Shattered Tears

Chapter Four

Lizabeth sat on the worn couch in the dimly lit cabin, her eyes transfixed on the flickering television screen. The silent cabin was filled only with the soft ticking of a clock on the mantel. It was Christmas Eve, and she couldn't bring herself to even think about decorating. The boxes of ornaments and lights were still packed away in the storage closet, untouched since last year. The memory of setting up their small tree and hanging stockings by the fire felt like a distant dream now, one that brought a heavy ache to her chest.

Her body was huddled into the corner of the couch, knees pulled up to her chest and arms tightly wrapped around them. The flickering lights from an old Christmas movie washed over her, but she didn't really see it. She held a half-eaten can of cold beans in one hand, absentmindedly picking at it with a spoon as her thoughts raced through darker places. It was just something to do, to give her hands purpose while her mind swirled with painful memories.

Her phone buzzed once more, ignored and left on the coffee table. Another missed call joined the list of notifications already piling up from her mom, her friends, all trying to reach out and bring her back into the world. But she wasn't ready to be pulled out of this dark place she had found herself. She wasn't ready. Not yet.

Everywhere she turned, she saw Conroy.

He seemed to linger in her presence, always just at the edge of her sight. She could almost feel him sitting beside her, his energy still present. Sometimes, she thought she caught a glimpse of him in town, walking with his familiar stride down the street. For a brief moment, her heart would leap with hope before reality crashed back down. Conroy was gone. It couldn't have been him after all.

He had always loved Christmas. It had been their holiday—the one time of year they could both slow down from the chaos of work, of life, and simply be together. He used to tangle himself in the Christmas lights while trying to decorate, making a joke out of it every year, and she'd laugh as he'd stumble around with the Santa hat crooked on his head. He'd insist on baking cookies from scratch, even though they usually turned out burnt or misshapen. Those were her favorite moments—just the two of them, enjoying the simplicity of the season, wrapped up in their own little world.

That life felt like a distant dream now. The memories, which had once brought her joy, now served as painful reminders of what she had left behind. The weight of it all was like a heavy burden on her shoulders, a never-ending sorrow that she couldn't escape no matter how much she wanted to.

Lizabeth let out a small sigh and set the can of beans down on the counter. Her legs felt stiff from sitting for so long, so she stood up and walked over to the mantle. She gazed at the few framed photos that she hadn't packed away yet. One in particular caught her eye - it was a picture of her and Conroy from their first Christmas together. They were smiling, both with flushed cheeks from the cold, standing in front of a beautifully lit Christmas tree lot. Conroy's grin stretched from ear to ear as he wore that same silly Santa hat, and she was captured mid-laugh, radiating pure joy.

With a trembling finger, she traced the outline of the frame and felt a lump growing in her throat. The urge to cry was strong, but no tears came. They hadn't for a long time. She had reached a point where she was numb, surrounded by a cloak of emptiness that seemed to consume her whole.

Without even realizing it, she found her fingers curling around the dusty edges of the old photo box. It was tucked away in the dark depths of the closet, hidden like a painful secret she couldn't bear to look at. But something compelled her to bring it out and face it, despite the heavy weight in her chest that seemed to grow with each step. As she settled back onto the familiar couch, the box perched on her lap like a fragile treasure, she felt a pang of hesitation creeping in. Did she truly want to delve into these memories? To immerse herself in the bittersweet moments they had captured together, now forever frozen in time? Was she prepared to confront the life they had carefully built and cherished together, now cruelly shattered before her very eyes?

But something in her needed to. Needed to remember.

Her hands quivered as she lifted the lid of the dusty box and unearthed a stack of faded photographs. They were from their carefree days, when they were just two young lovers wrapped up in each other's arms. She traced her finger over a picture of them at a county fair, his strong arm around her waist and her head tilted back in laughter. In the background, a giant stuffed bear towered over them, a prize won by her devoted partner. A bittersweet smile tugged at her lips as she remembered those innocent times

Then came the holidays, each one documented with a new batch of photos. They always looked so happy and carefree in them - smiling faces, silly poses, bundled up against the cold as they stood outside in the snow. She couldn't help but linger on a photo from a few Christmases back, where they were both wearing matching ugly sweaters. Conroy had his arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders, looking happier than ever with his eyes crinkled at the edges in that endearing way that always melted her heart.

And then caqme the funeral. Conroy's funeral.

The memory hit her like a tidal wave, causing her to set down the photos and gasp for air. She had been avoiding thinking about that day, dreading the moment when she would have to relive it all over again. The memory of watching them lower him into the ground, while she stood there frozen, unable to accept that he was truly gone, was too painful to bear

The sky had been a thick, heavy blanket of grey since dawn, mirroring the weight in her chest as she stood at the graveside. The rain soaked through her black dress and made her hair cling to her face. She was surrounded by people, but their words felt like empty echoes, unable to penetrate the wall of grief around her. His friends hugged each other and cried, while his family stood stoically, trying to hold back tears. But she couldn't hold them back any longer. As the world moved on, hers remained frozen in this moment, unable to comprehend the loss of the man she loved.

The rain poured down, soaking through her thin coat and seeping into her bones. She couldn't stop shivering as she stood in front of the gravesite, surrounded by somber faces and rows of flags marking the final resting place of soldiers. When they handed her the folded flag, representing his service and sacrifice, she felt her knees weaken. She clutched it to her chest, desperately holding onto a piece of him, but the flag couldn't bring back the man she loved

It had been months since the funeral, but the grief showed no signs of fading. In fact, it seemed to have taken root within her, a permanent weight reminding her that life would never be as it once was.

Lizabeth brushed at her damp eyes, only now realizing that tears had started to spill over. She allowed them to flow freely, her body trembling with suppressed cries as she held onto the picture of them taken during their last Christmas together. She didn't bother trying to stop the tears; it would be pointless anyway.

Time seemed to stretch on forever as the tears flowed, draining her of any remaining energy. She carefully returned the photo to its place in the box and closed it with a soft touch, hoping to preserve the memories for another day when she might be more resilient.

But strength was not something she currently possessed. Instead, she felt adrift and uncertain.

Her eyes flickered to the television, where a never-ending loop of a cheesy Christmas movie played. As she watched a family exchange gifts and laugh around a glowing tree, a sharp pang of loneliness pierced her heart. She couldn't bear to answer her phone anymore, knowing it would be another well-meaning friend or family member begging her to come home for the holidays. The messages from her mom were getting more desperate with each missed call, pleading for her to attend Christmas dinner tomorrow.

She hadn't replied. The idea of having to confront her family and put on a facade of being fine, when she was anything but, was overwhelming. She wasn't prepared for it.

A small part of her questioned if she would ever be ready.

Celebrating Christmas without Conroy seemed unfathomable, like trying to solve a puzzle without its most crucial piece. Nothing felt right, and there was no way to make it better. The traditions and memories they had created together now served as constant reminders of what she had lost.

She sank deeper into the cushions of the couch, her gaze fixed on the flickering lights on the television screen. A strange feeling of disconnection washed over her, numbing her senses.

With a heavy sigh, she reached out for the can of cold beans once more and took a small bite. The metallic and flavorless taste didn't bother her; nothing really did in that moment.