Seasons of Change

20

The next few days were rough as Atira helped her father plan a funeral for her mother. And by help, it meant she was doing all of the work. It was fortunate that money wasn't an issue for her family as the cost of death was ridiculous.

Atira notified family, both close and extended, friends, acquaintances, and work colleagues, taking down e-mail addresses to send further details of the service.

She scheduled the service to be held at the local Catholic church her parents had attended, ordered flowers, selected a coffin, and all the other little details that went along with funeral planning.

Being that Douglas had been well aware of the fact his wife had been terminal, Atira felt extremely disgusted that he had not pre-planned anything, instead, he was too preoccupied with grieving with his slut of a nurse.

Had Alexandria not filled her daughter in on the type of man that Douglas Allen truly was, she would have been horrified. Instead, she was filled with anger over the fact he cared more than drinking and getting his rocks off versus at least pretending to care that he'd lost his wife of nearly four decades.

No, not Douglas. Instead, it was as if he felt relieved he could parade his inappropriate relationship with that nurse around out in the open. By the third day of Atira coming to the home, he had no longer even bothered to hide his affection towards Jocelyn, who was the same age as Atira.

As she had made the walk towards her mother's bedroom, she saw them near the wet bar. Jocelyn leaned up against the granite counter, wearing an orange summer dress with a plunging neckline, Douglas pressed against her, kissing her along the neck as Jocelyn giggled and murmured to him.

They hadn't seen her and if they had, they probably wouldn't have cared. Atira felt strongly about women who engaged with married men as it was but there was something more disgusting about a woman who entertained the husband of her dying cancer patient.

Hot, angry tears streamed down Atira's cheeks as she entered her mother's bedroom, closing the door behind her. Her heart hurt for Alexandria. Atira wished that she could go back in time to that teenage mother and tell her she could live her dreams out without Douglas, that it's ok to struggle, and that she didn't have to listen to all the rotten things her family had filled her head with.
She would have been fine by herself.

Yes, Alexandria had hurt Atira in turn and that hurt lingered but she finally understood the saying hurt people hurt people. She just wished that Alexandria could have felt safe telling her why she had been scared to let Atira have an intimate boyfriend.

She sat on the bed for a good while, thinking about everything she had learned of her mother, her heart aching. Atira was truly grateful that she finally filled her in on all these unknowns from Alexandria's past and she was grateful to have had the chance to make peace.

But it only leads to more questions. There were so many things that she didn't know about her mother that she wished she had thought to ask. She wanted to know her favorite memory from her childhood, her favorite memory spent with Atira. What was her favorite song? Did she have a favorite recipe? And now she would never know.

Atira supposed she could ask her father but she had the nagging suspicion that Douglas didn't know or didn't care, not that she really wanted to engage with him after the funeral anyway.

She thought about how lonely her mother must have felt in her marriage with Douglas rarely home and when he was, he was drinking. She thought about the resentment Alexandria had to have felt knowing it was her husband's alcoholism that stole her precious little boy from her. If heaven was real, Atira hoped Alexandria was up there with her Gabriel in her arms once again.