Three months later
Grief had a funny way of taking over everything; not just your emotions or the way you looked at things, but in a lot of other ways. Grief made you more tired than you ought to be; a while ago you were used to waking up at a certain time in the morning, but once you've had somebody special taken away from you, your motivation starts to disappear as well. You find the hours just burned away whilst you'd just sit alone in your room, watching the cracks of light shining through the curtains dim as the sunshine disappeared each night. Grief also had a way of making you feel empty, despite the support given from all the people around you. It was like company didn't matter in the slightest if the people you yearned for the most couldn't be there. And never would be again. Grief was a horrible thing to have; I've been told that while it couldn't just go away completely, it could easier to bear over time. How could I believe that, when all it seemed to do was get heavier and harder?
The first month was a big, undignified mess of tearful isolation. Audrey and I scarcely left the one room we shared, opting for one another's company and nothing else. And when we did leave, it was for nothing more than chores or food. And goodness, did we have plenty of food. Bolen had been one of those few, lucky villages that hadn't a high death-toll from the war, but on the rare occasion of a death, the residents could come together like a well-trained army and help the affected families in whatever way they could. Our parents being no exception. The Praams, Leo's parents, brought us creamed-mushroom Periogi soup-enough to last us two meals. The Kerr's brought stewed mutton and apple pastries-one of Ingrid's best desserts. Even the Ottoman's chipped in with a large jar of peach-preserves; and by 'chipped in' I meant Margarite strong-armed her parents into giving her the preserves to give to us. I couldn't bring myself to dislike her right now; even if what Nick said was true, she was here and he wasn't. He ran away when I needed my friends the most.
The second month wasn't any less difficult than the first-but it was a little less lonely. November was when our winter began, and for the farm that was too much work than what we were cut out for. Animals needed to be fed twice a day now since they had no pastures to even out their diets, and as the snow thickened they needed to be kept in their shelters as much as possible. Friends came over more and more often to keep us company, Ms. Slovaka visited two more times to discuss alternatives to a traditional burial, and organize more farmhands to work for a reduced rate until we could set our parents' affairs in order. That proved to take up the most amount of time and effort out of everything.
Since we couldn't even get their ashes, it was up to us to organize some sort of service for them; the first half we held with most of the village in attendance as well as our grandparents and the few friends from their teenhood, still living. The second half was just Audrey and me, in our back-garden, with a box of memories everybody had helped us put together. The box contained written stories of their fondest memories with those who were closest, treasured photographs of them when they were younger, and little momentos they'd picked up over the years. We buried that box as deep as we could possibly dig, and overtop we placed a cherry-tree. Mama always wanted an entire orchid of cherry-trees so that she could sell pies as well as 'boring, old eggs'. Now she finally had one.
When December finally began the weather got colder and our grief a little lighter. It became easier not to dwell on the things that pained us the most in order to focus on the task at hand. That task of course, being our farm and its' survival through the winter. Every morning we'd bundle ourselves into the thickest winter-coats we had, along with the chunky, hand-knitted scarves, hats and mittens Audrey had made long ago and we'd work as hard as we could to keep every, single animal healthy and happy. Only this time we were leaving at least a little room for some semblance of fun in-between. Sometimes I'd just go out for some walks through the streets, marching across snow-blanketed fields. Sometimes Leo and Ingrid would come over and keep me company. Just small efforts at first, to dip our toes into life outside of grief.
YOU ARE READING
Scarred Roses
RomanceHazel's always tried to do the right thing by her family-sometimes she even succeeds. On the cusp of liberation, Hazel and her sister Audrey are doing all they can to put their past behind them. But what if their past came back somehow? Broken and b...
