Family until the end.
lim·it·less
/ˈlimitləs/
Adjective: limitless
Without end, limit, or boundary.
Life was finally peaceful with few interruptions.
Husband and wife finally living out their happily ever after with their son and new friends and na...
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Mary sat quietly in the back of the room as Steve led his counseling group. Every time Steve had one, she would be dragged from her room to go with him. She was struggling to cope more and more with each passing day, week, month. She was beginning to look like she had when Winnie passed. And it scared everyone to their very core.
So Evelyn and Steve thought if maybe, just maybe, that Mary joined her brother in his discussion group that she would begin to cope better, open up more. Jamie encouraged her to go with his Uncle Steve. He wanted his mom to get better, not just for him, but for everyone else and herself. Jamie may be eight but he was mature for his age, they always said that his gift of memory spurred that in him. He was still a kid, but he knew the problems the world and his family faced. They couldn't hide anything from him, and eventually they stopped trying to.
The widow watched as the people all gathered in a circle talking about how they're coping with everything that's happened to them. It only made her feel worse.
"So I, uh, went on a date the other day. It's the first time in five years. You know? I'm sitting there at dinner." The man in the group says, then sighs and shrugs, turning to Steve, "I didn't even know what to talk about."
Steve forces a small smile as he looks over at the man, his blue eyes glancing to where his sister sits behind them on the stage of the auditorium. They all knew who she was, why she was there with them but never interacted. Steve had told them some of Mary's struggles before he brought her for the first time. They all knew everyone copes differently, or not at all in some cases.
"So, what did you talk about?" Steve asks.
The man shakes his head, "Eh, same old crap. You know, how things have changed. My job, his job. How much we miss the Mets. And then things got quiet... then he cried as they were serving the salads." The man answers Steve solemnly.
Another man looks up, "What about you?" He asks.
"I cried just before dessert." He answers, then looks around at the group, "But i'm seeing him again tomorrow, so..." he trails off and Steve nods approvingly.
"That's great. You did the hardest part. You took the jump. You didn't know where you were gonna come down." Steve says to affirm everyone in the room, then looks at the group and his sister. "And that's it. That's those little brave baby steps we gotta take to try and become whole again, try and find purpose." He says and then looks up at his sister, "I went in the ice in '45, right after I found out I was going to be an uncle. Woke up seventy years later. Lizzie was by my side through it all thankfully, but she'd been alone for seventy years on and off, going through the motions of living. You gotta move on." He tells the group with a soft smile and then looks down at his feet, "Gotta move on." He finishes, then contemplates what he'll say next to his group and sister. He looks up slowly, "The world is in our hands. It's left to us, guys. And we gotta do something with it. Otherwise... Thanos should've killed all of us." Steve finishes his closing statement.
