WARNING: Major spoilers for season 3!

Okay, so I just finished season 3 today, and I admit it, I sobbed like a baby when Matthew died. I already knew it was going to happen (yes, I looked up Downton Abbey spoilers on the Internet when I first started watching the show *ducks head in shame*), but I was still so heartbroken over it. So I knew I had to write this.

It's set seven years after Matthew died, and from Mary's POV. Just a quick oneshot about how Mary learns to move on without Matthew. It opens with a conversation between Mary and her mother, and ends with a brief scene between Mary and her son, George.

Knocking lightly, I slip inside my mother's room. "You wanted to see me, Mama?" I say, trying to keep my voice pleasant.

"Oh, yes. Come in and sit down, dear." Mama finishes adjusting her necklace and turns away from the mirror to face me.

Apprehensive, I lower myself onto the side of her bed. I already know the conversation that's coming; I've been through it many times before in these past few years. It varies between Mama, Edith, Granny, Cousin Isobel, and on occasion Anna.

"Sweetheart, it's been seven years," she says gently.

I blink away another onslaught of tears. Yesterday was the seven-year anniversary of Matthew's death, as well as little George's birthday. My poor baby is old enough now to understand about how his papa died. I find it so unfair that George's birthday is both a day of mourning and celebration. He'll carry that with him all his life.

Mama tilts her head, fixing me with that sympathetic look of hers. "You and Matthew were so devoted to each other."

I breathe in deeply. Here it comes.

"But you know he would want you to be happy. He'd want you to find love again," Mama says.

I nod. I've been able to get away for several months now without having to hear one of these speeches. I suppose I should give some kind of explanation. "That's the thing, Mama. I've tried, really I have," I say, playing with my pearl necklace. "I know why you invite special guests for dinner; you want me to take in interest in one."

She looks down briefly, a look of guilt on her face. "Your father and I just want the best for you."

"Don't feel bad," I say, my brow furrowing as I try to find words to continue. "I know you do. And I've done my best to be kind and welcoming to them, and try to take an interest, but I have not found myself in love with anyone since Matthew. I don't think I ever will be, and it's not for lack of trying."

When Mama looks up, there are tears shining in her eyes. "It's just you're still young, Mary. Young enough to marry again and find love. You can't waste your life pining over Matthew."

I drop my necklace. "I'm not pining over Matthew," I say sternly. "I miss him every day, but that doesn't mean I'm not happy. And I do have love. I love George more than anything. Perhaps I will never again love romantically, but a mother's love is just as strong as romantic love. George is all I need right now."

Mama sighs, her lips pursed. "You do know that Matthew would want you to be happy," she repeats.

I lean forward and clasp her hands. Tears pool in the back of my eyes, and I blink furiously to keep them away. Mama doesn't realize they're tears of joy, not sadness. How do I explain this to her? How do I convey that I have found happiness?

"Mama, every day I miss Matthew, but I am also thankful for George every day," I say, proud that my voice doesn't shake. "He is my joy in life; he is what makes me find the strength to get up and face each day. I've learned to live without Matthew because I've had George to take care of and love instead. If I can kiss my son good night every day for the rest of my life, I will die happy."

"I hope you realize he'll eventually grow up and maybe even move out, so that feat might not be possible," Mama says lightly, but I think she's understood what I mean.

I release my hold on her hands. "It's just a turn of phrase," I say with fake exasperation. "My point is, I don't need a man in my life. I am happy. Truly."

She slowly gets up. "I just wanted to make sure, darling. You're not very open with your feelings, so it's hard to tell what you're going through sometimes. But I want you to know that your father and I are so very proud of the way you've managed."

"Thank you," I say. This time, my voice does quiver a little.

She kisses the top of my forehead, making me feel like a little girl again––but in a good way, not a bad way. "Even if you never marry again," she says, "as long as you are happy, we will be happy for you."

"Good," I say, "because I am terribly happy just the way I am."

