Someone to Stay

four

tw// grief, death

_

"My mom died a week ago," a new girl, Toni, was sharing. "It wasn't a tragic death, she was old, and at that point, we were practically estranged... but I loved her."

Carmen felt for her; the emotions were so raw and vivid that she felt like she could touch them. And slowly, she started to understand why support groups thrive and help so many people. Outside of these spaces, it's either, one, you mourn with someone who knows all the little details as they, too, have lost the same person. Or two, people who will make you the center of attention, who will look at you with eyes filled with pity as they are outsiders to the loss.

But here, in this tiny circle, every Thursday night, you are surrounded by those who will not condole you nor deduce your feelings.

And then Toni continued, "it's been weird. I didn't think it would affect me this much, but it has. When her caregiver called to tell me the news, the first day, I was unaffected; even went out to lunch with a friend and didn't mention what happened to anyone. It had been three years since we were last in contact, and even that wasn't a good experience..." She trailed on.

"But it has affected me, I mean, I'm here." She shrugged. "I'm usually resistant to things like this, but I was forced to go two years ago when my brother died, and it worked, so I thought why not go today?" She ended with that and leaned back on her chair.

The group assured Toni of their support for her, and then Dian interjected, "would anyone else like to share?"

Carmen felt her heart pounding in her chest, and she remembered what her Speech 30 professor told her in her freshman year: if you're nervous, it's a sign that you should speak up. Baka hindi ka pa makatulog mamayang gabi dahil kinimkim mo 'yan.

She raised her hand, although uncertain. Dian smiled at her, and from her peripheral, she saw Ariel fix his eyes on her as well. "Carmen, yes?"

Shit. What have I done? "I-I'm sorry, maybe not."

"It's okay. If you're not ready, you don't have to. There's always a next time," was Dian's reply; it was genuine, and she didn't feel any pressure. She was glad she was given an out and was about to take it when the rapid beating of her heart told her otherwise. Carmen's eyes scanned the circle, and their statures were the same as Dian's; supportive, calm, unassuming.

Well, except for Ariel.

When their eyes locked, it held a depth that she could not comprehend. He gave her a warm smile and a nod as if acting as her safety net. Encouraging her to speak up and assuring that he will be there to catch her if in case she trips and falls.

Silence.

Okay, I'm ready.

"Uhm, hi, I'm Carmen," they echo back to her. "So, my husband and son passed away a little over two years ago." She heaved a deep sigh.

"I-I don't think I'm ready to share what happened yet," her voice cracked at the tail end of the admittance, and Dian was quick to come to her aid.

"It's okay; you can stop whenever you want, Carmen." She assured.

Carmen smiled tightly but continued, "A few days ago, I did one of Stephen, and I's yearly traditions. He was that kind of guy," she chuckled. "whenever we did something that brought us joy, it would instantly become a thing, our thing. He'd keep track of it, too. He and Gab would learn and master a football trickshot every 3rd Saturday once every two months, and we'd even have a 'MaDaGa' day semi-annually," tears formed in her eyes at the thought of it alone.