What's the hardest part of dealing with grief?
Marco isn't sure.
Some would say, after losing a person. It's coming to terms with that. Accepting it, and moving on.
He might agree somewhat, but he would also beg to differ on the details.
Acceptance wasn't the hardest part. Far from it.
The hardest part, he thinks, is waking up to a cold bed.
His hands creep, brain fogged by sleep, to wrap his arms around a body that isn't there.
(Sometimes, he finds a pillow. It can't compare.)
The hardest part, he thinks, is when he's doing something. And then he thinks, let's invite him to do this, too.
And let's tell him about that thing he's seen. About the plans he's made for next weekend.
But he is gone. There's no-one to tell. And he is left left with that same gut punch feeling all over again, as it really sinks in, he's gone, he's gone and won't ever come back.
(Sometimes, he catches himself calling his name to ask something. No-one answers.)
The hardest part, is talking about them. He'll be having a conversation, people are laughing and telling stories, swapping gossip.
And then someone says their name, and the room goes silent. The person who said it goes quiet, awkwardly bowing out.
Whatever good mood had been dredged up is gone, replaced with a somber sadness.
(Sometimes, Marco hears the others talk about Ace. But never when they think he can hear.)