In Bloom

Chapter 6: First Person

I wasn’t expecting to see Mrs. LeBlanc today. Just the sight of her at the market had sent a wave of emotion through me, though not the overwhelming sadness it used to be. She spotted us before I could even process what to do, and before I knew it, Amara was racing up to her, arms wide open, that sweet grin lighting up her face.

"Grandma!" Amara called, her little curls bouncing as she threw herself into Mrs. LeBlanc’s embrace.

I stood back for a moment, watching them together. There was something healing about it—seeing the two of them, still connected. Mrs. LeBlanc knelt down to Amara’s height, her hand gently stroking her cheek. “Mon petit ange,” she whispered, kissing her on the forehead, “you’re starting to look just like your daddy.”

Those words wrapped around my heart. The first time I’d heard anyone say that, it had broken me. Seeing Daniel in Amara had felt like too much—like the universe was playing a cruel joke, giving me the person I loved in pieces, but never whole. But today... today it felt different. It wasn’t grief pulling at my chest; it was something softer. Something closer to warmth.

Mrs. LeBlanc stood, pulling me into a hug, and for the first time in years, I hugged her back without reservation. “Isla, it’s so good to see you,” she said, her voice filled with that familiar motherly warmth. “It’s been too long.”

“I know,” I said, smiling gently. “It’s been... hard.”

Her eyes softened. She knew. She had felt it too, the absence of Daniel hanging in the air, threading through every moment. But somehow, her presence didn’t make it worse. It made it better. We stood there, talking about little things—Amara, the weather, the market—but beneath it all was the unspoken bond of shared grief.

After a while, we found a bench near the exit and sat down, Amara playing with her doll nearby. Mrs. LeBlanc reached over, taking my hand. “I’m glad you’re here, Isla. You’ve been strong for Amara, and I see how much you love her. But... I want to make sure you know it’s okay to love yourself, too. To live again.”

I looked at her, not sure what to say. She had said it before—Daniel’s family had always been supportive, always pushing me to keep living, even after he was gone. But this time, it didn’t feel like pressure. It felt like permission.

She smiled gently, as if reading my mind. “You don’t have to carry the weight of grief alone, you know. You’ve got people who love you, people who want to see you happy. Daniel would want that too.”

I nodded, but my mind drifted back to Daniel. His laugh, his warmth, the way he’d always pull me into his arms when life got too heavy. That kind of love didn’t just go away. It lingered, even after someone was gone. And yet... here I was, still standing. Still breathing. Still living.

“Healing doesn’t mean forgetting,” Mrs. LeBlanc continued, her voice soft but firm. “It means carrying their memory with you, but also finding room in your heart for more. There’s no timeline for it, but it will happen. And when it does, don’t be afraid of it.”

Before I could respond, Amara ran over with a handful of daisies she’d picked from the grass. “Look, Mama! Flowers for Grandma and for you!” Her little hands pushed the flowers toward us, her smile as bright as the sun.

We both laughed, accepting the flowers as if they were priceless treasures. And in a way, they were. Simple gestures, small moments—these were the things that were keeping me going. The things that were slowly pulling me out of the fog.

Mrs. LeBlanc stood up, smoothing her skirt. “I should get going, but don’t be a stranger, okay? Amara needs to know her grandma—and her daddy’s side of the family. And so do you.”