Maybe that was the benefit of a small town. The sheriff pulled me in for a hug. He’d heard from the non-emergency call and decided to come with. He told me to swing by the tiki bar later, that he’d tell Bradley to have a drink waiting for me.
I didn’t go.
I sat in that empty house and listened to the new silence.
I was silent when I cried that night too.
The night after.
The night after that.
Complete quiet except for the rhythm of my breathing and the rhythm of the waves.
We worked together to get me through those hard days.
Losing my grandmother was like losing my life. She’d been both of my parents for so long. When they’d passed, she’d stepped in.
She’d always stepped in, even when they’d still been there.
Losing her was bigger, more detrimental, and much more heart wrenching.
I’d planned for it all but I couldn’t plan for the pain and for the loss of myself.
So many gifts came over those next few days. Flowers and more flowers and pies and food, as if I wanted to eat and have a nice-smelling house.
I set it all in the house next to the urn I had to hold on to until the funeral.
I ignored calls and the doorbell ringing until that day.
It was the day I had to pull on my big girl dress and face the music.
The world still turned and grandma was gone even if I didn’t want her to be.
The funeral home was small and dark. It was not a place my grandmother would have ever enjoyed. I didn't enjoy it either, not with the fabric of the wooden chairs yellowed and worn like so many people had come to say goodbye to their loved ones and sat in those same spots.
So much pain.
So much death.
Over the past few days, a beating had started in my soul. Angry. Sad. If you could imagine a drum of death and darkness, that was exactly how it sounded. Sometimes the thump was so roaring, it sounded just like thunder, so loud in my ears I couldn't hear anything else. Maybe it was my heart.
It went up and down, up and down like the ocean, like my breath.
“Morina.” Bradley’s hand on my shoulder made me jump. He yanked it away and winced. “Sorry.”
“No, no.” I shook my head to try to right myself. “It’s fine. I’m just on edge today.”
“As you should be. It’s a hard burden to carry yourself,” he blurted out and then immediately followed up with, “I mean, not by yourself. We’re all here.”
“Of course you are.” I patted his back and kissed him on the cheek. His kind eyes searched my face. Bradley would have provided me comfort any other day, his muscular frame always dwarfing mine and making me feel protected. Today, though, no one could protect me from the grief.
He hesitated from saying anything more and I squinted at his awkwardness. “Don’t tiptoe, Bradley. It was never your strong suit.”
He sighed but his shoulders relaxed a little. “It’s a hell of a day, Mo. Everyone’s going to walk on eggshells around you.”
I turned and found the whole town piling into the funeral home. “Don’t I know it,” I mumbled.
I gripped my bracelets, one a deep, earthy green color with spots of bold red. Bloodstone for courage and bravery. I wore another made of howlite for patience and compassion. I’d also slid a rose quartz crystal in my black dress’s pocket. I would grip it when I needed the confidence and calm that I surely wouldn’t feel today.