I could tell from the concerned way he was looking at me that he didn’t just mean finding Mum. Flynn was the one person who could truly understand how devastating it had been to go through something like that – twice in my case – and I suddenly wanted to share it with him.
‘It was like Noah—’ But my throat was so tight that no more words would come. Tears pooled in my eyes and, as they spilled down my cheeks, Flynn closed the gap between us, pulled me into his embrace and I didn’t resist.
With his strong arms around me and his head resting against mine, I had the sensation of finally being home. I used to think that there was nothing that couldn’t be resolved by one of Flynn’s incredible hugs. Until the worst thing possible happened and I was so mad with the world that I couldn’t bear for him to touch me because a hug wasnotgoing to make that better. It wasn’t going to bring our son back. So many memories flooded back of being in Flynn’s arms – everything from a welcominggood morningembrace to a comfortingit’ll be all righthug to a passionatetake me to bedclinch.
He tightened his hold and I responded by doing the same, my heart beating faster, butterflies swirling in my stomach. So many emotions were bubbling close to the surface, joy one moment, desolation the next and I could feel that cork inching out of the bottle. With a gasp, I released Flynn and stepped back. Not here. I couldn’t lose it here. If that cork broke free, years of grief would come pouring out and I couldn’t do that to my dad, my family, Flynn. Being here right now was meant to be a celebration of Mum’s life and an emotional breakdown from me wasn’t on the agenda. I needed to reapply mynothing-to-see-heremask and take control.
‘I need to make sure my dad’s okay so thank you for coming,’ I said, aware of how exceptionally formal I sounded. ‘Get yourself a drink. Mingle.’
Flynn tilted his head to one side, a slight frown rumpling his forehead.
‘Thanks for coming.’
‘You’ve already said that.’
‘Because I mean it. Dad’ll be very grateful. You mean a lot to him.’
‘And you?’ he asked.
The butterflies went wild as he held my gaze, an intensity in his eyes. I chose to ignore the possibility that he was asking if he meant a lot to me too. We really didn’t want to open that can of worms.
‘I’m grateful too,’ I responded before walking past him to return to the wake. When did walking away become my default mode for when things got tough? I didn’t want to be that person but, right now, I didn’t feel like I had much choice.
35
On Sunday, the usual suspects plus Auntie Sue gathered at Georgia and Mark’s for a barbeque. The mild sunny weather was set to turn to rain by the end of the week so it made sense to make the most of it while we could.
Mum had been quite set in her ways about having a traditional roast dinner for Sunday lunch and I think it was easier on us all by making the first Sunday get-together since her death something different. Had we gone for the roast, there’d have been the formality of sitting around the dining table and being acutely aware that her usual chair was empty. Plus barbequing gave Dad a focus as he could never resist taking over as head chef.
After everyone finished eating, Dad proposed a toast to Mum and raised his glass towards the sky. ‘I know you’re looking down on us, June, and very likely tutting and rolling your eyes at the absence of the Sunday roast. We miss you and wish you were here.’
His toast led into an afternoon of sharing our favourite memories of Mum. There was a lot of laughter and some tears. Not from me, though. I kept telling myself I didn’t need to be strong and keep it all in in front of my family, but I knew that wasn’t the reason the tears stayed at bay. A lot of soul searching over the weekend had made me realise that I wasn’t just grieving for Mum – I was also grieving for Noah and everything I’d lost when he died. After seven years and four months of not dealing with any of those feelings, I was terrified of what would happen when the cork on my bottle of emotions was finally released.
I drove Dad back to Derwent Rise later that afternoon and joined him inside for a coffee.
‘It was really special hearing everyone’s memories today,’ Dad said when we sat down in the lounge with our drinks. ‘If June was watching us, she’d have loved it too.’
‘It was lovely how all our memories were so different.’
I glanced around the room, noticing that the carpet had been vacuumed, the surfaces polished and the cushions plumped. After Noah died, the last thing I’d felt like doing was cleaning, cooking or doing the laundry. If it hadn’t been for Flynn, the house would have been in complete disarray. It was a relief that Dad wasn’t letting everything slip like I had.
‘How are you finding being here without Mum?’
He sighed heavily and shook his head. ‘I keep thinking she’s just in bed or the bathroom and there’ll be a shout for help from her at any moment. I’ve called her name a few times and then I remember she’s not here and it hits me all over again. It’s going to take a long time to adjust.’
‘Have you had any more thoughts about staying here?’
‘I change my mind several times a day so I’m going to have to give it a lot of time. The last thing I want to do is rush to move out then regret it down the line.’
It was a hard relate to that.
‘Sounds sensible,’ I said. ‘Can I ask why Mum was so keen for you to stay?’
‘Because she loved this place so much. I told you that she looked at the view and wanted it no matter what it looked like inside. June was always practical and controlled about decisions – very much a head-over-heart woman – but on this occasion her heart took charge. We looked inside and it was a tip. All I could see was the hard work and expense, but June could see the vision. Complete role reversal for us. I grew to love the house but she was smitten from day one and I don’t think she could bear the thought of anyone except us living here.’
‘You will do what’s right for you, though?’ I said. ‘Even if that does mean going against Mum’s wishes.’
‘I will. Don’t you worry about me.’
