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Prompt - Mary raises John as her own with Francis but in modern day
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"Where're we going, momma?" John de Valois-Angouleme asked his mother, walking through the long, uncut green grass upon his mothers' hand. His shoes came up dewy from the moisture from the dirt and grass. His big blue eyes looked up at his mother wondrously, blonde curls falling behind his neck as he arched up to look the only mother he had ever known in her eyes. Blue and golden clashed in a beautifully mismatched way, and Mary began to think of an answer for her son.
"We're going to visit somebody very special, little one." Mary answered her son slowly, walking past another large piece of indented concrete-marble, slowly scanning the names until she found the one she'd been looking for. Her husband couldn't bring himself to go with them this day, and that was fine, there would be plenty of other opportunities for the three of them to come here together.
"Who, mama?" John asked her, his little, three year old fingers latching onto his mothers' even tighter as she began to stop. John stopped his rapid toddling to look at the marble that stood at his height. Mary smiled sadly at the name, crouching down to John's level, pointing at the name.
"Do you recognise that name, sweet boy?" Mary asked him. John squinted at the letters, but shook his head. Mary smiled softly at him, wrapping her other arm around her boy when he leaned in closer. "That's okay. Would you like me to tell you who that is?"
"Yup." he popped the 'P', looking at her expectantly. She smiled softly at him. He looked just like Francis did when he was that age.
Mary looked deeply into the marble indentations.
Here lies the body of
Lola Mary Elizabeth Fleming-Varga
April 1st, 1997 - October 2nd, 2014
Mother, sister, cousin and friend
Gone too soon, but never forgotten
"Who's that, momma?" John asked impatiently.
"That, my little boy, is your mother." Mary whispered to her child. He cocked his head to the side, looking at her strangely.
"But you're mama. You've always been mama." he stated, confused. Mary smiled patiently at her child.
"And I always will be mama, but this girl-" she looked towards the grave. "grew you in her belly." Mary poked his stomach. He giggled.
"Oh." he accentuated. "That's her?" he asked.
"It is." Mary affirmed. "I know it'll seem a little weird here, babe. But your Papa always brings you here on the anniversary that she went up to Gods hands. He can't do it today, it's adult stuff. He wants you to remember her."
"But I don't," John stated, cocking his head to the side. Mary smiled at him again, nodding.
"No, you don't." Mary agreed. "Look, see that next one?" she asked, getting up and leading him to the next tombstone. Although Mary didn't want a child to be in a graveyard this young, she understood why Francis wanted him to come and be near the body of the woman he never got to know.
"Yes." John said.
"This man, was this girl's husband." she said slowly, looking at the other tombstone.
Here lies the body of
Remy Julian Varga
August 31st, 1992 - October 1st, 2014
Beloved step-father, brother, son, friend
Died a hero, never to be forgotten
"And he went up to heaven trying to save you." Mary whispered to him.
"Huh?"
"You were a little baby at the time, love. You hadn't even been born yet, still in Lola's tummy. But their house caught fire, and Remy saved you and Lola from it. But he went to heaven in the process. Lola stayed on the ground long enough to give birth to you, but we found out that you were in fact not Remy's son, but your Papa's. Remember Papa and I told you about that?"
"Yes, mama."
"Lola was my friend, my cousin. She made me promise to look after you and love you and be your mama, 'cause she was going to God and couldn't be there for you. But she's looking down on you now, and she loves you very much, baby."
"Was she nice?" he asked her. Mary chuckled humorlessly.
"When she wanted to be. She didn't always make the best decisions, didn't always say the best things or do the best things, but she had a heart, a heart that wanted to be good. I think she just didn't know how to be good." Mary confessed.
John paused. "Mama?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"You're still mama, right? Even though I didn't grow in your tummy?"
"Of course, love. You're not guilty of your mother's mistakes, or your fathers. And I love you." she smiled.
"Love you, mama."