Honey

40. Exactly What I Wished For.

Apocalypse~Cigarettes after sex

I listened to it on repeat while writing this and let's just say tears were shed.

Please, with so much love from me, your humble author, enjoy this final entry to the story that I will hold dear to my heart for years to come,
~Nia <3

The unforgiving wind blows my tousled hair in all directions, reminding me once again how necessary a haircut has become recently. I would've cut it myself, if I had the time that is.

My face is raw, my skin a fierce red from the unruly breeze battling against me. My hands are cold, too cold. I rub them together in an attempt to provide myself with even a speck of heat, but it's futile. I didn't think it would be this cold, hence why I only brought a light jacket with me. I regret not preparing for these almost Arctic winds. I stuff my hands into my pockets, losing patience by the second.

Where is he? He should be here by now. We hadn't been here in a while. The cemetery. I release a pitiful sigh, my heated breathe hitting the cold air in a swirling cloud. Place gives me the creeps.

I stare down at the marble headstone, etched out images in the stone making for a beautiful sight despite the lurking atmosphere of sorrow that surrounds it. I know God has a disliking towards me, but I still pray. It's the only thing I can think to do to pass the time. I never met the woman, but I could still be respectful. I read over the words etched into the marble that by now are ingrained into my brain.

Kassandra Baker
Beloved mother and Grandmother
1948-2022
She will be sorely missed

I wish I could have met her. I'm not sure if she'd actually like me, but I can imagine I would've liked her if Thomas's fond memories do her any justice. He talks about her a lot these days. He didn't really have much chance to grieve her when she passed, so it comes out in little pieces now.

Mom always used to tell me that grieving is a slow process, and I suppose Thomas is a great example of that fact.

The clouds shield the cemetery from the much needed sun, providing an even gloomier atmosphere. Again I ask myself, where is Thomas? I swear the boy's got the worst time management skills of anyone I've ever met.

"Any chance you could manifest into a ghost and tell him to hurry up?" No Billy, because you're talking to a headstone. I shiver at how creepy that is.

"Y-you know he talks about you a lot." I'm not sure what I'm doing, but it seems like something people do, so I continue. "All the time actually. I really wanted to meet you, but well....you know, circumstances and such. He said he told you about me, a-and that you were happy. He loved when you were happy." I feel crazy as I glance around me to check that no one's listening. Just in case, I drop my voice to a whisper.

"I don't know how much you know, but it's not my place to tell you anyway." I mutter, referring to Thomas's parents kicking him out. God it feels so long ago now. "B-but he misses you and I know he needs you now more than ever. He's stuck with me though, so I suppose that's enough for now. I just wish things were different. He's so lost without you." The wind hits me again, the skin of my face now red and raw with the stinging, cold air.

"I'll try my best. I'll take care of him for you." I stare out across the rest of the surrounding area, the large oak tree only a few feet away bristling in the wind, it's leaves whispering secrets out into the world, carried away by the bustling winds. There's no one else here, no one but me. Many of the headstones look like they haven't had anyone to stand over them in a long time. The grass around them has grown slightly taller and looks greener compared to the more travelled areas.