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"Grief is the price we pay for love"
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I slam the car door shut and step onto the damp, frozen grass. My feet take me where I need to be, while my mind just tries its hardest to stay clear.
I look down at the white flowers in my hand.
Her favourite.
They were her favourite.
I hate this place, and yet it brings me so much comfort I find myself here almost weekly.
It rained last night, which means there's no one else around. I'm grateful for that, though. I like coming out here when it can just be me and her alone.
The weather is still bleak. The sky is grey and threatening to rain, and It's so cold I can see my breath escape my lips.
I make my way across the lawn, following my usual path, and stop at my destination. I kneel down, not caring that my pants are now damp from the floor.
The slab of stone is a dark shade of grey from the rain and covered in a small layer of almost completely melted snow. I replace the old bouquet of flowers I left here the last time I visited with the new ones I brought today.
A weak smile plays on my lips as I think about how happy they would make her. If only she could be here to appreciate them herself.
God, I miss her.
I wipe off the snow from the gravestone so I can clearly read the inscription, a sight I'm too familiar with. Not that that fact stops me from reading it every time I come.
Mabel Blake.
Loving mother, wife, and friend.
March 5, 1982 — November 19, 2018.
I adjust the position of the white lilies, making sure they lay nicely on the grass.
"Hi, mom." I greet her out loud, as if she can hear me.
I always have, since the very first time I visited her grave. I come here just to talk to her. To update her on my life when it's been a while, to vent when I'm upset, or to talk things out when I'm struggling.
"I miss you, so fucking much." I wince. "Sorry for swearing, I'll stop that now."
I imagine her just laughing at me. She was never one to get mad at me for swearing, I think she just found it funny; how red my cheeks would get when I realized I let a word slip in front of her.
"I don't know what to do, mom. It's Laney. I messed up, bad, and now she's suffering at the hands of my mistakes. I can't lose her. I can't do it."
I place my hand on the stone, to steady myself and to feel closer to her.
"I wish you were here, I wish you could tell me what to do, because I'm going crazy. I love her more than I've ever loved anyone before, more than I thought I could love someone. And now she's lying in a hospital bed unconscious."
It could be worse, I remind myself. I should be grateful she's still alive, I know how easy it is to lose someone in an accident. She's stable now, and revered from the events of yesterday.
"I need your help. I don't know how it works... wherever you are, but I need you to do whatever you can. Help her, heal her, wake her up, bring her home."
I sit there in silence for a while, breathing in the fresh air, and trying to look for a sense of comfort my mother always gave me.
I was always a momma's boy growing up. Of course, I loved my dad and we had our own bond, specifically with hockey, but the two of us didn't connect the same way I did with her. She was my rock. She was my safe place.
Everything about my childhood with two parents was different. Not only did I have my mom, but I had my dad, too. When he wasn't a single father, he had so much more time for our family. He had my mom's help raising us and her half of income meaning he didn't have to work as much.
He showed up for us. Both of them did. They were always in the stands during my games or at my school to watch me get some meaningless award.
It breaks my heart to think Charlotte never got that. She was just over a year old when mom passed away. She barely remembers anything about her. Whereas I was 15 when it happened.
I can't help but feel guilty about it. The fact that I got the childhood Charlotte deserves. Instead, she got a practically absent dad, and a mom she has no recollection of.
"I know I've told you this before, but I know you would've loved Laney. I really think you would've. She's the sweetest, funniest, most caring person I know. And you would adore seeing the way she is with Charlotte. Although, I'm sure you know that already."
I'm not sure what I believe in, honestly, I switch back and forth on my beliefs and thoughts surrounding the afterlife, but I like to tell myself she's watching me somehow. Looking after me.
"I just need your help with this one thing, mom. Send her back to me, and watch over her instead."
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Super short chapter again, sorry about that.
I can't believe that this book is almost finished. I have 1 more chapter left before I start working on the ending.
It's hard to believe I've been writing this for 7 months now.
Question of the chapter: When did you start reading this book?
