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Rated: E · Short Story · Women's · #1906968
Grief reflects on being loved.
To read from the beginning:
 The Collapse (1)  (E)
A mother's grief begins.
#1906964 by MrsDesjardins2012



Loving Grief


She greeted Grief at the door like an old friend. Embraced him and gently placed her head on his shoulder, letting out a sigh in the moment. Knowingly Grief placed a hand on top of her head and pressed her curly mop of hair into his black wool dress coat. It was into this coat, she whispered, "Thank you". She looked up at him, through her mascara laced lashes, and managed a simple smile.

Looking down at her, Grief smiled back. Katy always thanked him, but she never needed to. He recalled the late nights bundled on the couch together, the early mornings crying in the shower, the mid-afternoon tea she repeatedly took with two sugars, cream and several tears.

Lovingly Grief remembered how many times she had said "he's in a better place" and spoke of God's will. Remembering how she comforted others with her faith while still questioning her strength daily. He gave her a light squeeze and pulled her to arm's length.

He saw in her honey-tinted brown eyes, the look of a woman with nothing to lose yet everything to live for, the look of a woman who only knew how to love. Even him.

Grief was only accustomed to being despised, avoided and ignored. This woman, who he had just met in September, did something he had only ever dreamed of, she embraced him.

Grief paused on that thought, holding her soft face in his hands. He remembered how effortlessly she understood that he was not the enemy. Never trying to run away from the comfort that he offered and instead, offering Grief love.

Katy placed her hands on top of his which were resting on her face. Grief watched as she adjusted his rigid arms into a perfect ballroom promenade position. She lead the dance, her left foot gracefully moved forward and he responded by gawkily moving his right foot backward. As he looked down at his feet, as if to blame them, she let out an unrestrained laugh.

A few minutes later, still dancing to music that only she could hear, Grief whispered, "Thank you." For he had never heard real laughter.
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