AN: A sequel to "To Greet the Morning". Didn't think I'd write this, but my mind works in strange ways. I hope you like it.
I won't be posting anything new for a while, I think. My brain needs a break and my life has suddenly become extremely busy. Don't worry, I'll be back in a couple of weeks.
Disclaimer: Not mine. If it were mine, I'd be a genius. And do I look like a genius? No. Not at all. It's all Lewis'.
It has been a year. Only a year? It feels like a lifetime.
A lifetime since I saw their smiles and heard their laugh. A lifetime since the day that changed my life. The day that broke my spirit and tossed it aside like a broken and unwanted toy. A lifetime since the accident.
Accident? Or was it some malicious trick of the Evil One? Was this fated? Was it meant to be? Questions overwhelmed me for a time and I just wanted to die. I just wanted to forget that this ever happened. Why me? Why my family? Why was I left behind?
When I saw their coffins that day, those strong, varnished boxes, I felt as though my life was over. I cried, not because I felt like crying, but because it was expected of me. The emotions I felt ran deeper than mere tears. It felt like I was being crushed under the weight of these emotions. As though my heart was being twisted and torn, and as though my soul was trapped in a prison of grief.
Then something wonderful happened. Something that uplifted and comforted me. I remembered. I remembered. I remembered the rushing water that trickled over the rocks and crevices, the sound of the wind rustling through the trees and dancing in the Dryads' hair, the taste of spring on the tip of my tongue, so warm and tangible, and the feel of the sun on my face. I remembered Narnia, and, more importantly, I remembered him. My comforter, my saviour - Aslan.
Warmer than the sun's rays, more vibrant than the greenest grass, he whispered in my ear words of love and sympathy. I wanted to hit him, to hate him, to make him feel a fraction of the agony that twisted and wrenched my heart... but I couldn't. He was so good and so noble. Too good and too noble to bother with someone like me, the one who betrayed him and Narnia in more ways then Edmund ever did. Yes, I remember Edmund's betrayal now.
He forgave Edmund, just as he forgave me that day of the funeral. As I remembered Narnia, I remembered his love and unfailing mercy. The mercy and love that enveloped me and made me feel as though everything would be fine - eventually.
As I stand before these five headstones, these five, tidy headstones, I smile and whisper words of love I hope they hear.
"I'm – happy, Mum, and I miss you."
"I'm strong, Dad, and I love you."
"Don't forget me, Peter, and please forgive me for not listening. I love you."
"Lucy, dear heart, for you I wake each morning striving to do my best. You'll never know how much I miss you."
I pause. Somehow Edmund's is the hardest words to whisper. He was always so different to Peter and Lucy. Full of mischief and fun as a child, but of a more serious, brooding nature as he grew older. He understood most of all, I think, the trouble I faced fitting in with the "real world".
"I – love – you, Edmund," I sob out. Darn the tears that fall. I'm supposed to be strong. " Forgive me, please."
My heart was buried with my family that day, and still remains under the green sod. It will never go to another. My soul, however, is happy. Happy in the knowledge that someday - someday soon - I will be with Aslan and my family again. Never more to be parted.
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