[ WP ] A family plans a once-in-a lifetime summer vacation , paying for expensive tickets and reservations many months ahead . A few weeks before the trip , one of the family members unexpectedly dies . The family decides to go on with the trip anyway .

It was supposed to be a fun, happy and exciting trip to the United Kingdom, to Europe. It was all they would ever talk about, those fleeting months earlier, bouncing, happy and ecstatic. They claimed they would do all the tourist-y things, see Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey- trot over to France, go up the Eiffel Tower, see the Louvre, the Notre Dame Cathedral. Continue on, visiting each and every famous site- see Rome, see Pompei, eat Belgium chocolate, eat Germanic sausages, to name just a few things they would do. It was to be an extraordinary experience. A creative, wonderful experience that this family would only ever have once. 
 
 And then the *accident* happened, and the thoughts of a perfect once-in-a-lifetime trip cracked and shattered, right underneath their feet. It splintered and splattered, the somewhat whole shards mocking them and their perfectness. Perfect happiness was but a mere concept now, an ideal coasting like soot on the wind. How could they be happy when they were so incomplete? 
 
 The family used to be a family of four. It had a mother, a father, an older brother and a little sister. Now, however, the family has crumbled, has broken. It is a family of three, the rest of them with a gaping whole in each of their hearts. 
 
 The eldest child, the brother, looks up through the window of his secluded room in the hotel- he did n't pay much attention to the name, though not like it mattered anyway- and tries not to glance at the other bed in the room he had been to share with his little sister. He tries not to glance at it, but he does anyway. And it nearly kills him to do so. 
 
 He watches as his mother flits into the room, softly asking him if he wanted to join the tour group that was starting up- that they had paid for. He says nothing, makes no move to get up. The mother looks down at the bed as well, and nearly breaks down. She leaves the room, trying not to cry. The father hardly can bring himself to get up from the chair he had claimed, stiff and still and silent. 
 
 None of them leave for the tour. The mother's cell rings, the tour director calling- *Why did n't you show up? Is everything alright? Did you make it okay? Is there anything you need? * The mother ca n't bring herself to answer the phone, reply to the message. She and her husband sit, still and limp, broken and empty. After a few minutes of empty staring, the Mother puts her head in her hands and starts to cry, softly at first. Then it increases, huge rumbling cries that shake her body, that shake her soul. The father inches towards her, creaking and haltingly like a robot, before enveloping her with his warmth, his support. But he, too, is sorrowful, is aching and in pain. He cries along with her. They hug and they hold. They cry and they grieve. 
 
 How they had lost such a precious child was a question neither of them could understand or comprehend. Why had God forsaken them so? Why had He taken such a beautiful little girl away? 
 
 The brother's eyes are tightly shut, His little sister's innocent, smiling face fills his mind, his soul. He clenches his fist, he bangs it against the windowsill. A tear leaks out, then another. He can hear his parents sorrow, and it only fuels his own. A whimper, a sob. Why did she have to leave them? How could life be so cruel, taking the youngest from them- so early in life, when she had so much to live for. If only she was here... if she was with them, the brother could see her, see her smiling, laughing, and playing. She had wanted to come here most, she would have adored the hustle of the city. The bustle of the people. Her excitement and pleasure was the reason he had wanted to go. They all wanted to go to see how she would love the city, how she would jump and race around, the very embodiment of excitement and happiness. 
 
 But she was n't here. She was gone. And she took everything this family had with her. 
 
 The eldest child collapses in on himself, trying to keep his sorrow to himself. Thoughts flit through his mind, petty grievances he had with her, childish fights they always had. Was that it? Was it because he had been terrible to her that she was now gone? Was it his fault that she had left them, left them forever? If he could do it over again, he would be better, he would be good. *Just please, please I want her back* He sits in the corner, to himself, the walls providing some sense of comfort. At least when the rest of his life was tumbling down, far away from his reach, these walls were steady. They were strong. 
 
 He breaks down again, pleading, begging for her return. He ca n't keep looking at that empty bed, the bed devoid of life. The image of the closed, sealed room he'd go back to at home. That room had to be filled, that room could n't be empty. What would he do without her there? 
 
 `` I should have told her I loved her more!'' The mother wails, trying to keep her voice down for the benefit of her elder child. It would n't be good if he would hear her sorrows- he was no doubt just as broken, just as battered as she was- but it was *so hard. So very hard*. Her husbands voice soothes in her ear, but she can hear his strain. His pain and his heart. They both wish they could have told her how much they loved her, how much she meant to them. But she had been taken away in such a short time, ripped from them in a matter of minutes- how could they ever have known? How could they ever have predicted such a horror, such a sorrow? 
 
 Again, the wife cries, wailing into the father's strong chest- his very being. The father, as well, could not hold back the tears that were threatening to fall. He cried less, softer and quieter than she did. His sorrow was bottling up inside of him, welling and swirling in the pit of his soul. It darkened and rumbled, it cowered and crumbled. He had to be strong for the family that was broken, he had to find the shattered remains and somehow piece it together- but it would never be the same. Nothing would ever be the same. 
 
 *She was gone. * Those few simple words, so small and so fragile were but the fierce, killing blow to this new-found family of three. Each of them torn, each of them ragged and raw as those slim, tiny words clawed at their hearts. 
 
 The trip, however, was nothing but painful. The hotel, nothing but sorrow. The world became much darker, much gloomier. 
 
 Somehow the parents manage to gather themselves, pick themselves up and call up the agent. With halted and broken words, the mother- then the father- explains how they could n't stay any longer, how they just had to leave. With methodical movements and no talking at all, the family of three packs up to leave. They board the plane back, somewhat relieved to go. Yet, all that awaits them is more pain, more sorrow. Although it was too painful to stay for their vacation, it was also so painful to go back home- where the undeniable proof of their incompleteness waited for them. 
 
 The money they spent, all the time that they planned, was now wasted, hardly anything was coming back to them- but it was n't like they cared anyway. 
 
 A precious life had been wasted, and that was never going to come back.
