked me in somewhat of a hushed hiss. 

"I forgot something important. Mira will get upset if I forget it. I then turned into my bedroom and grabbed the porcelain jar that bore a painted Polska flag and a white eagle flag that had belonged to my Pradziadek Bakowski. My emotions were still raw and the jag felt like a boulder in my bag. Yet I held my head high because I knew someone had to. 

I walked out to the car with the flowers in hand and my eyes glazed over. I was thankful though. It was customary back home for the neighbors to pay a coach for the Deceased’s family to arrive in. We were fortuning that our Neighbors discovered this custom and kindly paid for it. It was comforting to know that in this small town, at least our culture was accepted. 

I turned back and looked at the klepsydra notice on our door and snorted at the irony at the phrase  Prosimy o nieskładanie kondolencji, because that was what we needed- condolences and support. 

 

 

The funeral service was horrible. Not many people showed up. Only us, our neighbors, and five girls from the same high school as Mira and I. We sung hymns to send off Mira on a pleasant thought. Then I was called to the front of the alter to represent my family as I lit the first candle and laid the first bouquet of flowers on her casket. As I did so, I brushed my fingers over the polished wood and whisper to Mira that I will miss her. My hand lingered there for a moment but I had to force my hand away before I began to weep profusely again. I then fisted my hand at the side and turned and smiled at the crowd as they clapped for me. 

Others then came up and laid down their own bouquet of flowers on her. Mostly roses and daisies- she hated daisies. Then again, my family was the only one who truly knew her. I shifted in my seat as Mira's Priest , Father Jonathan, spoke about god and welcoming the afterlife, the then rambled on about how this was all part of God's plan for Mira to leave this life young, and how it happened for a reason. I inwardly scoffed. Mira died because of the unfairness and recklessness of others. There was no philosophical meaning to her death; there was only the harsh reality that I had lost my best friend and cosine. No amount of words or anti- depressants could take that sting away. I would carry with me forever a wound. 

I remember shifting in my seat, because I had been seated next to my mother- who I had not seen in six years. I gripped Leo’s hand tightly. He was only twelve and he had lost his only sister when he needed her most. 

Those girls from school came up to say a Farwell to Mira. They let out dry forced sobs, and told false stories about her. One girl came up to the stage and talked about how Mira was her only friend at school, and had brought her to know God. I wanted to vomit. Everyone in the room believed their heartfelt forced lies about Mira except for me. Suddenly I heard my aunt Filipa call me up to the podium after she had talked about her daughter. I was prouder of her, that she was able to fight through the pain long enough to give Mira kind true words of love she deserved. 

I rose up, took a shaking step to the podium, and looked out at the small crowd before me. "Um... Hello, I am Livia Pach. I am Mira's cousin and she is my best friend. Mira was... she was perfection to me. She was that kind smiling girl that always loved everyone, and this was not fair. I think we can all agree that when an adolescence dies- losses their life, it is almost wrong. Mira was my best friend because we had been threw everything together. She had been there for me since before I was born. She moved here with me, went to school with me- and was just always there to make me smile. When I think about her I she her laughing and smiling broadly. Yet somehow she left use much too early. She was ripped from use on an unfair whim, and I will always have to carry that. " 

"No matter though... because I won't let her death ruins her. She has bright, creative smart, and she would have gone far. You know... Its odd Back home we have many traditions when it comes to a lost loved one. We tie our hair back, wear black, open all the windows, wear things like mourning broaches, and ribbons. Somehow, I cannot stop thinking what if she was here. Would she like this? Would this make her happy? Would she prefer daisies or sunflowers? Yet despite all these thoughts, I cannot stop thinking what I should have done.However, we should not dwell on that. We should focus on her memory, and what she did do in her 17 years. That is what is important. What is important is the sweet cherished girl that never got her chance to live life the way she dreamed of. So to that I say good bye to my dearest friend, Mira Louisa Bakowski.” As I set down the microphone I looked over to my family who smiled at me broadly with tears in their eyes, and I looked over at the five girls from school that three of them were leaving with their heads hanging. I let my hand linger on the aluminum lining of the coffin as I say Mira for the last time. 

