[ WP ] Everyone dies on their birthday , but no one knows at which age it will occur .

I stare in brooding solitude at the clock as the second hand ticks by with immeasurable slowness. Is the clock going backwards? As the red hand ticks by and by with the ever resounding clicking i've become so used to. The birthday is coming up. The party has already been had. Cake, popped balloons, muddy footprints and various other signs of a children's birthday party have been strewn about my house in a immeasurable hurricane of mess and irregularity. I manage to peel myself up from the kitchen chair thats sat in my living room for the past few hours. I brush the glitter and crumbs of spongey chocolate cake off my pants and slowly begin to plod to the living room. 
 
 `` Hi mom.'' I say as i see her sitting on the couch. Her face is grace, but youthful. She has that little twinkle in her eyes that only the wise seem to have. I take a look around the room and smile to myself. How they managed to get handprints on the ceiling i will never imagine, but its a nice reminder of the innocent shenanigans of the young. `` Sit down.'' My mother says in a firm but kind voice as i move closer and closer to the couch. The time is now 12:45. I'm only 45 minutes into this trial. `` I remember when you were younger. This worry and pain, it will pass. You become grateful for every year you spend. Even though Shawn is no longer here, i know he would be proud with how well you're faring.'' My eyes well up slightly at the thought of Shawn, but i know i need to keep it together for him. He was my love, my life. When he passed, i did n't know how i could live on. He was only 25, I myself being 24. And now, seven years later, the mention of his death still smashed into my soul like a pot of scalding water. Searing and seeping into the deepest cracks and holes of my inner being. 
 
 My mom placed her hands on mine with a loving, gentle touch. `` McKenna, do n't worry. Everything will be fine. It's just one day and he's only 7. Let him sleep.'' I push my long, black curly hair out of my face and look back at her. She's getting old. I know this, but she's led a long and full life. I could n't be more grateful for everything my mother has done for me. 
 
 I get up from the sofa and tell her to sleep and leave the mess for the morning. She gets up and begins to pack her backs, but i know better. She will wait till i'm asleep, slip in with the key i gave her and clean till her hands are raw. There is nothing i can do about it, but today? I appreciate it. I walk up the stairs slowly taking breaths every few steps. It's all i can do to keep myself from tears. I wonder what death is like, does it hurt? Is there an afterlife? 
 
 I reach the top of the flight and look to my left and the yellowish doorknob set slightly too low for my taste in the dirty, once white door. The construction paper signs hang all over the front reading various birthday notes to Mathew. `` Hapie Eights Day!'' One reads. It's from Jessica, the little girl form across the street who has had a massive crush on my son since the beginning of the year. I snap the lock button on my phone revealing the time and date. August 20th, 1:01 AM. His 8th birthday. 
 
 I remember arguing with Shawn over the name. I so desperately wanted to name him Joe, after my father. But he wanted it to be Mathew. He could n't stand the name Joseph for some reason. As i opened the door, i drew back my hand. Half from fear of what i would see, and half from the sticky substance covering the door handle from the party earlier. 
 
 Since when did we as a society decide to have these `` Death Parties''. One day of fun before you die and are launched into the immeasurable unknown void that is lifelessness? He's only 8. He still has so much time. It normally does n't happen till later in life anyways. `` Shawn's did n't''. My subconscious whispers to me. I shut it up by grinding my teeth together and pushing my hair behind my ear one more time. I steel my will and rush in. 
 
 The door clangs against a hard, unknown toy thrown half hazardly in front of the door. My bare feet press against the cold hardwood floor of Mathew's bedroom. A chill runs up through my legs and all the way up my spine as i see the form of Mathew, huddled under the blankets. I hold my breath for a few tense seconds, praying to God that he was still with me. he was all i had left. My one and only. Then he rolled over. 
 
 His blonde hair, even brighter than Shawn's, poked above his car blanket. His tan skin was visible even through the dark of his room, the only light being the moon shining through a cool Alaskan night into his room. I back out gently and rush to my room, not wanting to spend another moment wondering. Wondering if he would make it. 
 
 If only it was my birthday. Why did it have to be his? When it's your birthday, you party and spend it with those who love. Nothing terrible awaits you. A continued existence without those you love. But i rush under the covers, the bed feeling so empty without Shawn. I can hear my mother rustling around downstairs cleaning. And i put on music. A piano sonata written by a high school friend, since past. It helped me sleep after Shawn, maybe it will now. I toss and turn for hours. By hair getting in my face and up my nose, making me sneeze as me feet stick out from under the blankets at odd places. But i make it. Just a few hours. I drift off to sleep. 
 
 9:46 PM 
 
 I collapse on the couch next to Matt, thanking God for this day, That we made it. Im so tired form running around with him all day and his gentle heartbeat against my bare calf feels so comforting. I fall into a restf ull sleep with my hand gently stroking his blonde hair. 
 
 Then i wake up. I know it's all fine because the clock reads after 12. We've made it. I pick up Mathew to take him to bed. But i fell asleep. There were 5 or so forgotten hours. I touch Mathew's skin. 
 
 Mathew is cold as ice and in his hand, he clenches a note. 
 
 `` I love you mommy''. 
 
 It drifts out of his lifeless hands onto the cold floor. 
 
 
 
 

