I love you to death.

Chapter 2: Grieving

    3:06AM
    My clock read in big red numbers and I can not sleep. My mind is racing.
Where is he? Is he okay? Can he hear me?
The tears take less than two seconds to come and land onto my pillow. I guess I was crying louder than expected. Josie came into my room and crawled next to me and held me.
    "I know hun, it's okay. Just cry."
She whispers rubbing my back.
    "I miss him. I miss him so much."
I sob and roll to face her.
Josie wipes my tears with my bedsheet and holds me tight. I can feel her heartbeat through her tank top.
    "I wish I was like you. I wish I was not able to cry."
She smiles and brushes a piece of hair behind my ear.
    "If I am being honest, I am a mess. I have a bottle of Vodka under my bed and I have been having a few drinks. I miss him too, maybe not in the same way as you but I am just dealing with Hudson differently. Grief is weird. It feels like just yesterday, we were going swimming and playing beer pong at the lake house with him. Its weird to think it has been over a year since then."
    I feel more empathetic to Josie. I did not know she was hurting so bad. She is not one to touch alcohol, but then again until today I had never seen her smoke a cigarette. Especially in front of our dad.
        "I love you."
I mumble into her shoulder and before I know it, I am in a daze falling asleep in my sisters arms.

    I wake up to the sound of my mother yelling at someone on the phone. Someone probably messed up our grocery order again. I look over and Josie is passed out in a starfish position, snoring, drooling.
    I quietly get out of bed without disturbing her and go to the washroom. When I get to the mirror, I don't recognize who I see. I have barely eaten since everything happened. My eyes are puffy and bloodshot. If Hudson were to see me, he would probably ask me if I was hungover. He had a weird sense of humour where basically insulting me was a compliment. One time he told me I was perfect and then proceeded to tell me I was the prettiest homeless girl he had ever seen. I would do anything to be made fun of by him right now.
    I let out a sigh and brush my teeth. It has been a bit since I did that. My self care schedule has been out of whack for days. I have not washed my hair, let alone showered. Dry shampoo has been my saving grace.
As I leave the bathroom and walk down the hallway, I hear my phone ping and my heart drops because I know that as soon as I check it, it will probably be a condolence text. I swallow my pride and grab it. It is just my mom:
        Mom: Did you take the trash out?
    It read in big bold letters. It took me everything to not throw my phone onto the ground and stomp on it. I don't give a fuck about the trash. My mom has not even asked me if I am okay or told me she is sorry for anything. She may have hated Hudson and I think she slowly started hating me for dating him.
   
    "He is not good for you. He is going to knock you up and then what? I am going to be stuck raising a little bastard child and I won't be able to enjoy my 30s ."
I remember her saying that over breakfast one morning and I wanted to throw my cup of orange juice all over her stupid, white workout clothes she was wearing and not to mention, she is thirty eight. She acts like her thirties are just starting.
        "Oh yes Leslie, because you were such a perfect little angel, Were you not nineteen and pregnant with me?"
    Josie shot back at her and laughed.
My mom gave her a look and told her to eat her breakfast and mind her business.
   
    I walked downstairs to pour myself a cup of coffee. I seen my parents sitting at the table in the corner of my eye but I did not acknowledge. My father writing notes for his next session and my mother still yelling into her Iphone.
       
    "Morning Jac"
My dad says quietly scribbling in his notebook. So quiet, I could barely hear him. I give him a little wave and give my mom a short glance. She finally hung up the phone.
   
    "The damn gardener killed my petunias. She should be in her own country fucking up her flowers. Why do we pay her, if all she is going to do is mess up?"

    She says sipping the rest of her smoothie. She then, grabs her bag and takes off to the gym without giving me a second of her attention as per usual.
I sit down and look at my dad, hoping that a reaction would come out of him to my mother's ignorant comment. He just continued writing his notes.
   
    "How have you put up with that for so long?"
He gives me a chuckle and shrugged.
   
    "Love is a funny thing, I guess. I admire your mothers persistence and drive. She is stubborn."
I hear faint footsteps on the stairs and Josie comes in yawning.
   
    "No one talk to me, until I have had my iced coffee."
She growls under her breath.
   
I could tell she was hungover. She is usually a ray of sunshine in the morning and acts like she has a can of red bull injected into her veins.
Our morning was silent after that. No one knew what to talk about or say. All I could think of was Hudson and Steph. I should go see Jason, but maybe they need more family time. I know Steph would tell me I am crazy for saying that because I am family, but I had no idea what to even talk to her about. What do you say to someone who's son just died?
I finish my coffee and look out the window.
Sunshine.
    It was so nice outside and supposed to be a really warm day. Most people would go for a walk or go to the beach and tan. All I wanted to do was crawl into bed and never leave. I don't want this to be my reality. I want to go back to two weeks ago when I had my boyfriend, we were in love and he was not in the ground six feet deep. That is such a weird thing to think about. Two weeks ago, I was kissing my boyfriend in his backyard by a fire, roasting marshmallows. Today I am thinking that my boyfriend is going to end up being a skeleton in a box in the ground. It sounds very dark and sadistic but it is true. My life will never be the same. I wish I had a time machine.

    I play Hudson's favourite songs on my speakers in my room. He loved the Dad rock, but had a guilty pleasure for the seventies music, ABBA specifically. The amount of times I have seen that boy perform "Dancing Queen" in his living room for me is probably a lot higher than most nineteen year old boys have. It made me think of what Jason said to me at the funeral. I made him a better person, I made him happy. I guarantee no other person has seen him act that goofy besides me. I feel honoured.

    I miss the connection we have. He always had a cheeky thing to say, but when it came down to something serious you would think he was the therapist and not my dad. He had wisdom beyond his years. He was nineteen, but mentally in his fifties but also acted like a twelve year old boy when he was around his friends. A man child, but in the best ways. He was always a phone call away or if I texted him asking to hang out, he was at my door in minutes. He was my knight in shining armour when I had to get away from the chaos of my mother. He was not a fan of her, but mostly because of the way she treated me. Most parents act different around significant others, but my mother wears her personality like a badge of honour. Any snooty comment or remark she could think of would come out of her mouth like it was nothing. She did not hold back, especially when it came to Hudson. Her words were like poison some days and it was exhausting to deal with.
  My dad always liked him. He always respected Hudson and Made him feel welcome. I think it is because my dad lost my grandpa when he was young, so he sympathized. He wanted him to feel welcomed in our home. I found them out the garage a few times talking about psychology and conspiracy theories a few times when they had a few minutes. It was a very nice sight seeing Hudson bond with a father figure. He called my mom a bitch once and my dad laughed and no intent to defend her. They shared a few inside jokes which I never understood what was so funny about it. My dad was not a humorous guy, just very awkward. I guess Hudson just managed to break down that wall with him. He had a way of doing that to people.
    It has been eight days since I last talked to him. I had no idea how easy life could go from so happy to depressing and lonely, like part of me was missing. I guess I have to get used to it.