Finding Her Canvas

Chapter 45

Lily pov

The news came like a sudden storm, ripping through the calm of our everyday life. I was sitting in the library at school, working on a history assignment, when my phone buzzed with a message from my mom. Her text was short but heavy: "Call me when you can. We need to talk."

My heart sank. I could tell from the tone of the message that something serious was happening. I quickly finished up my work and called my mom. Her voice, when she answered, was strained. "Lily, I need you to sit down. Grandma passed away this morning."

I was stunned. My grandmother had always been a warm, constant presence in our lives, even though she lived all the way in Italy. I hadn't seen her in a few months, but the idea that she was gone was almost impossible to grasp. Mom explained that she had been sick for a while, but the news still hit hard.

After the call, I tried to focus on my work, but my mind was elsewhere. I thought about my mom's grief, and I felt helpless. She was flying to Italy with my dad to handle the arrangements and take care of everything there. I understood that they needed to be there, but it meant that I would have to manage things at home in their absence.

The next few days were a whirlwind. I was suddenly responsible for handling the household chores, cooking, and making sure everything ran smoothly. I didn't have any siblings to help, so it all fell on me. At school, I had to juggle my homework and projects while taking on these new responsibilities at home.

Every day was a balancing act. I woke up early to get a head start on my chores—cleaning, laundry, and preparing meals. Then, I'd head to school, where I tried to keep up with my classes and assignments. After school, I'd come back home, finish up my chores, and work on my art projects. It was exhausting, and there were days when I felt like I was barely keeping my head above water.

In the midst of all this, I found solace in my art. I threw myself into my projects, using them as an escape from the stress and pressure of my new responsibilities. My art became a way to express my feelings and process everything that was happening. It was a comfort, but it also meant I had to be very disciplined with my time to fit everything in.

One afternoon, as I was working on a painting in the kitchen while waiting for a pot of soup to simmer, Mia came over. She had noticed that I seemed off in school and wanted to check in. "Hey, Lily. You've been looking pretty tired lately. Everything okay?"

I gave her a tired smile. "Yeah, just... a lot going on right now. My grandma passed away, and my parents are in Italy. I've got to manage everything here at home."

Mia's expression softened with sympathy. "I'm so sorry, Lily. That sounds really tough. If there's anything I can do to help, just let me know."

I appreciated her offer, but I didn't want to burden her with my problems. "Thanks, Mia. I've got it under control, but I really appreciate it."

She nodded, looking around at the mess of paint and brushes scattered across the kitchen table. "You know, if you ever need to talk or take a break, I'm here. And maybe I could help with your art projects, too. It might give you a bit of a breather."

That was kind of her to offer, but I was already so far behind with everything that I didn't want to ask for more help. "I think I've got it covered. I'm just trying to keep everything balanced."

As the days went on, I started to get a little more used to the new routine. I set up a schedule to make sure I could keep up with schoolwork, chores, and art. I kept track of deadlines and made sure to use every free moment wisely. I also learned how to make quick and easy meals, which helped save time and energy.

Even though things were hectic, there were moments when I felt like I was finding a rhythm. I started to enjoy the little things—like cooking a new recipe or organizing my art supplies. I found that even in the middle of all this, I could still find joy in the small victories.

There were, of course, days when I felt completely overwhelmed. One evening, after a particularly long day of school and chores, I was working on a painting and accidentally knocked over a cup of water. It spilled all over my canvas, ruining hours of work. I felt a wave of frustration and despair.

I sat down on the floor, feeling like I had reached my limit. It was then that I realized I needed to reach out for support. I called Mia and asked if she could come over. When she arrived, I showed her the mess and explained what happened.

Mia looked at the ruined painting and then at me. "It's okay, Lily. This stuff happens. You've been doing so much, and it's okay to have a moment where things don't go perfectly."

Her words were comforting. We spent the evening talking and laughing about everything that had gone wrong lately. Mia helped me clean up and even started helping me with a new painting. It was a relief to have someone to lean on, and I felt a bit of the weight lift off my shoulders.

As the days went by, I started to find a better balance. I got better at managing my time and keeping up with my responsibilities. I also found that sharing my struggles with Mia and other friends helped me feel less isolated.

By the time my parents returned, I had managed to keep everything running smoothly at home. They were grateful for my help and relieved to see that things were under control. I was exhausted, but I was also proud of what I had accomplished.

Despite the stress and challenges, I learned a lot about myself during this time. I discovered that I was more resilient than I had thought. I learned to prioritize and manage my time better. And I realized how important it was to lean on my friends and accept help when I needed it.

When my parents came back, they were deeply appreciative. "Thank you so much, Lily," my mom said, hugging me tightly. "We know it wasn't easy, and we're so grateful for everything you did."

"It was tough," I admitted. "But I managed. I think we all did pretty well."

We all sat together as a family, talking about Grandma and sharing stories about her.

A few days after their return, we prepared for Grandma's memorial service. The ceremony was held in a small church near her home in Italy. My parents set up a video call for the service so that I could attend remotely. The ceremony was simple but filled with love and memories. I watched as family members spoke about Grandma, sharing stories and expressing their love and respect for her.

Seeing everyone come together to remember Grandma was comforting, though it also made me wish I could have been there in person. I watched as the congregation lit candles and placed flowers around Grandma's photograph. It felt like a small, distant way to participate in the grief and remembrance that was happening so far away.

The memorial ended with a song that Grandma had loved. It was a poignant moment, and I felt a deep sense of connection to her, even from afar. My parents and I spoke afterward, sharing our feelings and supporting each other through this difficult time. We all sat together as a family, talking about Grandma and sharing stories about her. It was comforting to remember the good times and to know that her memory would live on with us.