Waves of love

(One week later: After the funeral) [15 April]

Ocean

At this point, darkness had finally found me. I had always believed I was the luckiest girl alive. I never needed much. I only needed my mother, the woman who somehow managed to be both a father and a mother to me. How she did it is something I still wonder about to this day.

Now, darkness had not only found me. It had engulfed me. It wrapped itself around my thoughts and my breath until I accepted it as my permanent place. I was not ignorant of reality. I understood what had happened. I simply chose to live inside the moment before everything shattered, convincing myself that nothing else mattered. The only thing that had ever mattered was my mother.

And now my pillar was gone.

A single week felt like an entire year. I had been trapped in this endless darkness where time refused to move. It was lonely. It was cold. And I missed my mother so deeply that it felt physical, like an ache lodged inside my chest. The thought of navigating life without her felt impossible. I could not imagine a future where she did not exist. She was part of me. She always had been.

Who could be so heartless as to leave me motherless?

I had no other family. It was just me and her. What was the point of studying so hard now, when she would never get to enjoy the fruits of my effort? She would never taste the meals I dreamed of buying her. She would never see what all her sacrifices built.

Who was the monster responsible for killing my mother?

Multiple stab wounds. Bullet holes. For what reason?

My mother would not even harm a fly. I refused to believe she was a bad person. Never. Not her. If it was those people who prey on others through violence and theft, then they deserved to be haunted for the rest of their lives. They deserved the deepest hell imaginable.

Damn it. Why would these tears not stop falling?

Darkness had not only filled my mind. I had allowed it to consume my space as well. I had closed every curtain in my home, shutting out the world completely. That was how bad it had become. I missed my mother. I did not care that I was twenty seven years old. I missed her. It was too soon. They took her. They took her away and left me here.

My breathing hitched as the tears continued.

A loud bang suddenly shattered the silence, sharp and impatient. It startled me.

“Ocean.”

I did not respond.

“Ocean.”

I recognized that voice immediately.

“Ocean.”

The banging grew louder, and so did her voice.

What the hell did she want? Diid she not understand what grieving meant? She should have given me my entire life to grieve if that was what I needed.

“Open the fucking door, Ocean,” she screamed.

“I am not moving here,” she continued, shouting at the top of her lungs. I believed her. She was serious. She was also insane. I loved her, but she was completely crazy.

I dragged myself toward the door, my bare feet heavy against the floor. I unlocked it slowly, but she did not wait. She flung it open so forcefully that it nearly knocked me backward.

For a brief moment, I forgot that I was grieving.

I stared at her in disbelief.

She did not apologize. She did not hesitate. She marched straight toward the windows. I watched as she pulled the curtains apart and opened every single one, even pushing the windows themselves open to let fresh air flood the room.

Light poured in.

Air rushed through.

And for the first time in days, the darkness shifted.

She had a small plastic bag in her hand.

“Go wash up. You have a visitor,” she said casually, as if my world had not collapsed a week ago.

I barely reacted. I needed to be alone. The idea of someone coming over felt intrusive.

“Steven is coming,” she added, pausing mid movement.

That was enough.

Say no more.

I sprinted past her and into the bathroom. There was no denying it. I knew I smelled terrible.

I stripped quickly and stepped into the shower cubicle, letting the water pour over me. Steven. My crush. My forever crush. My friend, for now. I could not wait for the day when we would finally become more than that.

Steven had been there at my mother’s funeral.

The thought alone shattered me.

My tears spilled freely, uncontrollable. Every time my mother crossed my mind, I unraveled. I washed my face over and over, trying to force my thoughts elsewhere. It was not easy. But for this moment, I reminded myself that I was still alive. I could grieve quietly tonight, behind closed doors, where no one could see me fall apart.

I dressed in a long black dress that covered my legs completely. The sleeves were long, wrapping around my arms like a shield.

When I returned to the sitting room, I found Viola pacing back and forth like a storm that refused to settle.

“You are a fucking mess,” she said, her face twisted in disgust.

I noticed the bowl in her hands. I had no idea what was inside it, or when I had eaten from it.

“Is that mold?” I asked cautiously.

“Bitch, you are still asking?” she snapped, rushing toward the door and dumping the foul smelling contents into the trash outside.

“Do not just stand there, Ocean,” she barked.

Right.

I snapped into motion. I helped her clean the house thoroughly. We washed dishes. We mopped the floors. We picked up scattered items and returned them to where they belonged. I made a mental note to wash my clothes later, along with everything else I had neglected.

The house looked different afterward. Better. Lighter.

I guessed I had been at my lowest, and honestly, I could not blame myself for that.

The wall clock read one in the afternoon. Viola and I were plating the takeout she had brought, arranging everything neatly. I wondered when Steven would arrive. I worried he might come while we were still cleaning. But the three plates set out in front of me confirmed one thing.

He was definitely coming.

“So, movies?” Viola suggested.

“As long as it is not about death,” I warned, lifting my plate with three slices of pizza. The smell alone made my stomach stir.

I settled onto the sofa.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

Viola and I froze and looked at each other.