One-shot demonstrating how the Mellarks are dealing with a death in the family. Reviews are greatly appreciated.
A wise man once said that falling in love was easy, but letting go was the hard part. I never thought it would come down to this. Standing here, with flowers in one hand and cheese buns in another. I kneel down on the grass, wiping the leaves away. Age has taken its toll on my body, I'm not as youthful as I once was. All of my blond hair has turned into snow white strands, but she was beautiful before she died. Katniss was perfect. I swear, every time she smiled she lit up the entire room. I wonder if I did a good job at being her husband and a father to our two beautiful children.
Roses are pretty symbolic and these cheese buns ensure my own personal touch. They are the last pastry I will ever bake.
Another sleepless night, nothing abnormal. The room is cold and I hate that I was sent home. The doctor told me I needed my rest and to come back here, which isn't doing any good. Considering it's only nine in the morning and it's broad daylight out, I won't fall asleep easily. As I paced around my bedroom, memories flooded into my mind, proving too much for me to bear. The emotional pain had taken on a new level, I could feel the tangible hurt where my heart was.
The phone started ringing and once I saw that the call was coming from the hospital, I ran over to pick it up. Regaining my composure, I cleared my throat and pressed the green button to answer it.
"Hello?" I asked.
"Mr. Mellark," he paused, "I'm very sorry to say that your wife will not make it through the night. You are welcome to stay with her until she passes," Dr. Rosenburg broke the news to me, shattering my last petal of hope and utterly obliterating my heart.
Speechless, I hung up the phone and buried my face in my hands. I cannot believe this is happening, I thought. I'm losing my dandelion.
Our souls may be immortal, but our bodies are not.
It all started a few years ago, when she began forgetting simple, tedious things. She always joked around about it. It wasn't until the day she didn't remember who I was that I sought professional medical help. I recalled sitting in the waiting room with her. As I held her hand, she asked me to tell her the story of our wedding. She requested that story more than the rest and it always brought back a smile to her face, which I cherished. Most of the time, her face was emotionless and blank, so to know that for one moment she was reliving an actual event from her life, it brought joy to me also.
Where do I begin? An apology isn't necessary, her death wasn't my fault. A letter? She has plenty of those and poetry tied around the rose stems. The day seems too beautiful for me to be here. It's the first day of spring, new beginnings.
Katniss' condition progressively worsened. Six years had gone by since her diagnosis. The doctors had ruled out any other possible mental illness, mutually agreeing that it was indeed Alzheimer's. Then, she caught pneumonia, which isn't a good predicament in the first place, but for her it made everything complicated. It brought upon us more frequent visits to the emergency room until she was advised to remain in the hospital.
I don't know how to let go of her. All my life, my heart's greatest desire was to spend every moment with her and now she's gone. I can't even look at my children or grandchildren. Our daughter, Prim Rose Mellark-Hawthorne, is due to give birth to her third child in a few weeks. I should be there with her and her family, but I can't face them. Just like I can't ever bake again. The bakery was sold a few months ago, the day after Katniss passed away. I couldn't bear the heaviness and the memories it brought me.
Words don't come as I stare at her tombstone with damp, glossy eyes. It's been seven months and I still can't talk about it. Any sympathy cards I was sent were immediately discarded. She was so young, she should still be here with me. Katniss was only 64, only a few days away from her birthday. It really isn't fair that she was snatched from me like that. Now, I have near nothing to live for. My children are happy, they have their own families. I even made sure that they are financially secure for life.
"I love you. Always and forever, my dandelion," I whisper, kissing the roses and placing them down before me. A familiar ache surges in my veins and in a second, I decide that the fight is no longer worth it.
Prim Rose Mellark's POV
"Daddy," I sob as my husband, Jeff Hawthorne wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a tight embrace.
"Prim, look at me," Jeff lifts my chin to meet his eyes as tears stream down my face, "everything is going to be okay."
"How can you say that? I just lost my mother and now my father too. You don't understand, Jeff. You didn't live with them for twenty two years. I did. They loved each other so much, more than I thought any other human being could ever love another soul. Now, they are both gone. Jeff, my father died of Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy, do you get it now? She meant so much to him. When he lost her, his whole world came crashing down. I tried calling and writing so many times, you know that, but he isolated himself. Shutting himself out from the rest of the world, he died of a broken heart." At those last two words, a fresh wave of tears and racketing sobs came down.
Death doesn't just effect one person. It's a domino effect, a chain reaction that cannot be stopped. It makes living seem almost impossible, but life goes on. When I gave birth to my daughter, I rightly named her in memory of the two most important people in my life.
"First name, K-A-T. Middle, D-A-N-D-E-L-I-O-N - M-E-L-L-A-R-K. Last name, H-A-W-T-H-O-R-N-E."