Hope (Harry Styles)

19.

6 months later...

Here- Alessia Cara

Abby's POV

"Well, I think that completes our final session Abby, how do you feel?" My grief counselor, Joan, asks me. She's an older woman, probably in her fifties, with greying hair and kind brown eyes. I've been seeing her for the past six months, meeting once a week to talk about Hope and to help me get through the grieving process.  It has been such a huge help, talking about how I've been feeling, the guilt that has been eating away at me, which I guess is a pretty common symptom of grief. Joan has helped me through the guilt, and through the fear and the sadness.  I'm back to playing and singing regularly at the bar down the street from campus and writing songs again.  I'm smiling more, I'm laughing, I'm going about my days with an unclouded mind. I'm back to being completely myself again and I couldn't be happier. 

Today was the last day of our sessions and I wasn't sure how I felt about that.  I felt confident that I was better and past the grieving stages and past all the guilt I felt, but I was still nervous, afraid that if I didn't have Joan to lean on that I would fall back into feeling helpless again.  I didn't want all this work to be for nothing.

"I feel good, a little nervous. What if I fall back to how I was before? What if I'm not strong enough to do this on my own?" I ask, playing with my finger nervously. 

"Abby, you are strong enough to do this on you're own. Plus you aren't completely alone now are you? You have an incredible, supportive group of friends, who I'm sure are going to help you in any way they can. Let them, let them be your support.  And if that's not enough, then you can always come back and see me," she smiles at me, looking over the rim of her glasses. She was right, my friends have been there for me and has supported me throughout this whole thing, lending an ear to talk to during the nights I couldn't sleep, or the days that were harder than others. I don't know where I'd be without them.

"You're right, as usual," we both laugh. She stands up and I do the same, walking into her arms for a hug.

"Now don't hesitate to call if you need anything, or to come in just to say hi," she tells me, patting my back as she hugs me.

"I won't, and I'll make sure to stop in and say hi," I tell her, pulling back from the hug. 

I make my way down the freezing streets of Boston, the February air still holding onto the winter chill.  I tug my jacket tighter around me, praying for summer to get here. I hated winter.  I don't mind spring or fall because it wasn't bone shatteringly cold, but once it got below freezing and snow covered everything, I wanted to be some place warm. I think if I had gotten into skiing or any other winter activity I may enjoy it better, but I never did so it just made the season feel extremely long. 

I finally make it back to campus, making my way into the apartment I shared with Violet and Megan. What I loved about Boston University was that everything was close by. Our apartment building, plus many others, were situated so they practically looked like they belonged to BU, then you had shops and restaurants all within walking distance and classes were easy to get too. I was really sad that I was going to be graduating in just three short months. At least I'll probably be living here for awhile, so I'll still get to be close by campus.

It was Friday night and I'm sure Violet and Megan were planning on dragging the boys to some party they heard about. I haven't gone to a party since we got back home, thinking that it might not be a good idea to put myself in a situation that would bring up a lot of memories for me. Plus I wasn't really sure if that was my scene anymore, hanging out with a bunch of drunk college students, causing scenes and acting obnoxious. I was to focused on my school work and my internship for The Boston Herald, which was going extremely well and I was so happy to be working with a bunch of great people, doing something I love to do.