HERO SYNDROME

❝It Keeps Moving Forward❞

"Hey kids, why don't you come in. Jordan is cutting the cake and everyone is going to eat it all before you guys get there." Mrs. Stone warned us, popping her head outside.

"Not over my dead body." Jace declared, grabbing my hand and rag dolling me inside. I chuckled at how excited the cake made him. I guess it was the little pleasures in life that brought out the best in us. For Jace it was cake, and his boyish smile.

We all got a slice of cake. I couldn't finish mine, so I gave it to grandpa Stone. When Jace saw, he was highly offended and wouldn't talk to me for all of fifteen minutes. But it wasn't so bad, grandpa Stone was great company.

"You know." Grandpa Stone said as we watched Jace and his older brother Jordan wrestle in front of the rest of the guests. "This is the first time we've gathered as a family since...." He trailed off with a lost stare. It was the first time I had seen the man made of Stone drop his act.

I never thought about it before, but Grandpa Stone lost a granddaughter. Everyone in this room had lost her. Some more than others, but grief isn't measured in blood. It was measured in how much that person impacted you. I think Robin left a pretty big impact on everyone she had ever met. Some spirits were louder than others. No doubt her spirit spoke volumes for those she ever encountered in her short life time.

She left Jace in a wrecked state, and I don't think Grandpa Stone was all that better. I saw the cracks in his mask. I saw the grief and sadness, and I wanted nothing more than to take that away from him. But I knew, more than anyone else, that guilt and grief only leave when you're ready to let go of it. No one could take it away from you. Grief is yours to hold, until you choose to move on.

"I really like your family grandpa Stone. They're good people." I said as a means to compliment him. I don't know if that's what you're supposed to do when someone is grieving. If you're supposed to say something nice to get their mind off of their sadness. But I did and I hoped it worked.

"They're okay." He shrugged in the only way he could. With a smug arrogance to it all. "I raised some good kids." He said. "And they raised good kids themselves. I think that's why we were all shocked."

"It's no one's fault." I said my voice coming out small and vulnerable. "Mental illness doesn't come with a certain demographic or a public face to go by. Successful people have it, poor people have it, girls have it, boys do too. It doesn't discriminate against pigment of skin, religion, or sexual orientation. It's just something that people have and sometimes we don't know why they have them. It's a vast mystery."

"You know," He smiled emptily, "I kept telling that to my son and his wife when it all happened. That it's no one's fault, life is cruel in that way. But I don't know, it's easier to say it's not your fault than to actually feel it."

"But it's not. It's not anyone's fault. These things happen and when they do we have to learn how to heal and move on because that's the thing about life. It keeps moving forward and never looks back, and we have to do the same."

"You're a smart girl." The older Stone smiled, ruffling my hair. I chuckled and fixed my hair when he was finished.

"Thank you-"

"So why aren't you with my grandson yet? The boy speaks highly of you." He interrupted me, taking me by surprise.

"Uh..." I trailed off, feeling the back of my neck burn up. "W-what?" I stammered nervously.

"I see the way you look at him." The old man smirked like a playboy. "Ain't much different from the way he looks at you. But you kids are too careful and coy with your feelings these days. If you don't do something soon, you'll be dancing the heartbreak tango." He guffawed, garnering the attention of a few guests. I didn't need a mirror to know that my face was beet red.