hariana drabbles

029

- Violet

Author: Me (2015)
Summary: Following a traumatic event, Ariana's sanity begins to deteriorate and her faithful husband Harry watches her become attached to a plant as she learns to cope.

-

It started in late November when Luna, our Maltese pup, was put down due to long-term health issues. He'd been suffering for a long time, and it had become hard on the both of us to watch him lie almost lifeless in his bed knowing he was in pain. 

Luna was a part of our family and had been since we rescued him three years ago. Even then, Luna wasn't in a good shape and spent most of her early life with us at the vet than at home. 

It was a conscious decision that Ariana and I made together to have him be put down. We decided that Luna didn't deserve to suffer and ethical issues aside, Luna would be in less pain being put down through the veterinarian's aid than the disease currently destroying his body.

For the both of us, Luna had become more than just a pet. He became a sign of hope, a part of our life and our family as the potential for something greater. Luna was like the child we failed to have. We cared for him and raised him, and made sure he got by alright. Not that puppies needed much human help, but we gave him love and so much of it.

Ariana loved Luna, possibly more than I ever could. Her motherly instinct always surfaced when she looked after Luna while I was on the road with the boys. I stood by her when she lost her chance the first time, and when she lost her chance then when Luna died. It seemed silly, to talk about a puppy as if it were our child, but it didn't matter to the both of us. We cared about Luna like he was our own. Watching through the glass as Luna was put down, his tired eyes finally at rest as he released his last breath, I held her close to me while she cried– while I cried.

We were both affected the day we found Luna but that day in November when we lost Luna, something else changed within Ariana. I couldn't see it then, but now I do as she tends to the small pot of viola's in our living room.

She calls it Violet, a suitable name for the violet coloured flower it bloomed. The frost of February had long since past, and she made sure that Violet was well acknowledged by her green thumb. March was still quite cold, like the space between Ariana and I as she focused her attention on Violet.

I stand by the fireplace, the warmth of its fire blanketing me from the cold temperature of our home. She sits with Violet and talks to it like it were a person. She's curled up in a thick jumper and leggings, holding the plant as she gives it love and her care she's been giving it since November.

I can't seem to get to her, no matter how hard I tried. The therapist said it was her way of coping. The miscarriage, losing Luna, it all did a number on her mind. 

"She's going to avoid attachment first, but once she finds something to attach to she won't be able to detach herself. It may be the case that her only happiness will come from being the mother she should have been." I recall our therapist saying when we arrived at our appointment with Violet.

She stares at Violet with a spark of life behind her eyes. She laughs, she smiles, and she carries lighthearted conversations with Violet; things she did not do with me. I became a ghost to her. When acknowledges me, it's usually because I pry Violet away from her and she complains.

I'm hurting as well, but I try to keep a positive mind for the both of us. I know she doesn't mean to be distant. I know she's hurting still too.

I move away from the fireplace this time and I approach her again.

"You've been very good Violet. You're drinking your water and getting your sunlight. Mommy's so proud of you Violet." She coos as she fiddles with its petals, her eyes shining with happiness as she does so.

"Daddy's proud of you too Violet." I play along.

I settle down next to her and reach out for her. She looks to me and doesn't say a thing as she settles into the space I offer her. Her head comes to rest against my chest while her legs cover my own. Violet is in her hands, but she puts Violet in her lap as she looks up at me.

"Harry, when the weather starts becoming warmer we will have to move Violet into the front Garden with the rest of them." She explains. "Violet will need the space in order to grow."

I nod, "Alright my love, just remind me when it's time."

"Okay," She grins, "I love you."

I almost scoff playfully but I didn't want to upset her. Instead I basked in the rare moment of her saying those three words and repeated them in my mind before saying them back.

"I love you too. You know I'll always be here for you."

"I know. You're always there by the fireplace if I need you." She smiles and adds, "If Violet needs you."

It was often saddening to see her invest her time in a small plant. To see her be a mother to a plant and be reminded of all the times I failed her in that prospect of life. I urged myself to remember that it would only be for a little while and that our lives weren't over because we'd lost so many times. It's those losses that pave the way to us winning– what game exactly, or what prize, it's unclear. 

But I want her to be happy. I want to be happy. I want us to be okay. 

That's what we were then, as we sat together with Violet, and in the future too when we finally were able to hold our child for the first time after many years of waiting.