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Miriam was numb.
She had cried when she heard the news: "We're sorry, Miss Sanchez, but your grandfather has been in a car crash". She cried as her co-worker drove her to the hospital, promising to drop her car off later. She screamed and shouted when the doctor came out of the operating room- "I'm sorry, but there was too much damage"- and confirmed that she was all alone in the world.
Now, a horrible, long week later Miriam was sitting in the church her grandparents had attended. Their church friends mingled with family members and long-time friends. A few co-workers from their old jobs had turned up. People she had never met before, never even heard of before, were approaching her and offering up consolidations.
"He was my best friend throughout high school. I'm so sorry for your loss."
"I was the maid-of-honor at their wedding. I'll be praying for you, dear."
"We grew up together. I'm sorry they left so soon."
She just smiled tightly. Distant relatives came out of the woodworks to attend the funeral. A great-aunt from Seattle was sitting next to her in the pew. Her father's estranged brother was across the aisle with his Jewish wife and kids, all looking very uncomfortable in the Catholic cathedral. A large family of second cousins sat behind her. The youngest was kicking the back of the pew, too young to understand that "this is serious, Billy. Don't cause trouble right now." She didn't care that Billy was kicking the back of her seat, or that Great Aunt Beryl kept patting her hand, or even that Uncle Carlos bothered to show up.
She was just numb.
She clutched her grandmother's gold cross in her left hand, her right hand firmly encased in Aunt Beryl's. Miriam's grandmother had died two years before of pancreas cancer. At the time, Miriam had thought that that would be the most difficult thing she would have to live through. Abuela had raised her since she was two. Abuela had taught her how to read, how to cook, how to decorate cookies. Abuela had been there for her when she got her first period. They both had sat on Miriam's bed for hours as Abuela explained to an eleven-year-old Miri what was happening to her body.
Miriam had been closer to Abuela than Pops. He had tried his best, but the poor man had only had sons, and didn't know what to do with his orphaned granddaughter. He tried, though. He bought her gifts: books, pillows, flowers. He encouraged her to read, and skate, and pursue college. He loved her, he just wasn't good at saying it. Abuela, on the other hand, did not go a day without reminding Miriam that she was loved, and cherished, and wanted. So Miriam thought that Pops' funeral would be easier.
She was wrong.
With Pops gone, she was completely alone. Sure, she had blood relatives. Uncle Carlos, Aunt Beryl, an assortment of cousins, all showed up to support her and mourn the loss of Pops. But they weren't going to stay. They would go back to their respective cities and states, and Miriam would be alone. She wouldn't have a protector, like Pops, or a supporter, like Abuela. She would be completely alone, and she didn't want to be.
The funeral service was over in the blink of an eye. If asked to recall anything about it, Miriam didn't think she could do it. Surly the priest talked about the afterlife, and faith, and similar things. Religion had never been a source of comfort for Miriam, though she knew that both Abuela and Pops had been very religious. They had only missed a handful of masses over the last nineteen years.
Father Lim came up to Miriam after the service. While she had never been very religious, she knew that Father Lim had been a good friend to her grandparents. He had supported them when they first took custody of Miriam, and made sure that they always had someone to talk through their troubles with.
It was plain to see that he missed them, too.
"How are you doing, Miri?" he asked, and the childhood nickname stung, because she wanted it said by a different man.
Her smile was wan. "I'm doing alright, Father. As best as I can."
He grasped her cold hands in his warm ones. "I am here for you, if you need me."
Miriam's smile was a bit more real. "Thank-"
She was shoved aside as Billy and his rowdy siblings streaked past, whooping and hollering towards the desert table.
"William Black, you get back here this instant!"
Her overwhelmed cousin shot her a tense smile, said sorry, then continued to chase after her wild children.
"If you need some peace and quiet during the next few days," Father Lim looked sternly at Billy as he ran by, a cookie clutched in each hand, "I'd suggest a drive up the hills. There is a peaceful overlook area that no one visits, anymore. I sometimes prepare my sermons up there. It might help you center your mind."
"If I get the time, I will. Thank you," she squeezed his hand, gave him a smile that might have been real, then went to mingle with her relatives.
Aunt Beryl told Miriam she was going to stay with her for a week- told, not asked. Uncle Carlos and his family were going to stay for a couple of days at the house that Miriam shared with her grandparents. The rest of the relatives would attend a small get-together later that day before leaving.
The get-together was chaotic in a way that family gatherings always were, though the general mood was somber. People swapped stories about Abuela and Pops, though they were known as Tia Kay and Tio Riko in some stories, and Cousin Kara and Cousin Enrique in others. Some of the stories inspired laughter. Others inspired tears and quivering chins. All of the stories tugged on Miriam's heartstrings, though she didn't let emotion show.
