Total Eclipse of the Hart

Gone

Welcome! :)

Personal Story: Season five of Grey's Anatomy. It's going downhill.

Quote: "If you don't get out of the box you were raised in, you won't understand how much bigger the world is." -Angelina Jolie

Advice: Do it for the Vine. (Did I really just...?)

Fact: There are twice as many suicides in America than homicides. RIP to Leelah Alcorn, a transgender female who took her life a short time ago due to oppression from her family. I hope you've found true happiness, I'm so sorry the world wasn't ready for you, we all love and miss you.

On a lighter note, let's continue.

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It had been nine days exactly since I had visited my mother. Only nine days. As I stumbled into the kitchen, Julie is already there, the paper in front of her. She looks distraught, upset. Her hair is sloppily pulled back, in her purple bathrobe I had given her a couple months ago. She rises when she sees me, wrapping her arms around me and guiding me to a chair.

"Hannah, I am so, so sorry." She says softly, holding my hand.

"Why?" I ask stupidly, trying to stay ignorant so I don't have to face reality.

"Han," She says, choking up, "She's gone." She finishes, sliding the obituary section of the paper towards me. I glance at it, not wanting to confirm what she is saying. I scan the pictures, my eyes stopping when I see my mother's name. My breathing quickens, I can feel myself about to have a panic attack as my eyes pool and the room violently sways.

"Hannah!" Julie shouts to me, grabbing me as I crumple onto the floor. I curl into myself, wishing myself to not exist. She rubs my back, unsure of what to do. Why can't I just cry for a few days? Why do I have to have an attack? I ask myself, my hands shaking. I can feel my throat closing as I refuse to calm down.

"Honey, you need some water," Julie tells me, quickly grabbing my water bottle and an ice pack. She wraps the ice pack in a towel, placing it on the back of my neck as she hands me the water. I chug the water until I choke, spewing out the water in an effort to clear my airways.

"Hannah, please, breathe." She says, trying in vain to soothe me. I take short breaths, my body shaking. I can't do this. I'm not good with death, or dying, or whatever. Death is too permanent for me, it always fucks me over.

"Would you like to see the picture? It's a lovely one, your mom looks great in it," She tells me. I nod quickly, needing to see her. She shows me the photo, and I pick my head up, marvelling at my mother. She looked so...happy. Happy. I stare at it, not thinking.

"I wasn't ready." I said calmly, glancing at Julie's soulful eyes.

"I know, babe, I know. You're never going to be ready." She says, even though that really didn't cheer me up.

"I want to go to the wake." I say, standing up shakily.

"Hanna-" She starts to say.

"Julie, my mother's dead, I want to see her."

"Hannah, I hate to say this, but, well, you're not invited. They'll throw you out and cause a scene. I don't know your mother, but I have to imagine she wouldn't want that."

I know she's right, but life is hitting me like a little bitch right now. I'm surprised I'm this upset, I was the one that had severed the ties with my family. I mean, yes, she was my mom, but she was the one who kicked me out, who shunned me, who forced me to church retreat after church retreat. She caused the psychological issues I had to attend years of therapy for...but she was my mother. And now she's my dead mother. Dead.

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"Jesus, your mom died before the incident?" Dr. Isabelle asks me, her voice filling with pity.

"Yeah. It didn't help me at all," I respond, looking down at my sneakers.

"Wow. You've been through hell." She states, scribbling furiously into the writing pad.

"I guess I have..." I reply, looking up from my navy canvas shoes.

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Zara must have written the obituary for my mother. It was short and concise, with few details about her life. Of course, private wake and funeral. I read the sentence about her early life and my grandparents, and it mentions my dad and sister. Then it ends. It says she lost her battle to Parkinson's, and then it just...ends. No mention of a second daughter. Why am I so surprised? My family made it clear they disowned me. I can feel Julie's gaze on me, assessing whether I was emotionally stable or not. I glance up at her, staring at her.

"I'm fine." I say. She nods, leaning against the stove. She steps into the bedroom, and I hear her talking softly on the phone.

I hear a gentle knock on the door, but I stay on my couch, wrapped in my blanket. Julie answers, saying hi and talking in a low murmur. A minute later, I feel a hand on my leg.

"Hey, Han. We're here for you." Mamrie says to me, easing down on the couch and giving me a hug. I hug her back, leaning into her and feeling comforted. She rubs my back, letting me bury my face in her shoulder. Grace sits on the other side of me, rubbing my shoulders and resting her head on my back. Julie leaves quietly, letting us sit there in the thick, emotion-laced silence.