Devoted To You || Gilbert Blythe

XI

~𝒜𝒹𝒶~
Pillar. A noun meaning a prominent supporter.
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I am a pillar of support for Gilbert. Though I truly don't understand Gilbert's emotions right now.

Although I've never experienced losing a father, the passing of my mother left me devastated. We had a unique connection—I was closest to her, just as Alexander was to his father. It was our dynamic. Coping with her loss was overwhelming, and at that moment, I made a decision. Instead of forging my own identity, I chose to emulate her.

Learning to cook, clean, and love my neighbor as I love myself became my routine. It became ingrained, and I continue to mirror her actions. Whether it's preparing a Sunday brunch, swiftly tidying up any mess in the house, or being there for a neighbor in need, I carry on her legacy.

Now, as I lie on Gilbert Blythe's couch, observing him rest, I've already taken care of breakfast and any potential mess. All that's left is waiting for him to wake up and tell me how to help.

As Gilbert rested on the couch, his features softened in the peaceful repose of slumber. The subdued light in the room accentuated the nuances of his face. I couldn't help but study the details, tracing the lines that etched stories of joy and pain.

His green eyes, adorned with a subtle tint of brown, held a captivating depth. Even in rest, they conveyed an intensity that spoke of resilience and vulnerability. The straight eyebrows above them framed a gaze that had witnessed both the beauty and harshness of life.

Curly dark brown hair fell across his forehead, a testament to his unruly charm. Each curl seemed to have a story of its own, a dance of chaos and order that mirrored the complexities of his character.

Red-rimmed eyes, remnants of the tears shed the previous day, added a layer of rawness to his countenance. The vulnerability in those eyes made my heart ache, and yet, there was a strength that radiated beneath the surface, ready to face the challenges life had thrown at him.

As he stirred, slowly awakening from the embrace of sleep, our eyes met. There was a moment of quiet understanding, a shared acknowledgment of the unspoken connection that had grown stronger in the wake of grief.

"Morning," he mumbled, his voice carrying the weight of the previous day.

"Morning," I replied gently, offering a small, comforting smile. "How are you feeling?"

He sighed, the heaviness in his eyes reflecting the emotional toll. "I don't even know where to begin."

We sat in that moment of shared vulnerability, allowing the weight of the impending day to hang in the air. Eventually, we started to discuss the day ahead, navigating the delicate balance between mourning and preparing to say a final farewell.

***

At the graveside, a solemn gathering had formed, each person adorned in muted colors that mirrored the somber atmosphere. The sky overhead, overcast and heavy, seemed to reflect the collective sorrow that enveloped us. The air was filled with a hushed silence, disrupted only by the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant murmur of mourners.

"Let not your heart be troubled. Ye believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father's house are many mansions. If it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you."

I close my eyes as the cold breeze hits my face. I take in a deep breath as the minister recites the verses. I feel a hand grab mine. I look down at Gilbert's clothed hand. I give it a gentle squeeze. I avoid the gaze of the younger girls. I know Ruby would be heartbroken if she were to see this. But this isn't about her. This is about Gilbert.

"And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; for where I am, there ye may be also."

Gilbert stood by the casket, a picture of stoic grief. His eyes, red-rimmed and pained, gazed at his father's resting place.

The ceremony concluded, and we lingered at the graveside, a silent communion of shared sorrow. Tears were shed, and the quiet reflection of loss hung in the air. Soon after friends and family took food up to the Blythe house. Where we will share stories of John and the impact he had on those around him.

The lowering of the casket into the earth marked the finality of the moment, the weight of reality settling in. As the first handfuls of soil cascaded onto the casket, the sound echoed with a profound finality, each clump sealing the departure of a loved one.

In that sacred moment by the graveside, the raw emotions of grief intertwined with the indomitable spirit of remembrance, weaving a tapestry of memories that would endure beyond the confines of the funeral.

Gilbert releases my hand we lock eyes and he gives me a look of gratitude. I give him the warmest smile I can muster up on the cold dreary day. He nods and goes to sit on a bench by the graveside.

I follow the others to the house, that is until I spot father and Alexander talking with Josie's uncle. He works for our local bank. I decide it's best that I separate myself.

Though I can never escape my family it seems.

"Ada!" I hear a soft voice call. I turn to find Diana running towards me.

"Diana," I greet her, a tired smile on my face.

"I saw you during the ceremony," she says, her eyes reflecting the shared sorrow of the day.

I nod, not trusting my voice to speak. The weight of the day settles in my chest.

"Ada, I wanted to talk to you about something," Diana begins tentatively.I offer her a small nod, inviting her to continue. "Tomorrow, after everything settles down a bit, Ruby thought that Gilbert will need some support. I was wondering if you could help us prepare a meal for him. You know, something comforting."

The request catches me off guard, but I understand the sentiment behind it. "Of course, Diana. I'd be glad to help in any way I can."

She smiles gratefully, and then, lowering her voice, she adds, "Ada, you've been a pillar of strength for Gilbert. I've noticed how he looks to you for comfort. I think he appreciates your presence more than you realize." I blush at the implication, but before I can respond, Diana continues, "I couldn't help but think that perhaps there's something more between you two. A connection that goes beyond friendship."

Her words hang in the air, and I feel a mix of emotions. Gilbert and I share a unique bond, forged in the crucible of grief, but the idea of it evolving into something more feels both daunting and comforting.

"Diana," I begin, choosing my words carefully, "Gilbert and I have a special connection, but right now, it's about being there for each other as friends. I don't want to complicate things, especially with everything he's going through."

Diana studies my face, her expression thoughtful. "Just don't underestimate the power of love, Ada. Sometimes, it finds its way into our lives when we least expect it."

I offer her a grateful smile, appreciating her concern. "Thank you, Diana. And, well, considering everything, it might be best not to let Ruby in on any hints of a possible romance. It could hurt her."

Diana nods in understanding, her gaze softening. "You're right. I will be discreet, then. Let's focus on being there for Gilbert and each other."

I nod. "Thank you, Diana."

We part ways and I head for my Mother's willow tree.