STAGES
Author: donnatellaMarks
Character: Amy
Spoilers: The season 2 premiere, Great episode or what!?!
Summary: Amy grieves for Colin, Amy POV
Feedback: Umm, yeah. I'll ask for feedback until I get Ephram.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, loads of not mine. If they were mine, Colin wouldn't be dead and Ephram and Bright would be my willing love slaves.
**
3 weeks.
3 weeks, 2 days.
3 weeks, 2 days, and 4 hours.
3 weeks, 2 days, and 4 hours since my world's come crashing down.
He's gone. He's dead and I can't do a thing about it. I get out of bed in the morning, but I' don't really get up. My perception's hazed and I float through the day in a stupor. I'm numb.
I heard Dad talking to Mom about the "Five Stages of Grief." Out of my hearing, of course. If I knew they were talking about my mental state behind my back… Lord knows what would happen. Crazy Amy. Grieving Amy. She might just fly off the handle.
They say I'm stuck in Stage One… Denial. I guess I am. I cant help but look around and expect that Colin's just going to pop out behind a corner and surprise me, that this is just a giant joke that he'll tease me about later after I forgive him for putting me through this hell.
Is that so wrong? I don't want to be believe he's gone? Is it so wrong that I wish the only person I've ever loved were still here, hugging me tightly in those strong arms I love so much?
Loved.
Love.
Loved.
If I don't stop this soon, I'm going to go even crazier.
They all pity me. They think I don't see their glances. Poor Amy.
Summer's not the same without Colin. There is no horseplay by the pool or hassling of the snack bar workers. It's jut me and Bright, without Colin. We were the Dream Team. We were perfect- the perfect football team, and I was the perfect girlfriend. I loved Colin and he loved me and every thing was so much simpler.
His mom asked me to go through his stuff, and I did, dutifully, for I was that perfect girlfriend. So I went through his closet, saw the clothes laid strewn about the room as if he still lived there, that he would be back tonight and we could go out for pizza at Mama Joy's. Tears ran down my cheeks as I folded his favorite sweater, placed in a box that would go to a storage facility in Denver with the rest of his belongings. His parents have decided to empty his room. I don't think they can walk by there every morning and keep themselves from yelling to Colin to 'get up for school' if they don't.
The pictures of him are gone, too. They face down in the wood frames, but they'll return to their original state soon enough. As soon as Mrs. Hart stops bursting into silent tears every times someone even mentions Colin. She shakes in fury, pleads to God for the life of her son back. My parents say she's already made it to Stage Three… 'Bargaining.'
I haven't even gotten to 'Anger'. Poor Amy, still stuck in Denial. Stage One. Why isn't she getting any better? My mom has asked my dad that question everyday since Colin died. She looks at my eyes, blank and off in another world, where Colin's still alive and everything makes sense.
The clock in my room is flashing, but I can't bring myself to reset it. It just doesn't seem worth it. I always loved the concept of time. So little and yet so much of it. But now I find myself wondering where all this time has gone, where Colin has been for the past three weeks.
I forget to breathe sometimes. It's a foreign task, as if I haven't survived on it for the past sixteen years. My chest sears when I forget, lost in my Colin daydream. So I have to stop thinking for a second and start to breathe again.
It happens every few minutes.
My memory of that day has been erased. I can't remember what I wore that day, what I ate for breakfast, what encouraging words I told Colin just before he went in. I don't remember the 6 hours of waiting, or holding Ephram and Bright's hands simultaneously. I don't remember squeezing so hard I almost broke their fingers.
Nope, none of that. All I remember is the look on Dr. Brown's face as he entered the waiting room. He had pull at the hospital, he made sure we were comfortable in the nicest family waiting room, but he came in and sad the two words that sent my life into tailspin.
"Colin's dead."
I heard nothing more. I didn't hear the doctor explaining what happened to Colin, I didn't see the pain in Ephram's eyes when I flinched away from him, I didn't know I slid off the couch and onto the floor, my eyes a torrent of salty tears.
