MARIGOLD |H.S. AU|

CHAPTER THIRTY

The part of me that hoped she was okay, was the part of me that hoped she could see what I was doing, that she was watching me, smiling, tears in her eyes of complete pride and awe. It was never like she was forcing me into her profession, like a pushy Mum with a desire to have things in common with her daughter, it was genuine. We loved what we do, and it made it even better that it was the same. 

She always used to say how lucky she was that she got to share a passion with me, that our relationship became so effortless because of it. We just wholeheartedly understood each other.

She always encouraged, never pushed, always supported, never forced.

But the grief she left me with, has swallowed me whole, drowning out anything positive, anything I love, now only reminding me of her.

And this grief, will never end, but it will change. Just not in a way that I want it to. 

Grief is a passage, not a place to stay.

Grief is not a sign of weakness nor a lack of faith; it is the price of love.

I know that this feeling is because I loved her too damn much, that everything she left me with was all that I knew. 

What I've learnt is that there are days where the melancholy of grief settles on you like a sudden change in weather. The kind of sadness that is intangible. Like the presence of an ache where you can't pinpoint exactly where it hurts, you just know it does.

As difficult as it is to tell myself, a spring is coming, I have to. I force myself to acknowledge that the world will carry on turning, the sun will continue to shine, without me, and people will move on, leaving me behind. Easily. It is my choice whether I fight for the motivation to breathe, to have a second without crying, without my chest feeling like something is pushing down on it.

The feeling of loss scares me. It's intimidatingly empty. An expressive void that somehow has a control over you that doesn't make sense. There's nothing there, but it forces you to fall infinitely despite nobody pushing you.

~~~~~ 

Ever since I heard my Dad speak those dreaded words to me, everything has blurred. I felt different strengths of arms wrap around me and managed to recognise some of them, Harry's, maybe Lou's, Meredith's, Zayn's, even Niall's.

It's like my senses have been turned down, everything muted and vibrations replacing the usual bright clarity of conversation. It isn't until I wake up on the sofa in a place I don't remember, do I start to bring myself back to reality, the feeling of floating through long periods of time seeming like nothing more than a distant nightmare.

I don't remember anything since that phone call, but feel a cold brush of uneasiness when I think about what it felt like to live through. Detached and fuzzy, everything is moving around you but you're just sat watching. 

My muscles feel tight, and my head feels heavy. My hair is up in a loose bun, a few curls falling out, and my clothes are too big. There isn't a blanket on me, or a pillow at my neck, just the velvet material of this small plush couch below me, and the eerie silence with the slight blur from the air-con, the lack of noise makes me uncomfortable.

I turn my body to sit up straight, letting my feet hit the floor. There is a half drunken bottle of water next to my feet, which I pick up, unscrewing the cap, bringing to my lips. I let the cold liquid smooth down my throat, feeling thick as it soothes the walls of my mouth.

My whole body, feels empty, drained. There's nothing but complete grey, the only accurate word to describe how my body is feeling right now. I don't feel anything in my chest, not even the thumping rhythm of my heart, it's just bare. It's a feeling of uncertainty, but it doesn't scare me, because nothing can feel worse than what I'm going through, nothing could possibly be any worse.