A Longing Kind of Love

Prologue

Paige

4 Months Ago

This place reeks of mothballs. I love my grandmother but gosh do I hate coming to this place, it's so depressing. Her room door is decorated with finger paintings that she made in arts and crafts. It's kind of sad when I think about it. Little kids in preschool do finger paintings. The way the staff has to babysit and entertain the elderly the same way they do for preschoolers is peculiar. The circle of life is strange.

I open her door and grandma is rocking in her rocking chair with her back turned to me. Two months ago, my grandfather died, and my mom put her here a month later, in a nursing home. She is quieter than she used to be. My grandpa had Alzheimer's, it was rough on her, and it took a toll on her physically too.

"Hey, Grams. I brought you some soup Momma made for you." I tell her.

Her chair stops rocking, and she rises slowly. I set the soup down and go to help her. Once I have her sitting on the bed, I put the soup in the microwave.

"Well, hello Paige! Thank you for visiting and for bringing soup. How thoughtful of you." I mock since she hasn't said a word to me. Glancing over my shoulder, I see she had a slight smirk on her face.

"Alright, you smartass. Bring me my soup," she says playfully while she pulls her table to the edge of her bed. Good, I got a smile out of her. Every time I visit, I play a game with myself to see how many times I can make her laugh and smile. A smile is worth one point, and a laugh is worth three. Last time I came, I made her smile seven times and laugh twice, so that is thirteen points.

I put the soup on her table and asked her what she wanted to talk about. She looked at me, puzzled. Normally, I just start talking about random stuff when I come in but, I felt like I needed to change it up. She never talks about anything, other than the stuff that the staff makes her participate in, so she pretty much just complains. I wait for her to talk, and she glances over to the window and she says, "I feel like a shell."

I'm confused by that statement. "You feel like a shell?" I question.

"Without Jimmy," she pauses, "I am empty."  She stares at the window as if she is looking for something. She continues, "Honey, I know I haven't been pleasant to be around. I'm sorry. It's just that this is something you won't understand, not yet. When you lose the person you love, life doesn' seem worth living."

I give her a startled look. I hope she isn't saying what I think she is saying. She pauses and looks as if she is collecting herself.

"Paige get that look off your face, I'm not suicidal. I'm sad, and I am going to be until I die, which won't be too long I hope. I know this is morbid for you since you are so young." she sighs, grabbing my hands under the table.

This is strange talking to her like this. I haven't heard her talk so frank since grandpa died. Still, I am feeling unsettled. This is the first time she is talking about his death with me. I don't even know if she has talked to my mom about it. Mom has only come to see her twice since she has been here, but I can't say I blame her because usually, she isn't very friendly and hardly corresponds in any way.

She looks me hard in the eyes, and I see a tear form in the corner of her eye. She goes on to say,  "The reason why I am a shell is because I no longer have a heart. I can't love another person again. I gave all my love and heart to Jimmy. The day he died, he took that love with him into the afterlife. Until I can be there with him, it will stay because it belongs to him and only him," she pauses and collects herself, " How can someone live without their heart? Without what keeps them going? When you find that person, you will know. You will hand your heart on a silver platter to that person, and hope that they offer theirs back. The two of you will take care of those hearts, and of course, there will be mistakes made, but your heartbeat will still go on. When Jimmy died, all I was left with was his heart, and as much as I cherish it, my heart is gone, and the balance is lost."

My voice is stuck in my throat. I've never felt anything remotely like that. It sounds bewildering, in a good and bad way. I always saw Grandma and Grandpa as one entity since I could remember. The affection they had towards each other was palpable, and it was something I admired. Seeing her now so desolate, it makes me wonder if it is all worth it. I'm sure it's great while it lasts, but when or if that person dies or leaves, the person left is forever crushed and unfinished. I've had relationships, but never once did I feel anything like what she is saying.

"How do you know?" I ask her as she strokes the back of my hand.

"How do you know what?" she snaps.

"When you've met that person. The 'one' that everyone seems to talk about." I explain. She ponders for a second and grins like she knows something that I don't.

"Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head. You'll know. Hell, you might know him already."

I blink rapidly and tug my hands from hers, stunned by her tone. She then starts laughing hysterically, and I can't tell if she was joking with me, or if she was serious.

"Oh, how I wish I could be here when you open your eyes." she chuckles to herself.

I choose to ignore that because I don't know what she means by that, and I don't have the energy to open that can of worms. I'm just going to sum it up to her being a crazy old woman.

"Enough about me, tell me something about grandpa that I may not know," I say, changing the subject back to her.

**Hey ya'll! The prolouge is up now and we have started. I choose the song Cigarettes and Coffee because I was listening to the song while writting this chapter.
Thank you for the likes and votes, it really means a lot!❤️❤️**

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