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KNOW IT'S FOR THE BETTER?
11.23.2022


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the devils are on a thirteen game win streak at the moment, and i've gotten a goal every game for those past thirteen games. hopefully the streak continues tonight against the toronto maple leafs here in newark.

i was the last to leave the locker room tonight, but everyone left stupidly early to warm up. my brother called, so i answered it.

"hey, i'm about to go out on the ice, what's up?" i say. i put my phone on speaker next to me so i could make sure my laces were tight.

"oh, yeah. i forgot, i can- i'll just tell you later." he replies. why is he acting so weird?

"no it's fine, i have a minute. you can tell me now." i say.

"no, really. it's better if i wait until after the game." he says.

"trev, just say it." i say with a small chuckle. the next thing he was about to tell me definitely didn't deserve a chuckle.

"d-dad's gone."

i hang up.

just like that? not even three weeks ago he was diagnosed, and now he's gone? did he go in pain? were his last weeks happy? my thoughts sounded like they were underwater.

at least he doesn't have to be in pain anymore, his pain is gone.

pain doesn't leave, it's just passed on to someone else.

why does it have to be me?

no. it's for the better.

at least it isn't my mom or my brother.

but why does it have to be me?

know it's for the better?

i would feel helpless if my brother or my mom were in this situation, it's not like i can go to california to be there for them.

i know how to help myself.

i know it's for the better.

how am i supposed to go out there and play in fifteen minutes? my mind is a mess. i would be jeopardizing my team.

i didn't have enough time with him, i've hardly seen him since i got drafted and that's nobody's fault but mine. i'm always busy because if hockey.

maybe i should quit.

breathe, stella.

i'm not about to have a panic attack, it feels different. there's a clump in my throat and my eyes are beginning to burn.

my chest hurts but not in the way it usually does. it's hard to breathe but not in the way it usually does.

"stella?"

my glossy eyes look up into those green ones for the millionth time, but this time, the sparkle in them dies.

"he's gone?"

i nod.

"stella." he says sympathetically.

he sits down next to me. his left arm pulls me into the crook of his left arm. his right hand softly holds mine that's currently sitting in my lap. i wrap both of my arms around his torso.

i felt something wet my hair, i was too busy crying to realize it, until i feel a couple more.

he's crying, too.

"he's not in pain anymore, it's for the better." i say recalling the words i forced myself to believe minutes ago.

"i know it's for the better." i hear him say. i wish he didn't speak. i didn't want to hear the happy boy i've always known have such a shaky, timid voice.

the pain that comes with losing someone so close is indescribable. you can't understand it until you go through it no matter how deeply someone explains it to you. it's as if all the rivers lost their flow, all the oceans lost their tide, the sun stops shining.

the pain never goes away no matter how longs it's been. all the memories that contain this person become permanently painful memories.

i don't know what my grief'll look like tomorrow. but i'll face it. i'll feel it. as his memory washes over me, one day at a time, one wave at a time.

to love someone so much, grief is the price of admission. the cost of the human condition. but i guess i have to pay it now.

one day, i'll see him again. soon we'll be together. but for now, i'll wait on this earth while he dances up in the skies.

it's impossible to imagine a color you haven't seen, right?

i think that's similar to grief.

it's impossible to know what grief will feel like until it happens to you.

and god i wish it didn't happen to me.

"i'm not gonna let you do this alone," jack states while his chin rests on the top of my head. "i'll be right here anytime you need me, okay? if you want to cry, talk, reminisce, or anything, i'm here. i have a punching bag in my basement and a ton of unused glass plates and bowls." he says.

"that last offer sounds pretty good." i say with a small sniffle.

"i'll do it as long as you are." he says. "i'll do anything if you ask me to."

"wait, what about the game." i say sitting up. i completely forgot, it had to have start by now.

"first period is almost over." he states.

"why didn't you tell me?" i ask.

"that's not more important than this, love." jack says. "we should probably go, though. they should be coming in here soon."

"so we're just ditching the game?" i ask.

"mhm."

"coach is gonna be so mad."

"you are leaving for personal reasons."

"and what about you?"

"i'll take whatever punishment he wants to give me."

"it's not worth it, j." i state. he can't just leave without an explanation, i at least have one.

"i meant what i said." jack states. "i'm not letting you hurt by yourself."

"come on, we'll sneak out the back." he says once i change out of my pads and uniform.

"why do i feel like i'm ditching school." i say walking out of the back door.

"because it kind of is."

"do you think we'll win the game?" i ask.

"no way, not without you playing in it." jack states.

"don't say that."

"i'm an honest person, stel."



AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Waiting room is the best Phoebe song ever and my third favorite song ever

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