My Mother died yesterday.
It wasn't unexpected. She had cancer. After a long and painful battle, she finally gave up. She was only 44.
I was with her when she died. As I sat there, stroking her hand and staring into her fading eyes, memories came flooding back to me. A lifetime of moments with the bravest, strongest woman I've ever met.
Things were never easy. I loved my Mom dearly, but she was never normal. Sometimes, she would trail off in the middle of a sentence, her eyes glazing over as she slowly slipped away from me. Sometimes, one look at me could break her. One second she'd be fine, the next second she'd be sobbing uncontrollably. I blamed myself for that sometimes. I look exactly like my Father.
Despite our troubles, I loved her. I still do. As a teenager, I would lash out about everything. People stared at me when I was in public. I could hear the whispers everywhere I went. Many of the girlfriends I had only wanted me for my name, for my Father's history, It was a frustrating way to grow up, famous for something I had no part in. There were days when I did nothing but snap at her.
But my Mom was there for me, always. Through every heartbreak, through every frustrating day, she was there. She didn't always know what to say. But she always knew what to do. I can't count how many times I would go into my room after a tiring day and find her photo album sitting on my pillow. She didn't need to say anything. I knew what she wanted me to remember. My Father died for me. As I looked at pictures of his smiling face, so strong despite his difficult life, I felt myself grow a little stronger.
My Father is with me. He always has been. Sometimes I can feel his presence with me. My Mother's as well now. I still can't believe she's dead. For some reason, I felt like she would always be here. I still can't comprehend the fact that my best friend is gone.
I'm not alone though. There's someone with me. Her name is Ella. I love her.
She's not quiet like my Mother was. Ella is loud, and bright, and filled with life. But she has her quiet moments. After I told her about my Mom, she didn't say a word. She just held me. It was what I needed. I didn't need words, I needed Ella. I always will.
I feel empty now, without her. But she's not in any pain anymore. The pain of her cancer, and also the pain of losing my Father. She never got over his death. They're together again now. That's what I keep trying to tell myself. She's finally free.
I sat with her while she died. I talked to her, told her I loved her and that everything would be okay. She didn't hear me though. She stared at the ceiling, her eyes glazed over. That alone was enough to break my heart. She looked so frail and sad lying there in the hospital bed.
But right before she died, I saw something in her eyes. A tiny spark. She took a deep, rattling breath and whispered:
"I love you Finnick."
And then, she died.
For some reason, I don't think she was talking to me.
-Finnick Odair the second.