Chapter nine
Via
2017
"If one more person touches me and says 'they're in a better place,' I'm pretty certain I will snap. How could anyone think that's okay to say?" I grunt lowly as Izzy scoots next to me on the edge of the top of the parking garage near the funeral home.
I needed to breathe. I couldn't take it anymore. I know this is part of the step that is supposed to help me get closure, but it's maddening.
Family members who haven't spoken to, seen, or even acknowledged any of our existence for as long as I can remember sitting there sobbing like they had a relationship to miss in the first place. All of the unhelpful 'words of encouragement". I'll never understand how or why people think they can take this kind of pain from someone with a sentence. Especially the type of sentences they decide to slur together. Stupid shit like, 'They're all at peace now,' 'God needs them more than you do,'or 'Keep your head up' and 'they wouldn't want you to be sad'—That's my favorite one.
If only it were all that simple.
Like, yes, you're absolutely right. Let me just shut that sadness switch right off.
I wish people would acknowledge that grief and sadness after loss are acts of love and just let me love them through this phase the way I need to. Instead, everyone felt it was necessary to tell me how to proceed. I know they mean well and don't mean harm, but I can't get past what society thinks is comforting.
It's pretty sick, really.
"I hate people. I wish I didn't, but I really do. I don't get the point of these things. It's like they're all down there having an unspoken competition of whose the saddest and who can say the most absurd 'comfort phrase.' It's pretty damn gross", I say as I drop my head, shaking it softly and watching my feet intently as I dangle them back and forth, then side to side, off the ledge of the garage.
Izzy is still silently sitting next to me, which I know is hard for her. She knows me and knows that when I'm in this type of headspace, I need silence because that is where I thrive.
After a while, she nudges my arm without saying a word. Finally, I smell it and flash her a hard, almost cold look.
"Just take it, trust me," she says as she tries to hand me the joint she just took a hit off. I want to be mad that she has this here. She knows I don't smoke, but this may be the only intelligent gesture someone has made today. I sigh, taking a deep breath as I shake the disgusted look off my face.
I snatch the joint out of her hand very nervously, take a hit, and then choke on it for the next five minutes. By saying I don't smoke, that also includes not having a single clue how to smoke, which has never been an issue before since I've never tried it. She laughs at me, and I can't help but laugh slightly back. MaybeI did need this. Of course, Izzy would be the one to know exactly what I needed.
"Where the hell did you get this anyway?" I ask as I bring the joint up to my mouth slowly, preparing myself to try again and not choke myself out this time.
"I didn't get it. Ander gave it to me and told me to force you to hit it." She replies as she looks off, trying to avoid eye contact with me.
I push away from the ledge, throw the almost complete joint over, and stand to walk away.
"Via! He wants to be here for you! He said he was steering clear and would leave if you wanted him to, but only if you told him to leave yourself."
I turn around toward her and quietly object, "Why is he even here, Iz? I told him not to come. Now I have to tell him he has to leave? That's just great!" I run my hands through my hair, taking a moment to catch my breath. I sigh heavily and then glance back over to Izzy.
"I'm sorry, Izzy. I can't see him. I can't. I thought he would have listened when you told him I asked him not to come. I was hoping he would understand and respect that." At this point, I'm holding back tears. "I don't know how to be around him." I'm barely able to get out as the tears are getting harder to hold back, and the knot in my throat gets tighter.
I wish I could tell him the truth. I wish I could tell Izzy the truth. I wish I could tell them that I want nothing more than to run into his arms and run away with him, but my brother is an abusive, controlling sociopathic psycho who I know damn well had a part in our family's deaths, and he threatened that Ander would be next.
I don't question them believing me. They know Liam, so they would know it's the truth. My worry is what will come of it,which would be nothing short of a war. A war that no one needs right now.
This is the best for everyone. Although, I'd be lying if I said it wasn't killing me more than I thought possible.
Izzy looked me over for a few beats, then grabbed my hands and nodded in understanding. "I got you," she said as she pulled me in for a hug.
I have no intention of going to look for Ander. He shouldn't be here. It isn't safe for him. That knowledge alone causes my stomach to tie in knots.
There's no happy ending for me. Now my family is all gone. How can I look myself in the mirror, knowing that if I hadn't left the other night, they would have no reason to go out, there would have been nothing and no one to look for, and my parents and my sister would still be here?
I don't place blame on him. Not at all. I put it all on myself. He deserves better. Someone who isn't so damaged. Someone who can make him as happy as I know he will make them. That will never be me. The sooner he sees it, the better off he will be.
Izzy is standing guard in front of me, warding off the relatives she knows I would rather not speak with, like the absolute gem that she is. The service is about to start, and I hate that I'm ready to get it over with. I hate the fact that it's something to get through at all. To make matters worse, Liam is somehow in charge of everything, as if I don't exist. My parents had no will, and fighting him was pointless; he made this as cheapand thoughtless as possible. He requested all 3 of them to be cremated, even my sweet Natty Bear.
He knew how much my father hated the thought of cremation; my mother never voiced an opinion either way. I have no doubt he did it to spite them completely. If it weren't for the funeral director pushing and my persistently annoying grandmother hounding him, he wouldn't have even had a service for them at all.
