For: Amaherst, whose reviews keep me afloat!
Day 15
On the fifteenth day of Christmas…
His arm snakes round her shoulders, squeezing her towards him. She turns and collapses into his arms, sobs wracking her body.
Upon reaching a lull in the storm of tears, she reaches for his handkerchief and wipes her eyes, which are puffy and red, and blistered from rubbing.
"Your son was a joy. We are so sorry for your loss." It is some couple that she cannot begin to recognize – not now. She nods her thanks, keeping her mouth tightly closed.
He quietly thanks them, his rich voice – so like Fred's! – comforting her like a familiar coat. But seconds after the couple has gone on to talk to Bill, Charlie, and Percy, who have clumped together and slowly circle the perimeter of the burial grounds, she's in his arms again, tears shaking her from head to toe.
What's the use of stopping, anyway, when she knows she'll just start again a moment later? What's the point of living when there is death in the world? What's the point of grieving when you'll soon follow in their footsteps?
A mother should never have to bury her own babies…
(Arthur/Molly)
Notes: Oh, God, not another funeral bit…:( I'm really sorry…not sure how this happened…BTW, the last line belongs to Dave Matthews Band, not me (from the beautiful song Gravedigger).
Thank you all for your amazing reviews and sweet comments. I haven't had the time to go through them all yet. I went to school this morning at 7:00 AM, then the wake at 2:00, then home at 9:00 (yeah, seven draining hours), then planning for the funeral, crazy breakdowns, angry sisters, etc. Today was packed. I'll do my best to do more responding & updating on Wednesday. Thanks again for all your wonderful support! It means so much to me!