Arriving back home, I felt relieved. Knowing that mum would never again be there still caused a sharp pain to the chest, but the stress of organising the funeral was behind us at least. Dealing with everyone’s own grief being projected onto us had been overwhelming. With Grace, though, it had been a lot easier to manage.
I followed her into kitchen now and watched as she opened each of the sliding doors in the living room out into the garden. I couldn’t help but feel incredibly grateful for having her by my side. Not just for mum’s passing but for everything else associated with the mess that was my life. She was grumpy at times, but she was there for me regardless. No questions asked.
Without speaking, we both piled food onto the kitchen bench and got to work. We silently moved around, cracking eggs for the pancake batter, cutting up fruit and squeezing fresh orange juice. We made an abhorrent amount of mess, which we then had to clean up, regrettably. It wasn’t until we both sat back in our chairs on the deck outside that I chose to speak.
Should we go through mum’s things today?
Grace lifted her face to the sky and closed her eyes. Like a lizard basking in the sun for warmth, Grace mulled over the words. I didn’t know whether it was too early to be sorting through mum’s clothing and jewellery. I didn’t know if there was an acceptable amount of time that we needed to grieve before we touched anything of hers. The truth was, I didn’t know anything. This was the first time I had lost someone close to me and, although it terrified me at times, I also knew that this was Grace’s first time, too.
Giving her time to process my words, I mirrored her own posture. Slipping further into the chair, I let my head rest on the back of it and tilted my head towards the sun. I wore a short dress that ended high on my thighs, anticipating another day unrelenting heat. It was a welcomed change from the cold snaps that frequented the city.
Completely soothed by the stillness of the morning, I was so wrapped up in the feeling that I almost missed Grace’s response.
I guess we can start.
Lifting my head up, I looked over to where she sat. A single tear slipped down her cheek and she made no move to wipe it away. I was aware that she must have been torn at my words and the idea of clearing away mum’s things but knew that there was no right time to do anything when it came to losing someone you loved. I also knew that Grace might be grieving in a completely different way than I was and that I needed to be mindful of that.
I sat forward and reached my hand out to her across the table. I always found the gesture of holding hands on request quite idiotic or rather uncomfortable. However, in situations like these, it felt the exact opposite of that. Leaning over the table to meet me halfway, Grace placed her hand in mine and held on tightly. She was going through a lot right now. The emotional intelligence required to process the level of loss and anguish that she had been exposed too was astounding. Whilst she had looked well earlier this morning, right now she bore the weight of having to decide whether or not she wanted to hold onto mum’s clothes any longer.
Trying to ease her pain, I said: We don’t have to do it today, if you’re not ready.
I squeezed her hand tighter for support, like she did for me in the hospital, and waited until she made up her mind.
Letting go of my hand she eventually wiped away the tears that had escaped and said: We can start and, if it gets to be too much, we can stop.
I nodded in agreement, so we both stood up to collect the dishes and headed back inside.