Finally the day was over. Uncle Carlos drove her back to the house, which felt more like a tomb than a home. It was a beautifully decorated house. Abuela had an eye for details and color, and Pops was good with repairing nearly everything. It had been a big house for a young Pops and Abuela, with four bedrooms and a bonus room. After they had their two sons, the house felt more like a home. Then the boys had grown up and moved away and the house had been too big, again. Abuela and Pops had been looking at condos in Florida the day they learned that their oldest son and daughter-in-law had died in a plane crash. They gave up their dreams of living on the Florida coast and moved Miriam into their house.
There were three rooms upstairs, along with the bonus room. The master bedroom was left undisturbed. Aunt Beryl would take the upstairs guest bedroom, while Uncle Carlos and his wife Abigail would suffer on the pull-out-bed in the other upstairs bedroom, which had been an office for Pops. Carlos and Abigail's three kids were bunking in the bonus room, and Miriam retained her downstairs bedroom.
Though the house was full, there was a haunting emptiness to it. Miriam spent her nights watching Netflix. She re-watched The Vampire Diaries, the Originals, and Legacies, along with other fantasy-themed shows and movies. The genre was comforting, and a hold-over from her fangirl teenage years.
She had made it through several different fantasy series when her relatives finally left a week later. They all promised to stay in touch, and Carlos' oldest added her on Instagram. Aunt Beryl left enough hand-made lasagna to feed an army, Abigail left a list of phone numbers on the counter- "you can call anytime, darling"- and after that, they were all gone.
Miriam was alone again.
She spent a full day watching Netflix before she gathered the courage to go upstairs to her grandparents' bedroom.
It was untouched since Pops had died, and as such the bed was messy and his muddy work boots were in the corner. The sight made her laugh- it was the first bit of true emotion she had felt in a long time.
She walked around the room, touching picture frames and perfume bottles and trinkets from her grandparents' seventy-plus years on Earth.
An idea started to form in her head, and before she could doubt herself, she went through with it. She grabbed one of her messenger bags, and started to pack. A couple of pictures of her grandparents went in; one was of them young, one of them old, one of them with their sons, one of them with Miriam at her high school graduation. She packed several photographs of her parents, pausing on their wedding picture. She also grabbed a bottle of her grandmother's perfume, along with her grandfather's dog tags. She picked a couple of mementos from her parents: her mother's favorite book and her father's college ring. A couple of candles and a lighter later Miriam was in her car driving to the overlook Father Lim had told her about.
The drive was peaceful. It was late spring, and the air was warm and smelled sweet. As she walked from her parked car to the bench that overlooked the city the wind toyed with her long brown hair. A bird chirped. Father Lim was right, there was a sense of serenity in the air.
She spent a long time just sitting on the bench, gazing at everything and nothing. When twilight came around, She set up a small shrine-like thing on the bench. She knelt in front of it and placed candles around the four items and pictures. She lit the candles, and, feeling incredibly stupid and a little sad, she started to talk.
"Um, hi, Mom, Dad, Abuela, Pops. I don't know if you guys can hear me, or if you're all even in the same place. I know Mom was nondenominational, but we all know that was code for agnostic. I hope you're all together, though." She cleared her throat and looked around, as if the squirrels or birds would call her ridiculous. "I really miss you all. Life⦠just won't be the same without you. I just. . ."
Tears came, then, hot and plenty. And with the tears came emotions so strong all she could do was bend her head and let them wash over her.
She didn't know what time it was once she finally lifted her head. But she had to finish, because she felt like she was actually talking to them, and she didn't want the feeling to go by without taking advantage of it.
"I know guys aren't everything, but please, would you guys send someone to take your place? Someone kind, smart, fun, crazy, I don't care. I just want to love someone the way I know Mom and Dad loved each other and Abuela and Pops loved each other, and I don't think I can get through life without a partner. So just please, please send someone, or send me, I'll do that, too.
"I love and miss you guys, so, so much. But I hope you're at peace. I hope you're having fun and raising a little hell," she laughed and sniffled. She blew out the candles and packed up her things.
She felt better. The crying had been cathartic. Her loneliness wasn't magically fixed, but she felt stronger and more sure-footed, now.
Her good mood lasted up until her car refused to start. She tried everything in her limited bag of tricks, but nothing worked. Her cell phone didn't even work. She waited for half-an-hour, but no other car came. It was becoming clear to her that she'd have to walk if she wanted to sleep in her own bed that night.
Grumbling and cursing under her breath, she shouldered her messenger bag, pocketed her useless phone and keys, and started to walk.
She didn't hear or see the car until it hit her.
AN: So I've finally uploaded a story on this site after literal *years* of reading without an account. Please be gentle: it's my first story and I bruise easily. There won't be much TVD content for a couple of chapters; we're building up to it, lol
Stay safe, y'all! - Whitney
