The Golden Girl

Chapter 22

The door swung open, and there she was. She looked frail, but she still managed to smile.

"Sophie." She whispered.

I rushed forward, taking her hands.

"Oh Gran," I mumbled.

One hand escaped my grasp and cupped my cheek.

"You should have stayed." She murmured.

I shook my head, keeping my eyes pinned to hers. Even in her old age, they were still beautiful, the colour of honey in sunshine.

"What was it like?" She asked. 

A small smile played on my lips.

"Very sunny."

"It would have made you look like an angel." She grinned, motioning to my hair.

I laughed self consciously, "No Gran."

Her expression faded to tenderness, "You're just like your mother."

It hurt to hear her speak the words. I might have had her looks, but deep down I was nothing like her. I wasn't brave, I was hopelessly weak.

"No, I'm not," I muttered, looking away.

Her face grew serious.

"Sophie I am going to die."

My insides started to crumble.

"Don't say that-"

"You must accept it." She said, cutting me off. "Death is part of life, Sophie."

"That's why I hate life!" I exclaimed.

Her eyes narrowed, "Don't hate it."

I felt my being start to quiver. Why was she doing this to me?

"You don't understand," I muttered.

She let out a short laugh.

"My daughter died a month before her fortieth birthday. My husband died a year after. I have come to accept my loss, Soph." She said, softly. "You're the one that doesn't understand."

It felt like she had punched me in the stomach.

"Do it for me, Sophie. Please. Try and accept it, you have to move on and live your life." She tried to say, but her voice was wobbling, the once joyful smile becoming ever less evident.

I could barely breathe. "Promise me you'll try."

I nodded, feeling the moisture well up in my eyes. 

I couldn't stay. She was nearly gone. You could see it in her eyes. Those beautiful amber eyes were losing their colour. I got up to go, my body was shaking.

"Sophie?" Her voice was barely a whisper. "Promise me you'll sing." She said, keeping her figure propelled against the darkness.

"Yes, Gran. I promise." I murmured, and then I was out.

Running far far away, but it was like a maze. Every corner there was somebody in my way, somebody preventing me from my mission. I was going to get out. I had to.

✽

The breeze caused me to shiver. There was no sun, just a depressing overcast cloud that cemented my sadness. I felt hollow. There was no other way to describe it. I was a pitted out olive. An empty body filled with nothing. I knew what she had said was true. I needed to accept it, but the thought of looking it in the eye cut me to shreds. It wasn't possible. How could she expect me to turn and stare at that grave? How did she expect me to relive the trauma and take a step forward? It wasn't just the notion of facing it which feared me, but the idea of letting her go. As soon as I faced my trauma, it would become the past. She would become the past. I couldn't bear the thought, but something caused my withered body to stand. I would never do it for myself, but now there was another layer to the voice within. I had no choice. I had to do it. I had to do it for Gran.