The numbness had just started then. It was welcomed relief from the emotional pain that were Doctor Brown's surgeries.
Dr. Brown.
A red mist clouds my perception when I think of him. How could he just let Colin die? Dr. Brown just doesn't let people die. He doesn't. That's why I chose him in first place. He was willing to do anything to keep the patient alive. Why? Why this time? Why did he not follow through with Colin?
I can't even look at Ephram anymore. I want to, god, I want to, but I just…can't. I can't look into his eyes and see the son of the man who killed Colin.
I guess that's 'Stage 2,' or so says my mother. 'Anger.' She's done her internet research. She knows how teens deal with grief. She researched it on the internet.
I feel like screaming at her every time she starts her psychobabble, like she's a professional, like she's a grief councilor who knows what she's doing. Like I haven't seen the 12 self-help books she bought at Borders the week after Colin died. She doesn't know how do deal with me, and neither does Dad. But at least he's not pushing me into a grieving frenzy. It's like my mom wants me to get through the five stages before school starts so I can start fresh, just without Colin.
Like I won't walk through those halls and remember every conversation, every inside joke, every kiss before class.
But I won't scream at her. No, I'm already screaming inside my head and my ears are ringing from the sound of deafening silence.
So making a scene in public, yelling at Doctor Brown- it's all part of the "grieving process." A year ago, I would have been ashamed with myself and my behavior towards the doctor. But now, I can't bring myself to care.
Stage 3 is next, 'Bargaining.' I couldn't understand why Mrs. Hart kept going to church. She was never a religious woman. It wasn't going to bring Colin back. I knew that then, but I can't help stopping by the church as well, staring at the giant crucifix that adorns the wall. And I can't help pleading with God, crying whenever I see flowers or the collection tin for Colin's memorial fund. Why did He have to take Colin? Why Colin? Why not someone else? What can I do to make this all go away? Why can't we just go back in time to last summer? It would work! I would tell Bright and Colin not to go driving, ask Colin to stay with me to keep me getting too bored. Tell him that I love him, and just sit with him.
It would all be so simple.
Then why isn't it happening? Why God? Why do you desert me now? I've been to church every Sunday, I've never done anything bad, I've never even said your name in vain! Why aren't you listening?
Yep, Stage 3. Mom's happy about it. She says I'm finally 'moving on, dear. It's better if you let go.'
Is it?
I can't tell you how many tears I've cried. If I could measure them, surely it would be hundreds of gallons. My eyes are always bloodshot, always tired. The days pass by and it's almost time to start school again.
6 weeks since Colin died.
School starts again, and I find myself entering Stage 4. The wonderful world of 'Depression.'
I haven't eaten in a while; my skin is sallow and pale. I know my parents worry about me. I still don't care.
I sat through the assembly for Colin, sat through what Doctor Brown said. I felt a flash of anger at the doctor. How dare he come to the assembly at all? My anger deflated quickly though, once he stood up on that podium, next to the giant wreath of flowers around Colin's picture. His voice cracked and tears threatened to spill, but he didn't make angry. He just made me even sadder.
It's still hard to breathe sometimes. The pain's not as paralyzing as it used to be, but it's still there, a dull ache in my chest that I don't think will ever really go away.
Stage 5 is 'Acceptance.' I don't think I'm there yet. I don't want to be there yet. Colin died two months ago and I don't want to be 'over it.'
So I walk these hallowed halls of Everwood High with a hole in my heart, the place that belonged to Colin. I'm empty without him but I don't want to get better.
Am I just crazy?
I see the looks of pity even more these days. Poor Amy. I can hear whispers of the occasional explanation- there are very few people who didn't know Colin in Everwood, who don't know what transpired, but every so often comes a person who doesn't know. I like them. They don't look at me with pity. They just see Amy. Not 'Poor Amy. She had the love of her life and then he died.' But then they hear the whole story and they cast the same compassionate glances.
So I sit and wander through my day. I'm empty. And cold.
Colin warmed my heart and filled my soul.
Now he's gone and I'm just cold.
**
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