Rogue | outer banks

Flashback 4

No one tells you how it feels to lose a parent. Let alone both of them. It's not something you find in the pages of a self-help book or hear in the consoling whispers of well-meaning friends. The magnitude of the emptiness, the hollow ache that lingers in the spaces they once occupied, is a silent symphony of grief that plays in the background of every waking moment.

In the days that followed, the world seemed to blur at the edges, the colors muted as if grief had drained the vibrancy from existence itself. There's a heaviness that settles over your chest, an uninvited guest that takes up permanent residence. Breathing becomes a conscious effort, each inhalation a reminder of the void they left behind. The pain is insidious, creeping into the mundane details of life. It's in the untouched side of the bed, the empty chair at the dinner table, and the phone that remains silent. It's the phantom sounds of their footsteps, the expectation that they'll walk through the door, only to be met with the cruel reality that they never will again.

No one prepares you for the way grief manifests in the everyday — how their absence reverberates in the morning routine, the scent of their favorite coffee lingering in the air, or the reflex to pick up the phone and share a piece of your day. It's an endless series of micro-heartbreaks, a relentless assault on the normalcy you once took for granted. In the midst of condolences and sympathetic glances, the solitude of grief becomes palpable. The world continues to turn, people carry on with their lives, but within the grieving heart, time stands still. The permanence of the loss is an unwelcome truth, and the journey through grief is a solitary trek through uncharted emotional terrain.

No one tells you how you'll catch glimpses of them in the mirror — reflections of their smile, echoes of their laughter. These bittersweet apparitions become a source of solace and torment, a reminder of the beautiful lives that once intertwined with your own. No one tells you how it feels to lose a parent because, perhaps, words fall short in capturing the complexity of the emotion. It's a journey one must navigate personally, a path marked by tears, memories, and the gradual acceptance that life, though forever altered, must somehow continue.

I sat in the front row, my brother's presence a silent anchor on my right as Rafe stood somberly on my left. The weight of the moment pressed heavily upon us, and the echoes of grief reverberated through the air. Behind me, the familiar faces of JJ, John B, Pope, and Kie offered a silent wall of support, their presence both comforting and heart-wrenching.

The entire Island seemed to gather in a solemn assembly, a sea of faces that, in that moment, blurred into a collective expression of shared sorrow. Some were familiar, friends and acquaintances whose condolences I had heard in hushed whispers. Others were strangers, their presence a testament to the Island's unspoken solidarity in the face of tragedy.

The priest stood at the front, his voice a distant murmur as he spoke words that seemed to get lost in the vast emptiness of my grief-stricken mind. His attempts at solace, a well-intentioned balm, barely registered as my focus remained fixated on the two caskets flanking him.

On the right, my father's casket held the remnants of a life extinguished too soon. On the left, my mother's casket mirrored the devastating reality that they were both gone. The polished wood, adorned with floral arrangements, seemed to stand as stoic witnesses to the abrupt end of a chapter.

Their pictures, placed next to the caskets, served as haunting reminders of the vibrant lives they once led. The captured smiles, frozen in time, looked back at me from the frames — a cruel juxtaposition to the stillness that now enveloped them. Their eyes, once filled with warmth and familiarity, now stared at me through the frozen confines of a photograph.

My gaze oscillated between the lifeless forms and the pictures, as if trying to reconcile the animated memories with the stark reality before me. The ache in my chest intensified, a physical manifestation of the emotional turmoil that threatened to consume me whole.