Coco fanfic-To Be Forgotten

Different Shades of Grief

Yay, another chapter...well, hope ya'll enjoy

Miguel's POV

Papá Héctor's jaw fell into his lap, and he replaced it with a loud grito. Leaping from his chair, he went over to Mamá Imelda, lifting her into the air and twirling her around. I watched all of this, as well as their excited chattering, with a silent horror. Their voices just sort of melded together, distant in comparison to my heavy breathing and burning eyes.

'Mamá Coco's...dead.'

"What was that, Mijo?"

I blinked, looking up. I didn't realize that I'd said anything. I shook my head as I stared at the skeletons across from me, not sure how to even begin to explain what I was feeling.

'I...I understand they're happy to see Mamá Coco again. And I can see Mamá Coco still, because of these powers. So why am I so upset? What does death even matter, when you can visit anyone dead or alive? For that matter, what's the point of life? If everyone but me died tomorrow, would I even bother to go back to the Land of the Living? And would that technically be, like, suicide? If I never intended to go back? Or—'

A weight settled on my shoulders, startling me from my spiraling thoughts. My chest hurt, and I gasped for air, the need to breathe suddenly an overwhelming sensation. I coughed, almost choking on the oxygen entering my lungs.

"Easy, Mijo. I've got you." Papá Héctor whispered, rubbing soothing circles into my back. He used his other hand to pull the chair around, kneeling in front of me. "It's okay, Chamaco. It's going to be okay."

I wanted to ask him how he knew that, when mi familia was probably planning a funeral right now, or maybe didn't even know Mamá Coco was dead yet. I wanted to shout that it was easy for him to say that it would be okay, because he gained a family member while I lost one. But above all, I wanted to believe him, to trust that it would all work out okay for once, even if I couldn't see how that was possible.

"Come here," he said, wrapping his arms around me and standing back up. Sitting down in my chair, with me on his lap now, he moved forward and backwards, his hand keeping my head close to his chest.

It was...strange. He was wearing a similar shirt to mi papá, but I couldn't hear his heart, or feel any warmth. Still, with his soothing voice in my ear, and the gentle rocking motion, I felt like I was a little kid again, being comforted while I was sick or hurt.

'I wonder if Mamá Coco had this. If she missed it, when Papá Héctor left and never came back.' For a second, I tried to picture how it would feel, to be showered in this kind of love constantly, only to one day lose it, and never find out why. 'Maybe...maybe there was a reason that Mamá Coco never mentioned Papá Héctor after Mamá Imelda died.'

'But...but she can have it again. Because he's here, and she's here, and—'
I sniffled, pulling away from Papá Héctor. "We—we need to go see Mamá Coco! She's been waiting for you for decades, you've been waiting a century to see her, we need to—"

"Mijo."

Papá Héctor's hands were on my cheeks, and he was giving me this look, with his eyebrows all scrunched up, and then—"it's okay to miss her, Mijo. It's good to grieve her, and the memories you had with her in the Land of the Living." He smiled, though it was sadder than any smile I'd seen on his face yet. "And when everyone else has brought her back, and explained everything, I'm going to give her the biggest hug, and tell her how much I missed her, and loved her. But that—"

He swallowed, and I could see his vertebrae rattle slightly. "That doesn't mean I don't mourn the little girl I never got to see again. I wish, every day, that I got to see her grow up, to walk her down the aisle, to be with her when Victoria and Elena were born, and—"