Everyone Handles Grief Differently

**Content Warning! Before reading please know this short story has themes of self harm, death, depression/medication. Please read at your own discretion, and know this is a work of fiction.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 800-273-8255 Help is always available.

I looked around my Aunt’s empty guest bedroom. There was quite literally nothing in the room save for a small, twin sized bed and a dresser. I smoothed the comforter on the bed and sat atop the untouched blanket. I took a deep breath and smelled the clean air in the room- it reminded me nothing of home. I didn’t feel sad about moving, the only thing Klarksburg had to offer was my mom, and now that she’s gone there’s no point in being trapped there any longer. I heard voices and footsteps coming up the stairs as my aunt and uncle rounded the corner to come into the guest room. They were carrying a large chest- my only ‘suitcase’, containing all of my possessions. They sat the heavy chest down with a thud. Aunt Suzie brushed her hands together, “Whoo! All in a days work, huh? Get yourself settled in honey, then we’ll assess what you have and don’t have, and we’ll take a trip to the mall in a few days, alright? Uncle Kenny and I are gonna go start on dinner, holler if ya need anything, darlin’!” She said as she laid a gentle yet reassuring hand on my shoulder. She kissed my head and walked to leave the room, uncle Kenny winked at me while leaning on the door jamb. Once aunt Suzie left the room, he followed behind her, and pulled my door shut. I took a moment to breathe, and squeezed my eyes shut. “Okay Lea. Everything is fine. Breathe. Things will feel normal soon.” I stood from the bed, and kneeled in front of my chest, noting how rough the carpet felt against my knees. It reminded me of being a little kid, knees pressed against the hot sidewalk while I drew chalk-masterpieces. My mom would stand behind me ooh-ing and ah-ing in ‘amazement’ in order to encourage me- maybe I’d grow to become an artist, she couldn’t crush my dreams- she’d said once I was older and asked about the false encouragement. I shook my head as if to be physically shaking away the memory, and opened my chest to begin unpacking. 

A few hours and one slightly uncomfortable family dinner later, I had my pajamas on ready to climb into bed when there was a gentle knock at my door. I quietly invited them in, the door slowly opened and my aunt suzie’s small frame replaced the closed door. She came in and closed the door gently behind her. “Hey junebug. I just wanted to come check in on you before bed, and give you a hug. Talk to ya a little. How are you doin’, bug? Really?” The bed dipped slightly as she sat next to me, turned a bit to be facing me. I hadn’t been asked how I was since the day after the incident, I felt my eyes lightly well with tears. “I- I um. I really appreciate you guys taking me in aunt Suz. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you guys weren’t there.” Memories from that night flashed through my mind, inciting the pain all over again. I looked up to meet my aunt’s eyes, she met my glance with not sympathy but empathy. After all, it was her sister. I wasn’t the only one struggling. “Listen sweets, I just want you to know this is your home now. We’re here for you. Any need, any question, you’ve got it. Your mom told me about a month ago you have a girlfriend back home? We’ll help facilitate you seeing her however you need, junebug.” Hearing my aunt say this caught me by surprise and I burst out laughing, it was clear by her face that she wasn’t expecting my reaction. “Oh, aunt Suzie I really appreciate that, but that was just my mom being goofy. We have- uh, had- a neighbor girl my age, we were good friends and my mom liked to tease that we’d get married one day. But..that was before things got bad. The neighbor girl’s parents stopped letting us be friends when mom took a turn for the worse.” I watched my aunt’s face droop in sadness as I spoke. She then quickly grabbed me up in a tight hug, “I am so, so sorry sweetie. You never should’ve had to go through any of this..but you know how hard losing your dad was for your mom.” I nodded along with her words, she reassured me again that I was more than welcome to come get them if I needed anything through the night. She kissed the top of my head and left my room. I laid back in my bed to sleep but as the pattern has been since the incident, I had to relive those moments over and over before I could get any sort of sleep. 

