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Epilogue?

Content Warning: mentions of death

By Alexandria StanwyckPublished 9 months ago 2 min read
Created by author on Canva

Read these first: Red Orange Yellow Green Blue Indigo Violet

1 year after the funeral

I stand at the archway at the entrance of the cemetery, frozen as if I am a human statue. In my hand, a bouquet of red roses banded together with a purple ribbon.

Deep breath in. One. Two. Three. Four. Hold. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Exhale. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

Finally, my feet start to move. One step after the other until I am in front of a familiar grave. Andrea Rhodes. Loving daughter and sister. Bending down, I gingerly place the roses on the grass in front of the stone.

"Hey Andrea. It's your favorite brother. It's been a while." A nervous chuckle falls out of my mouth. "I didn't want come back and say this until I knew every word was true."

I give a shuddering breath before continuing. "I'm not angry with you. I want you to know that. I was pissed at myself and felt guilty for not being here to protect you. Instead of dealing with it, I allowed it to seep into my bones, which only made me more miserable."

The tears run down my face as I place a hand on the stone. "I'm sorry I could save you, Andrea. I know, I know, it's not my fault, but doesn't mean I can't be sorry. I love you little sister." I sniffle a little before pointing at the roses, chuckling. "I owed you since I destroyed the ones I brought last year. And don't worry, the bush is still there. I thought you would be happy to hear that."

After a few quiet moments, I turn around to leave. The hole in my heart left by Andrea's suicide is still there, but I never expected therapy and a visit to my sister's grave to fill that. In fact, I know there isn't anything to fill that hole. But now, I know I can survive.

***

Dear reader,

"Grief never goes away; it changes with time." That was something Mom told when I was aggravated at how hard I grieved the death of someone who had died many years prior. I felt that after years of them being gone, I should be fine. But my mom helped to see that grief is like an ocean; it comes in inconsistent waves.

Short StorySeriesMicrofiction

About the Creator

Alexandria Stanwyck

My inner child screams joyfully as I fall back in love with writing.

I am on social media! (Discord, Facebook, Instagram, and TikTok.)

instead of therapy poetry and lyrics collection is available on Amazon.

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    Alexandria StanwyckWritten by Alexandria Stanwyck

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