Death, burial, miscarriage tw. Proceed with caution.
It had been a few weeks, but she had decided she was ready. She needed the closure somehow. She was assured that it would make it a little easier if she was able to say goodbye.
There wasn't anything to bury, not in the traditional sense anyway. It had been so sudden and quick and her life was at such a risk that everything had been focused on her that anything there may have been left to bury was gone. She wasn't sure if that made it harder, as she was strangely used to saying goodbye to people she couldn't bury.
She had decided to plant a tree. It had been a tradition in 13 to plant a tree when a loved one passed away. There were two separate memorial groves that were not allowed to have any trees removed- one for the tributes and one for everyone else. Sometimes the ashes were buried with the trees, sometimes they weren't. It depended on the family. There were four trees in 7 she had been present at the planting of, but only one she could distinctly remember- the tree in honor of her District partner. The other three were planted for her family, but she had been so distraught, so sick with grief, she couldn't remember.
She wanted to remember this one. She had to.
She brushed her hair properly for what felt like the first time in an eternity and then started down the hallway, past the room that would remain empty, and then descended the stairs.
She heard voices outside through the windows that were open on the first floor- the voices of her friends. Once they had heard of her plans, they had asked if they could be there, and she had agreed. They were waiting for her, even though there had not been a specific time mentioned, only the day.
She pulled on a pair of shoes and exited the house through the back door, squinting in the afternoon sun.
Peeta was the first to notice, and he caught her in a tight hug when she got close enough. She returned the hug. She and Peeta had developed a rather special bond despite his gentle, friendly soul and her fiery personality. They had been through a lot together and as the years went on, he had begun to feel like a brother to her. They looked out for each other in their own ways.
Katniss was beside her when she pulled away from Peeta's hug. The gray-eyed woman had her arms clasped behind her back and a unreadable expression on her face. She had been the one that had gotten the sapling- a little birch tree. "I hope it's alright," Katniss said softly, referring to the tree.
Johanna only nodded. Katniss backed away from Johanna then, to allow her to pass. Haymitch and Effie had also joined them. Gale's mother, Rory, and Posy had as well. Gale was talking to his mother and Johanna came up beside him. He took her hand immediately.
After a few moments of soft voices, it was decided it was time.
There was already a hole. All Johanna had to do was put the sapling in it and then fill it in with dirt.
It was quiet as her friends and family watched her. Back home, planting a tree was a symbol of hope, of a new beginning. Filling in the whole with soil was reminiscent of healing.
She stood up when she was done, brushing her hands off on her jeans. She looked at the small tree with tears stinging her eyes.
Hazelle started saying something softly from behind her, Haymitch's voice joined in, followed by the voices of Rory and Posy and finally, Katniss. It sounded to Johanna like some sort of prayer, but she wasn't certain.
A set of arms wrapped around her from behind. Gale of course. He had joined into the prayer as well, but his voice was softer than a whisper.
She did not know the people of District 12 had retained any sort of religion. District 7 had bits and pieces woven into traditions, but despite being close to so many District 12 residents, she had never heard nor seen anything to suggest they had their own similar traditions. Not even Gale had brought anything up.
Religion had been outlawed by the Capitol in the Dark Days, but as they did for so many other things, some residents of Panem had kept it up in secret. Now, religions were slowly making a resurgence, as did holidays.
Johanna personally had never subscribed to the belief of a god, but she knew it brought comfort to some.
"What was that?" Johanna asked Gale when the air fell silent again.
"We lost a lot of babies in the Seam, we'd say that every time. Mom calls it a devotion." He replied before pressing a kiss to her cheek. "It's for love and peace and healing."
Johanna was touched.
Some time later, after everyone had been shaken from their reverie, there was food to be shared. The day had turned into a mixture of District 12 and District 7 traditions, which was fitting. Johanna truly felt much better.
Effie had pulled Johanna aside.
"I have something for you,"
"What?" Johanna asked curiously.
"Hold out your hand," Effie said.
Johanna obliged, and Effie fastened a bracelet around her wrist. It was a simple bracelet, small rectangular metal plate in the middle with a piece of leather cord tied to each end, and then fasted onto her wrist with a knot. In the center of the plate was an engraving of a butterfly nearly identical to the one that had been on the sticker on Johanna's hospital bracelet.
Johanna's eyes filled with tears once more as Effie pulled a small silver necklace out from under her shirt.
"So your little one is always with you." Effie explained.
Johanna hugged the older woman. She had never in a million years thought she would have much in common with Effie, but she had been proven wrong. They too had been through a lot together, and now they shared one more thing in common.
Later that evening after everyone had gone home, Johanna had shown the bracelet to Gale and said it was a gift from Effie. She didn't explain the connection she shared with the woman, but he agreed that it was a beautiful way to remember.
Johanna laughed that night, a real laugh, for the first time in a while. She did indeed feel better. It felt odd, but the planting of the tree in memory of the baby had helped her feel at peace. Knowing that the little tree would be there, growing behind their house, and that she would get to see it every day, felt almost like she would be getting to see the baby grow up in a sense. And it would always be there. It put her mind at ease.
She wasn't sure she would ever feel completely okay again. She still wondered what the baby would've been like. She was certain she would still cry sometimes.
There were dozens of what ifs, but it would be alright. She would be alright. They would be alright.