Amour [h.s]

☼ fifty three ☼

"So I took myself where I think I should be, something told me that it was waiting here for me"

☼ ☼ ☼

Trigger warning: scattering of ashes / grief

Harry

We've been in Paris for twenty four hours now, and as much as we've been trying our absolute hardest to enjoy every moment, take in the views and the atmosphere. There's a huge weight tugging at our hearts.

It's unbearable and it's becoming too much to ignore.

We've been carrying Amora's ashes around with us. Amelie held onto them the whole journey to Paris. She refused to let them go.

Her tiny urn has been sitting at the bottom of the pushchair all day.

Amora has been experiencing Paris with us.

We've brought her home. To the city of love.

Though now we're here, I'm slightly worried that Amelie and I are going to back out and refuse to let her ashes go.

I had been so positive about it all, telling Amelie that it would help to get closure on her loss. Though I had never once forced her decision on it. This was an incredibly vulnerable and scary time, of course I would never pressure her on something like this.

We hadn't made the trip to specifically scatter her ashes. We made the trip so Amelie could have her little getaway and take her boys to one of her favourite places.

The intention wasn't to let Amora go. The intention was to have a nice family holiday. But if the time felt right, then there was only our dark minds stopping us.

"Mama!" Milo squeals out, picking a daisy from the grass and holding it out to Amelie.

"Oh my beautiful boy, aren't you so kind to mumma?" She says with a wide smile, taking the flower into her hands.

Milo turns back to the patch of daisies in front of him and picks another, he stares at it for a while, his fingers gently fumbling to pick the grass off the flower, a concentrated pout on his lips.

"Dada!" He holds it out to me with a proud smile.

"What a gentleman, daddy's been training you well, huh?" I say with a satisfied smirk. He watches and learns. I often find him watching me caring for Amelie and then when I'm only a few steps away, he'd be right beside her, copying exactly what I had been doing.

Milo gets back to work, picking at the grass, his chubby fingers trying to pinch another flower, and when he does he's holding it out to Amelie.

"Bo" he says, holding it right in front of Bo's face, waiting for him to take it. But of course our three month old baby just lies in Amelie's arms, his eyes darting all over the blue sky above us.