Lift // Hamliza

• chapter 19 •

a/n so this is the funeral chapter. After this I think I'm gonna change the story up a little because i feel like it's dragging.. hopefully there'll be a lil less angst soon. Anyways, carry on and enjoy! (actually y'all probably won't enjoy this chapter. It's really depressing and i almost cried writing broken Eliza.)

• Eliza •

Today was the day.

The morning went fast: I didn't really eat breakfast because of nerves, I put on my long sleeved black dress and heels and put on a little makeup. I helped Alexander tie his tie since he couldn't do it.

And here we are. At the funeral home, about to have my mother's funeral.

Originally I was going to speak but we decided it'd be best that I didn't. So at the moment, I sat in the front row of chairs next to Alex, holding his hand so tightly it could break. But he told me he didn't mind.

Part of the reason I was holding his hand so hard was because it was keeping me from crying. It also took the edge off my urge to cut, so that was helpful. Plus, I wanted to be sure that someone would be there for me to fall back on during the funeral.

The music began to play and my mothers casket was brought in. It was a beautiful, dark wood casket with silver on it. Since she passed over a week ago, it was decided that she'd have a closed casket ceremony. It hurt to know I'd never see her face again, but part of me knew I'd shatter if I did.

My father spoke first, crying as he told everyone the story of how they met and fell in love. I had to admit, as soon as he choked out his first word of the story, I was in tears.

I thought a lot about other things than my mother during the funeral. Not to be rude or ruin her memory, but to keep me from wailing. I was already sobbing silently, weeping into a grey handkerchief my father had given me this morning.

I thought a lot of Alexander during the funeral. I thought of how he had not once met my mother, but genuinely cried during the ceremony too. I'd told him a lot of stories about her, and he said she reminded him of his own mother. That's probably a reason he was crying too. I always hated to see Alex cry. That first time I did see it in the car made me feel awful. It was like someone punched me in the stomach, over and over again. And it's still like that, whenever he gets anxious or really upset.

The ceremony and burial went by quickly, but maybe that's how I made it out to be in my mind so I could get it over with sooner. Now we were traveling London and leaving roses.

One at the bookstore. One at the café. On at the little Italian restaurant. At the park. The fountain. The museum we went to yesterday, because she loved dance and I knew she would've liked to go visit there.

I just want her back. I wish I could've said goodbye. I didn't even text her a good morning text or anything on the day she died.

That night, in Alex and I️'s hotel room, I went back into the state he found me in. Crying and upset and not wanting to talk or eat or anything but sleep. I was always open to talk to Alex, but I didn't want to right now. He helped me put on my pajamas and take off my makeup without asking me any questions except if I needed anything, to which I shook my head.

I fell asleep at 7:30 pm, without eating dinner or anything. Later I woke up when Alex got into bed around 10, but didn't go into his arms like usual.

The next day I didn't want to get out of bed. We were supposed to go to the Thames River, but I told Alex I didn't want to and the two of us stayed at the hotel, all day. I didn't get out of bed except for one time, to go to the bathroom and brush my teeth. I stared at the wall, clutching one of my moms old blankets that we brought from home, because it still smelled like her

I probably ruined Alexanders trip but I couldn't bring myself to do anything. I was just too shattered.