❝In which two people call up a helpline in order to find someone just as broken as they are. ❞
"Does...does it bother you that my dad's in prison for murder?"
"Well, judging by the fact that I moved away from America to get away from the memory of a...
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"Do you believe in God?" Isabella asked quietly, hands stuffed in her jean pockets as she lowered her voice to suit the surroundings. There was something eerily silent about the graveyard and it seemed wrong to interrupt it with a loud proclamation. The dead, after all, were sleeping for a reason and they deserved the peace of quiet. It was a form of respect, a silent recognition of the beautiful day that these people had lived. And of the silent salute from one human to another, a sort of reverence for them. For living. For pulling through right until the very end. Until they were too tired to go any further.
Both Elliot and Vaughn stood beside her, staring down at Grace Davis's grave with the sort of look that told Isabella that their thoughts were elsewhere. But they answered her question with a silent shake of their heads and Elliot, who had previously stopped crying, rubbed his sleeve over his eyes to prevent any oncoming tears.
Isabella sighed, trying to conjure up a tall, blonde, female Elliot in her mind as she stared down at the grave below her. "Me neither."
She hadn't known Grace, but she felt as if her knowledge of her was established by the boys' sadness. She knew grief well enough to know all that a simple expression could tell her. For, when a loved one died, people tended to remove that person from their lives completely. So that they wouldn't have to remember the pain. That included removing that person from themselves.
And neither Vaughn or Elliot were smiling properly.
"But sometimes I like to pray." Her statement was met with nothing but the quiet hush of leaves as the trees were pushed to their breaking point. "Even though I'm not religious and God seems as unlikely as a world without pain. I...I pray. And it's not like I'm expecting some miracle to happen or anything. Or that I believe in heaven. I...it's a way to speak my thoughts out loud and...and sometimes it's nice to think of a beautiful afterlife that would...that would make living worth it. Somehow. I...it helps me to think like that because then I can believe my dad is still alive...up there. Living the good life as he watches over me. " Isabella smiled sadly at the end of her sentiment, not really talking to the two boys anymore as slow tears made their way down her face.
They made their home on the grass.
And there was a silence.
Three people standing at a grave trying to think of anything other than what was buried in the grave.
Until Vaughn spoke.
Voice quiet and a little wistful as he tilted his face up towards the sky.
"Dear God,
Cleo was not just my cousin. She was my friend. A friend who helped me through one of the darkest patches of my life. Without her, I probably wouldn't be standing here giving you this half-assed prayer that you probably aren't listening to. Because you're the big dude up in the sky and you have better things to think about than some mourning old guy who probably shouldn't even be mourning anymore.
But I ask you to look after Cleo, wherever she is, because she was a brilliant, brilliant human being who wasn't on the earth for nearly as long she should have been. And I ask you to watch over her, because...she was always watching over everyone else and she...she never really looked out for herself. If she doesn't deserve to get into heaven, no one does. But if she really is up there with you then, man, Lord, you are one hell of a lucky guy."
There was a small amount of quiet before Elliot's shaky tone joined the symphony of silence.
"Dear God,
Sometimes...sometimes the world is really messed up and...and things don't always go to plan and...and bad things happen to good people and I...if you do exist and you do have some control over what goes on down here then...then I just want you to know that I'll never forgive you. For...for taking away my sister like that. Because she didn't deserve that. She...she deserved to die peacefully of old age with a family who weren't terrified out of their minds for their own lives. And maybe it's not fair to blame you. But since the guy who shot her is dead, I don't really have anyone else to rant to so...screw you mate. Basically. Screw you for taking away one of the few people who actually understood me. And, wherever she is now, you better be taking care of her. That's the only way you can make up for what you've done."
Isabella glanced at the two boys, seeing how they both had their heads turned towards the ground in almost shame. Almost as if the feelings they spoke aloud would be better kept to themselves. And she felt the need to let them know that it was okay to cry sometimes. Although it was a lesson that she was still learning herself.
So she took both their hands and held them in hers.
"Dear God,
Wherever my dad is, just, make sure he's happy. Happier than he ever was down here. Because he deserves that. And I ask you to take mercy on all the dead souls because, criminal or not, everyone deserves a second shot. The shooter behind a gun. The man behind a murder. There's always a motive. Always a method to the monster. So I ask you to think twice before condemning because death is created from death and grief. Grief makes us do, crazy, stupid things. So forgive us. When we mess up. Because, if the world is anything to go by, you mess up too sometimes.
And...watch over us...Oh Lord, as we move on with each other and help us to stay united and help us to know that we are never alone in whatever we're feeling. Just...just help us to know that there...there's always willing to listen, no matter how alone we feel we are."