My dad was in the armed forces, so we did a lot of moving throughout my childhood. We moved to Klarksburg when I was 14 years old. We’d been there for a year when my dad had to leave. It was a month before I turned 16 when we heard the knock at our door. I was sat at the kitchen table doing homework, my mom went to answer the door. I heard low murmurs and then the most blood-curdling scream I’d ever heard. My heart sunk and I immediately knew what happened. I ran to the door and saw the two uniformed men holding a folded flag with solemn faces, I crumbled to the floor and held my mother as she wept. Because my dad was often enlisted, I didn’t really know him, and my mom was my best friend. But my parents were highschool sweethearts and totally, grossly in love. After my dad died, my mom’s mental health plummeted. I couldn’t blame her, she’d lost her best friend. I started picking up the house chores, and taking care of myself. Mom spent most of her days in bed with the curtains drawn, medicating herself until she was numb. I just did everything I could to keep her alive. I kept her water glasses filled, I re-filled her prescriptions, and picked them up, I spoon-fed her oatmeal and soup, easy things to keep down that her medication wouldn’t cause her to puke up. On particularly bad days when she would sob so loudly it felt as if the walls shook, I laid in bed with her and held her quivering body through the night. But the night that changed everything was different. She’d gotten up out of bed that day, for the first time in weeks, other than to use the bathroom. She came downstairs while I was eating dinner and doing homework. She looked like a zombie, her face sunken in, and her frame small and frail; but she gave me a weak smile. She slowly walked over to me, sat next to me at the table and asked me how my day had been. I felt my eyes fill with happy tears to hear my best friend’s voice. I’d lost all my friends with my mom’s mental health decline and the loss of my dad. I had to take care of her and the house so I had no time for any fun, and no one wanted to come over, they said ‘the house felt too sad’. We had a bit of small talk before she headed back to her room. That night I slept in her bed with her. It was about two AM when I heard the tub running. I rolled over in mom’s bed to see her side of the bed unoccupied, with a small trail of tiny blood droplets. I assumed she’d maybe gotten a nose bleed, but couldn’t understand why the tub was running. Concerned, I jumped out of bed and ran to the door. I knocked a few times, twisted the locked doorknob and heard no answer so I called out, “Mom? Mom are you okay? What are you doing?” There was no answer, and I began to panic. I knocked harder and louder when I felt wetness seeping through my socks. I looked down and saw water flowing under the door, and then pink began swirling through the water. It was then that I knew something was wrong. I tried to slam the door open with my shoulder, to no avail. I grabbed a hammer from my dad’s toolbox which was left perfectly untouched under his side of the bed, and smashed the door as hard as I could, eventually breaking it. I broke through the door and stepped into the flooded bathroom, and saw my mom laying in the tub, passed out, with her wrists slashed open. I screamed in horror, and immediately began crying and screaming her name. I ran to the side of the tub and tried to shake her awake, her skin was hot from the water but her face was cold to the touch. After shaking her and seeing she wouldn’t wake up, I called 911. They came in and took care of everything. She survived after major surgery to save the nerves in her wrist, but they deemed her mentally unsound and incapable of caring for me and herself. I was allowed to visit her the day after she was admitted. As I entered the room, seeing her brought tears to my eyes. I’d never seen my mom so vulnerable, so broken, the light in her eyes was completely gone. She looked up at me slowly as I entered the room, she gave me a weak smile, “Lea..I’m glad to see you. I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry you had to see me that way I just...I thought things would be better. I thought with me gone, you’d have a chance at happiness. I’m sorry.” At that moment I felt such anger toward her, “You thought you were helping?! You’re all I have! I have no friends, no family close. I can’t even get a job because I have to be at home caring for you all the time. I know losing dad was hard for you, but you brought me into this world, you already abandoned me by never leaving your room, and now you wanna abandon me completely? Why can’t you just love me the way a normal mom does? Why are you so selfish?!” I yelled at her through my tears, and I ran out of the room. And every night since then, I’ve had to relive the events of this past year over and over before I can sleep. 

I woke up exhausted that morning to Aunt Suzie opening my door with a plate of pancakes and bacon. She’d chosen me an outfit for the day, the sun was streaming through the windows, and the blankets smelled clean even after a restless night. That morning I felt a level of relief I hadn’t felt in months, but I also felt a level of guilt I’d never felt before. I had the knowledge that my mom was somewhere in a room full of soft edges, where she was practically spoon-fed medication all day long, forced into therapy sessions lit by florescent lights, and monitored by nurses in sterile, white, scrubs. Meanwhile I sat in a comfy room, on an even comfier bed, and was treated like a queen. I guess the saying about everybody handling grief differently really wasn’t kidding.