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“I’m on my way.” I hang up as the tears start to fall.
Joshua walks back into the room and his haunted eyes meet mine. I burst into full- blown sobs as he sits next to me on the bed and I fall into his arms.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers into the top of my head.
“I’m sorry too Josh.”
I sob out loud as the pain of the finality of the situation hits home.
My beautiful gran has gone and I will never see her again and it’s just not fair.
Death, what is it? What does it mean? And where do you go after you leave this life? It can’t be the end … can it? Is heaven wishful thinking? These questions have been running through my head and in my thoughts since Dad’s death and have once again been magnified.
I sit in the church in a daze. It’s been a week since Gran died and today we bury her. Bridget and I are on either side of Mum. She is inconsolable and sobbing uncontrollably.
I have cried more with this death than I did with Dad’s. I haven’t stopped actually. Where do the tears all come from? When Dad died I was in shock and couldn’t comprehend what had happened, but this time I know exactly what is going on. There are no drugs, no antidepressants and no guilt but still way too much hurt.
I sit and stare at the pastor through the blurry tears that fill my eyes. I have no notion of what he is talking about, my eyes are fixed on the coffin and the picture of Gran, sitting on the top surrounded by flowers. She looks happy … kind … loved.
I start to feel that pain in my throat that I get when I am trying to hold in hysteria and I look around the filled church. Mum, Robert , Margaret and Didge and I are in the front row and behind us are the Stanton boys. Joshua is sitting directly behind me and every now and then I feel his reassuring hand on my shoulder. Just having him here eases my pain. The service ends and I watch in horror as the Stanton boys, who are all in tears, rise and move to carry the coffin out to the hearse. The black suits, the black cars, the black day, it’s too much, and I put my head in my hands and weep.
I can’t handle any blacker, I need some light.
It’s Saturday and I am lying on my lounge feeling sorry for myself. Joshua has been fussing around me and desperately trying to cheer me up since the funeral. I know I should get up and do something but I honestly just don’t have any energy or motivation. Bridget scammed some cheap tickets to Hawaii thr
ough her work so Abbie and she are taking Mum there tomorrow night for some much needed respite for ten days. Mum deserves a break and I know she needs it. She hasn’t been away since she lost Dad. Joshua wanted me to go with them but I only just started my new job and I didn’t want to call in sick. Deep down though, the real reason is I didn’t want to leave Joshua. The reason he is in Australia is no longer here and he will no doubt be returning to America any time soon. I would have been a head case being away and not knowing if he will be here when I got home. He still hasn’t said anything about me returning with him and whether in fact we have a future together. I’m not asking. Something changed the other night … I think for the better. I finally cracked the glass force-field. For the first time he showed me emotion and even though it was anger … it was there and it was real. The Tatiana thing is stupidly playing on my mind. I know he didn’t tell me so I wouldn’t worry but the fact is he didn’t tell me and I feel like I’m going crazy with all this over- analysing. The puzzle isn’t fitting together.
“Can I get you something to eat, presh?” Joshua leans over me and kisses my face gently as he rearranges the blanket he has put over me.
I take his hand and smile at him. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being here, it means a lot.” I smile. “Are you ok?” I ask.
He smiles sadly and shrugs. “What do you want to eat? You have hardly eaten in a week?” he sighs.
“A Big Mac,” I reply flatly.
He frowns, horrified. “From McDonald’s.”
I smile and nod.
His eyes widen. “I don’t want you putting that shit in your body, Natasha.”
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t make me choose, Joshua. The Big Mac will win every time.”
His mouth drops open in jest. “You would choose a Big Mac over me?”
I smile. “Every time.”
He smirks, stands and takes his phone out and rings Ben. “Can you go down and get Natasha McDonald’s please.” He listens. “Yes, that’s what I said, McDonald’s.” He frowns and his eyes flick to me.
“What do you want?”
I smile. He’s actually doing it. “I will have a large Big Mac meal with Coke and an apple pie, extra salt on the fries.”
He looks at me, mortified. “Are you serious?”