Mira was lifted up with all her flowers and memories onto the shoulders of four young men who carried her to her final resting place. I picked up her candle and walked three passes behind the priest in the place of the head of the household. 

The cemetery was damp from the morning dew, and the wilted flowers on neglected graves haunted the air. As we approached Mira's final resting place I saw the granite headstone that read her name, birthdate, and death. Then I smiled at the white eagle and the cross that had been carved into her tombstone. It represented her. Where she was from and what she stood for. They lowered her down into her grave and Leo griped my hand tightly as he tossed in sunflower seeds. I pulled him close to my side a leaned down to kiss his head. 

"She loves you so much." I told him I passed him the lit candle and let him place it onto of the head stone while Father Jonathan bid the Lord to take his child into his kingdom and watch over her. Then after the Aunt Filipa, Uncle Bazyli, Father, Mother, and Babcia had thrown a hand full of dirt into her grave. Then Babcia let out a wail and flared her arms around shouting in incoherent Romanian as well as Polish. Uncle Bazyli gripped her shoulders and told her to calm herself. She began to hyperventilate and she stammered out. "Poznan. Poznan. We need to return her." To this, Aunt Filipa paled and looked franticly at the priest. I jammed my hand into my bag remembering the important thing. I then handed the jar to Father Jonathan. At this, my family stilled. 

"Is this a custom of you home?" He asked me. I nodded my head and told him. 

"We need to return her to Poland." He gave a grunt in agreement and uncapped the cork for the jar and spread it over her coffin. Father Jonathan sighed and handed the porcelain jar back to me. To which I handed to Leo. Leo let out a sob and grasped the jar tightly. He had been holding in his grief at the loss of his sister who he had constantly pestered day in and day out- know I saw a little boy scared to go to school. His face was red and he buried his face in my cardigan as he cried out loudly for his sister. Leo was only 12 he was terrified of the other boys at school, and was self-conscious of his accent. He should have been concerned about where he would go to high school - not regretting not spending time with Mira enough. I realized then that Leopold was the one who was taking this whole tragedy the hardest. I brought him close and kneeled down to his level to allow him to sob into my neck. 

I watched with teary eyes as my younger cousin wailed steams of tears and the rest of my family fell to pieces. We regretted coming here to Connecticut. You could see it in the eyes of a tattered grief stricken family. She would still be here if we had stayed in our small village outside of Poznan. Leopold would still have his sister who he secretly adored, I would have my friend, and they would have had their daughter. Watching as the soil filled in on top of her, I could not see reason in coming here. It was pointless, and I felt myself becoming more and more resentful towards everything. 

However, I realized something. The casket was never opened. Nor did we have our three days of prayer. Then I realized why. You cannot have an open casket if the body is unpreventable. 

Chapter 3: Blank Pages

I sat in my seat in the exact middle of the room. Strangle enough was where I noticed I would stick out less. MY professor came in and she smiled at use and started the class. One by one we are suppose to stand up and say how we feel. The guy nest to me stood up and said my "name is Tom Carter and I'm pumped!" The class let out a frenzy of laughs and and cheers. I slowly stood up and brushed my pink hair out of my face and said,

"My name is Livia Pach-" I stopped talking when I heard some cackles and snickers come from the corner of the room.  I tightened my jaw and closed my eyes trying to calm down. Every day a group of girls would go into a fit of giggles and roll their eyes every time I talked. It was immature and I thought I left behind vain catty girls when I left high school. Apparently not. I turned to look at those four girls in the corner of the room and could here them talk about me. How my hair looked like I rolled out of bed, how I looked like I shopped at salvation army, and how I sounded like a man. I took a deep breath and locked eyes with one of the girls and looked directly at her.

"My name is Livia Pach and I feel highly exasperated." with that I sat down and started reading on my kindle.  My teacher was in shock because all I say usually is "I feel fine." or I come to class late to avoid the introduction.

Mrs. Gunther stood up and pointed to the board.

"Hobbies!" She shouted in a happy tone.

"Everyone has one. A hobby as an activity that you love to do to pass the spare time. this one of the best social skills you will develop. Whether it is one a first date, or making small chat. Finding out someones interests is key to building relationships and getting them to relate to you.  This is going to be our topic for the day. I am currently passing out the work sheets. I need you guys to partner up with one other person and fill