.⋆｡⋆🍯˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.
❛ 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞. ❜
blue romero fled to la when she
was eighteen years old, with
absolutely nothing - not even
a name. all of that changes
just by walking into a bakery.
911 S1-5 BUCK...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I had lost people I cared about before — But never to death.
Death was very different than simply cutting things off with your parents, or not returning a friend's phone calls. It was a cold, quick, and very, very permanent type of loss.
And it didn't just stop there either. You still had to wake up every morning and remember they were gone. You had to feel that aching in your heart knowing you'll never get to see or hear them again. You had to feel like a part of you was missing, and accept that you would never get it back.
For those reasons and more — I didn't know what to say to Abby when she called me about losing her mom.
I could say it would all be okay, but that felt naive. Like, how would I know that? And what if it was never okay again? Then saying that would just make me look like an asshole.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized there would never be a right thing to say to someone who was grieving. The best I could do was be her friend.
So Buck and I went to her mother's funeral alongside Athena and Fiona. It felt like the right thing to do since we all helped find her mother a few months before, and we were some of Abby's closest friends.
The service was done in a nice funeral home, and the burial ceremony outside. It was a sweet and beautiful day, and even though I didn't know her well, I knew it was what Patricia deserved.
Fiona and I did catering and clean up to take something off of Abby's plate. I even made some of the recipes I got from Patricia.
And after all was said and done, I offered to come over and cook dinner too and Buck tagged along.
I hung my black knit cardigan as soon as we got to the apartment so I could began tidying up the kitchen and preparing a simple meal.
On Abby's white island stood a vase of green and white flowers — and somewhere in between me wiping off the counter and filling up a pot of water, they'd ended up in the trash.
