31. visiting hours

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'Happy heavenly birthday, Mum.

We miss you every day.'

I stared at the note card in my hand, before adjusting it onto the flowers we'd picked for the grave. I had decided to go with something simple. I didn't like the pressure of being the one to write it. Nothing I could say could even touch how big of a loss we were facing. Her absence was spread over everything.

"Claire is running late again," dad looked to me and Connor.

My auntie Claire was always late, and she always insisted on going to mums grave as a family. She did this on Mother's Day too. I hated having to go to the grave like it was some sort of event. Truth be told, I didn't like going in general. I didn't get any comfort from it. It made me angry knowing that headstone is where my mum lies now.

"Do you think she'll be much longer?"

"You know what she's like Ivy, could be waiting another hour here or could be ten minutes."

"Can't we just go on without them?"

"No! You know they like seeing you."

I knew they liked seeing me. But it was hard to see them. We used to be a close family but there were many disagreements after both mum and granny died. Claire wanted to try and keep the bond alive, but we couldn't. Mum was the glue that held our family together.

Every time we all went to the grave together, I felt left out. I didn't want to mingle. I wanted to stay home and cry. Everyone talked and shared stories about mum. And I hated that Claire knew things about her that I didn't. I know they were sisters. But she was my mum. The most important person to me in the world.

"Honestly, dad, I'm not really feeling great," I decided.

"In what way?"

"Just got a huge migraine there, think I might go and lie down. You guys go on without me."

"Suit yourself Ivy," he grumbled, obviously knowing I was making up an excuse.

"You okay kiddo?" Connor tried to empathise.

"I'll be alright, just going to rest up."

So, I did what I always did when I was feeling down. Made myself feel even worse. I took out the memory box I made for mum after she passed. Which sounds lovely, but I had filled it with things to remember her passing. Not her life. I took out the pile of sympathy cards and started reading, starting with my friends' first.

I had made my way through half of the stack when I heard a noise and turned to see Quinn at my door. "You okay?" he approached cautiously.

"You shouldn't be here, Quinn."

"I wanted to be."

I laughed at that. I had no idea what he wanted anymore. "Well, I don't want you here."

"My family were visiting the grave with yours, I stayed behind in case you didn't want me there. But then I saw you didn't leave with them. I wanted to check you were okay."

"I'm fine."

"It doesn't look like it."

I could imagine what it looked like: a mess. I was sat on my bed, surrounded by sympathy cards and tears streaming down my face.

"Can we just forget you're mad at me for one day? I swear you can go back to hating me again tomorrow. I just want to be here for you today," he continued helplessly.

Instead of replying, I moved over the slightest bit, giving him room to sit.

"How come you didn't go?"

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