While it is supposed to be depressing, I believe death has been the most inspirational tale to this once 17 year old. I was 5 when life decided to show, what loss felt like. Yet in my childish beliefs and imaginations, I refused to believe I never will see my hero. To be honest, looking back I hold no real memories. I don't know if it was that psychological phenomenon in action where people learn to block and forget part of their memories subconsciously or it was simply me being ever so forgetful. It took me 8 years of failed prayers and that sight of mom's tears followed by her lines of wisdom. Slowly but steadily, I began my first tale of moving on. I had to teach myself not to respect her a bit more but to see beyond her scoldings and love her for being my mother. Years passed by, me and Mom went on to become friends but I stayed somewhat incapable and a little less competent when it came to my emotions. It would take me some more failed friendships and a coup...