Echo's of a witches past

Standing in her mother's outdated kitchen, Ivy took in her cream-coloured curtains with the lemon print and the orange wood cabinets. The creamy brown tiles on the floor needed new grout and a scrub she thought to herself as she moved toward the round wooden kitchen table. Ivy sat down and watched the people walk in and out of the kitchen, placing casserole dishes on the countertops or finding a place in the large double fridge. Food seemed so unimportant. Why were her mother's friends and family bringing food, she wondered watching the various casseroles being loaded into the fridge.

Today was expected. Her mother having cancer meant they knew at some point she would have to say goodbye. Yet it was still a shock to her system. Her puffy eyes and tired body could only watch silently as people came in to ask, "How are you doing?"

Ivy just sat there in silence, not wanting to answer. It certainly wouldn't be what people wanted to hear or care to really listen to. They knew she and Dylan were grieving. Knew they were numb or in pain. So why ask?

"What a stupid question" Ivy muttered to herself. Waiting for people to leave the house, emptying it and leaving only the heavy silence. A new thing for her mother's house. It was always filled with her laughter. Her mother's husband, Dylan, always made her mother laugh. He knew how to make Ivy's mother feel light and happy.

How to fill her mother with love and support. When Her mother was diagnosed, he stood by her. Appointments met with care and love but largely and most importantly met with Understanding. Her mother had found someone who loved her how she had always deserved to be loved. Dylan had made the last few months bearable for Ivy. Strength lent her way and shelter under his courage and support meant she was able to be there for her mother. In a way she couldn’t if Dylan weren’t the dad she needed.

Dylan wasn't her father by blood, but he had been there for most of Ivy's life. He taught her how to ride a bike and picked her up from camp when she got homesick. It was when she went to camp Beecan back when she was eight. He took her fishing only then to discover her fear of large bodies of water. He took her to go shopping when Ivy's mother couldn’t be due to her first encounter with cancer. Ivy was being bullied about her fashion choices at the age of eleven and Dylan had her back. He initially helped her buy her first car at sixteen against her mother's wishes, but he talked her mother around. Dylan knew a girl needed to be independent. She always called him Dad. To her, he embodied the feeling and meaning of the word.

Ivy's biological father to her never deserved the title of father at all. To her, he was as much of a stranger as anyone you would find on the street. Her mother left the man and her birthplace when Ivy was two or three. Ivy never really heard from the man either. The occasional Christmas card or birthday card was as much as she got from the man that was meant to be her dad. Ivy's mother had told Ivy bits about William. When she was younger, she considered forming a bond with him, but his lack of interest proved to Ivy it wasn't worth her time to try. She was glad she never craved an attachment to William. She attributed this to Dylan as he was her dad.

Ivy was lost in thought and continued to sit in her parents' kitchen. She hoped that maybe it was a horrid nightmare, and her mother would come into the kitchen and announce that Dylan and she were going to Italy like she always wanted. Instead, Aunt Freda and Lucile walked in. Lucile and her mother looked more alike than the three sisters. Today it was a painful resemblance. It made Ivy's heart wrench. They both had Auburn hair and deep green eyes. Her mother had higher cheek bones, but their faces were very similar in shape. Lucile, however, was tallest of the three. "Now two", Ivy thought sadly.

Freda has deep brown eyes and dark brown hair with some gray hair peppered in it. Freda's body is curvier in contrast to the slimmer Lucile. Both are equally beautiful in their own way. Ivy has always loved how they are both soft in their expressions and gentle speaking. These qualities have always calmed Ivy, but today they are unwelcome. She finds herself wanting to stay away from being soft as in that softness there is the reality of the loss of her beloved mother.

"Hey pumpkin" Freda said, her brown eyes focused on Ivy's pale face. Lucile glanced at Freda with a worried look. They seemed to be having a conversation without words. It felt as like Ivy was being assessed by anyone who walked into that kitchen today. A feeling she loathed. Yes, she was sad and didn't look like herself. Her mother had just died. Dylan and Ivy might have known what was coming. They were now grieving, and shouldn't her aunts be a mess too? Ivy wondered why they seemed so put together and calm while Ivy looked like she herself was at death's door.

Ivy nods at her aunts, saving her energy to leave the room. But Freda puts a gentle hand on Ivy's shoulder. "Darling, we are going to stay for a few days. To help you and your dad." Ivy looks at her aunts. Help with what? She thinks. The hard stuff is done. Her mum is already dead. The cancer took her. It fucking won. "No need Freda, Dad and I are OK." Ivy feigns a small smile and walks out of the kitchen to find her father.