My thoughts churn as I leave her room and head to George's playroom. What I said to Mama was the absolute truth. There are countless moments where my heart has filled up with love for my son, and I feel so happy and blessed to have him. I treasure every minute with him, and he gives me all the happiness I need.

Of course, I have times where I bury my face in my pillow and sob for Matthew. How could I not? Little things trigger my memories so easily. Once, I heard someone say "as nice as nice can be" during a conversation, and I had to excuse myself for a moment to wipe my tears away with my handkerchief.

If I were alone, I don't think I would've been able to cope with the grief at all. Especially in the first few months after Matthew's death. But I wasn't alone, I had George. He wasn't just a responsibility I had to take care of; he was my son and all I had left of Matthew. And so I loved him as hard as I possibly could. Matthew once told me, "I didn't think it was possible to love as much as I love you." That's how I love my little George now.

I've reached his playroom now. Sliding the door open, take a step in. "How's my little boy doing?" I ask cheerfully.

"Look, Mama!" George points to his stack of blocks. "I built a house!"

"Ah, did you?" I walk over to him and swoop him into my arms. Now seven years old, he's gotten considerably bigger than when he was a toddler. Sometimes, when he's in a mood, he doesn't even like being held. But I take every opportunity I have to hold him in my arms. Life is short and precious, as both Sybil and Matthew's deaths taught me.

"What a nice house it is," I say, looking down at the blocks. He's done quite a detailed job on making it; there's two floors and separate rooms. "My, my. You're so good at this, soon your houses will be even finer than Downton Abbey itself!"

He laughs at that, and I set him down. "Would you like to read a story before dinner?" I ask. "Go pick out one of your picture books."

We settle into the rocking chair in the corner of the room, and after I've finished the story he snuggles in my arms. "Mama?"

"Yes, darling?" I smooth over his blond hair, which is so like Matthew's .

"Will you tell me more about Papa? I want to know what he was like."

I swallow. It's both painful and comforting when George asks me for stories about Matthew. He's done so a few times, as he's been getting older. "Your father was the most wonderful man I ever knew," I say, still playing with his hair. "He could cheer someone up just by smiling at them."

"Like me?"

I laugh. I always tell George that he's what makes me happy. I suppose I spoil him, but I want the best possible childhood for him. "Yes, you're a lot like him."

"What else?"

"Your papa was a hero," I say, becoming serious again. "Did you know he fought in the war? He was very brave. He got hurt and couldn't walk for a while. But he never gave up, and he ended up getting better."

"Do you miss him?" George asks curiously, turning up to face me. "Because Sybbie said that her papa gets sad a lot. Only you're always happy."

I kiss his curly hair. "That's because you make me happy, little man. I miss your papa very much, but there's nothing we can do to bring him back. You are what's most important to me."

He grins at last, and it lights up his chubby little face. "I love you, Mama."

Those sweet words. Those words are what heals my heart when it feels permanently broken. "I love you too, darling. Let's go down to dinner now. Granny will want to spend some time with her favorite grandson," I say. Mama dotes on George and Sybil more than anything.

As we walk down to dinner, his hand in mine, my heart feels lighter. I haven't just survived Matthew's death, I've managed to live in spite of it. I remember when he said, "You're lived your life, and I've lived mine. Now it's time we live them together."

Yes, Matthew would want me to live life even without him. And right now, I know that I have all I'll ever need in my hand. Little George has helped me to find a way to be happy.

By the way, part of the reason I wrote this is because of the fact that there's going to be a new love interest for Mary in season 4. This makes me mad, because I can't bear the idea of Mary falling in love again just six months after the epic love story between her and Matthew. That's why I wanted to write this, to show that she can be happy without having a man in her life.

Also, I wrote this all in one sitting right after watching the season 3 finale and I am still an emotional wreck. So if the story seems jumbled together or ridiculously sentimental, that would be my fault, lol. However, I hope you have time to leave a review. Constructive criticism is welcome, as always.