Ivy makes her way out of the kitchen to the dark hallway up the narrow dark wooden stairs when she hears her dad call out to her. His face pained as he stood in the upstairs hallway, a sad look where ease and happiness usually lived. He was always everyone's strength. Dylan was a bright light when her mother was first diagnosed with the fucker known as cancer. Now he stood in the hallway without his usual bright eyes and hearty laugh. As Dim and bleak as this dark hall he stood in. His eyes

Ivy walked to her dad and hugged him. She hears his quiet sobs as he tries to be the stone, the one to stay together, but Ivy knows it's her turn to be his strength. Hugging her dad and giving him the moment he needs before she breaks the silence. "I'll tell them to leave."

He nods, making his way down the hall with Ivy as she gets the house emptied. Ushering people out as quickly as she can. Her aunts are the last to leave, insisting they will be back. Ivy thinks maybe for her father it would be best. She nodded in agreement to her aunts, mouthing a Thank-you. After all, they are all grieving, and maybe this will help her dad. Ivy wants him to have all the support as possible.

After the house is emptied, they stand by the front door and the void of silence. Now a deafening sound wraps them. All they can do is feel her absence and continue the best they can. Whatever that means or however that will work. Her mother's bright laughter and sweet voice felt so apparently gone that Ivy felt her heart ache. She feels the hole that bores deeper into her heart and all she can do is try and continue. But how?

Ivy looks at the man who loved her mother with all his being. Now Ivy more than ever wished for ghosts to be real. For her mother to come here and haunt them with her laughter. To appear in front of them so they can see her soft eyes with the wrinkles at the corners, her bright smile and her warmth one last time.

Ivy never believed in the afterlife, or the so-called ghost sightings people had experienced. Right now, she would do anything to hear her mother's sing song voice telling her a story about her family's long history of black smiths, miners, doctors and lawyers, and teachers. The island her family came from alongside two other founding families back in 1695 was founded by her father's family first.

Her mother's love for her family would be a reason to come back if it were possible. There is no way she wouldn't if ghosts were real, Ivy thinks while looking around her parents' silent home.

   Unsure what to do now in the loud, silent house, Ivy places her hand on her dad's arm, "Maybe we could try eating?"  They both slowly wander into the kitchen. The outdated room is now just quiet and cold. No longer the hub of baked goods and family meals. She heats her and her dad a plate of lasagna. The food looks good and smells lovely, but her stomach protests at the thought of her eating any food. They both sat at the kitchen table where she had sat with her parent’s countless nights before. Now in utter silence as they both push the food around on their plates. Neither one was able to actually eat, but both tried not to worry each other.

Her dad tries making small talk, any noise to fill the void. He started asking about how her studies were, if she needed any money. Ivy smiled slightly at her dad's words. Even while his heart is shattered, he still takes care of her like before, not a single beat missed. This man really was a father and the best. Ivy pauses to tell her dad what she had been thinking about doing for a while.

"Dad... I think I'll pause studying and move back... in here for a bit"

She watches him, hoping he will be happy with this choice. Disappointing him now would kill her. She only wants to be a help and support during this time.

Her dad smiled, seeming almost relieved not to be alone in this big house and to have his daughter close by. Even when the aunts come back and stay, it wouldn't be the same as Ivy being with her dad. Ivy feels happy knowing her presence can help her dad. Being in her family home will help her too. Ivy knows grief is a bumpy road, but with them being together they can support each other.

Ivy sits and watches the man she's called dad her whole life, a man larger than life now shrunken with loss. Even his usual tall stature feels smaller, almost like his grief had physically manifested itself, pushing him down, shrinking the once tall man.

His bright blue eyes were now a duller colour and his smile lines not there missing along with his cheesy grin. No jokes cracked, no smiles shared that managed to reach their eyes or that lifted their hearts. Today was the beginning of their grief, truly.

Six months ago, when Ivy's mother Lillian made a third return to the shit show, which is cancer, they were told they would have her for a maximum of eight months. Lillian wasn't a strong woman normally, but she'd beat it before, so she knew the drill. She sat stoically awaiting all the plans the doctor hopefully had to be wrong about an eight-month time frame. Ivy tried to keep strong but cracked when she saw her dad's smile falter.

He knew that a third time having to battle cancer was usually the last battle as the body wasn't strong enough anymore. The chemo and radiation also took its toll on the organs. He, however, continued to be her rock and was there with all her treatments in the past and would be there again. Dylan took Lillian's hand and nodded, listening to the doctor. Hoping desperately that he was wrong.  Dylan always told Ivy no matter how Lillian's body changed due to chemo and radiation, she was still the woman he loved. Her green eyes and kind heart were always the same. Ivy saw his love for her mother how genuine and beautiful it was. Now seeing him small and defeated was making this grief harder to navigate. Cutting into Ivy.

They grieved for her diagnosis, then grieved as she neared the end of treatment and there were no changes. They both knew what would happen, but knowing, and it happening. They were two different monsters.