CHAPTER 2: THREAD OF GRIEFS

As Aunt Fernanda's harsh words hung in the air, a sudden urgency gripped the room. The atmosphere turned icy, but before I could respond, the monitors started ticking fast, a frantic rhythm that pierced through the tension. Nurses and the doctor rushed in, urgency etched across their faces.

"What's happening?!" I exclaimed, panic rising as I clutched my grandmother's still hand.

Aunt Fernanda echoed my fear, her eyes widening with alarm. "Is something wrong with Mother? Tell us!" she demanded, her disdain momentarily eclipsed by genuine worry.

The doctor's face was grim as he explained, "Her condition has rapidly deteriorated. There's a sudden decline in her vital signs We're doing everything we can, but it's an emergency. Please step aside, we need to work quickly."

The room transformed into a chaotic dance of medical professionals, their movements purposeful and urgent. Anxiety thickened the air as we clung to the edge of uncertainty, our eyes following every motion, every exchange of hurried words.

Nurses conferred urgently, their hushed conversation a backdrop to the escalating tension. Tubes rattled, and alarms beeped in discord as the medical team worked with urgency.

One of the nurses spoke, her voice calm but laced with concern, "We're administering medication to stabilize her, but her condition is critical."

Another nurse adjusted the equipment, her eyes focused on the monitors. "Prepare for a possible code blue. We might need to initiate resuscitation."

The doctor's instructions cut through the urgency. "Get me the crash cart. We need to move quickly and try everything we can."

As the medical team worked tirelessly, Aunt Fernanda and I stood on the sidelines, helpless witnesses to the unfolding tragedy. The air in the room grew heavier with each passing moment, anticipation and dread intertwining.

Questions tumbled from our lips, but the answers remained elusive. Suddenly, the room fell into an ominous silence.

Finally, the doctor turned to us, his gaze heavy with sorrow "I'm sorry. Despite our efforts, we couldn't save her. Your mother has passed away."

Aunt Fernanda's gasp echoed the collective shock in the room. The weight of the words settled like a heavy shroud in my mind, and the doctor faced us with solemn eyes. "I understand this is incredibly difficult. We did everything we could, but sometimes, despite our best efforts, we lose the battle."

The doctor's face bore the weight of delivering heart-wrenching news, and as he faced us, the finality of the moment became undeniable. "The time of death is 2:31 PM. I'm truly sorry for your loss."

Time seemed to freeze as the weight of those words settled in. Aunt Fernanda's scream pierced the air, a raw manifestation of anguish. I felt my legs give way as the reality of the words settled in. The room blurred as grief overtook me, and I collapsed into a chair.

"No, no, this can't be happening," Aunt Fernanda muttered, her disbelief turning into a heartbreaking wail. In that moment of raw grief, her eyes locked onto me with an accusatory glare.

"This is your fault! You brought nothing but pain and misery to this family! Your cursed presence brought this upon her" she screamed, her grief morphing into anger.

"No, Aunt Fernanda, I—" I tried to protest, but her words drowned out my feeble defense.

"You're the reason she's gone! If it weren't for you, Mother would still be alive," she spat, her anguish twisting into resentment.

Before I could respond, she lunged at me, her hands gripping my hair, pulling me into a whirlwind of chaos. Nurses rushed to intervene, attempting to pry her away as the room echoed with the harsh sounds of grief and rage.

Through the blur of tears and pain, I felt the weight of her accusations and the sting of her physical blows. In the midst of mourning, I found myself burdened with an accusation that cut deeper than any words.

***

The day of the funeral draped the attendees in somber hues of black and gray, a collective manifestation of shared grief. As friends and family assembled, I couldn't escape the profound sense of abandonment. With Grandma's passing, the reassuring presence that had guided and protected me was gone, leaving me adrift.

The minister's words, a eulogy for the woman who had shaped my world, became a distant murmur in the backdrop of my thoughts. Despite the heartfelt sentiments expressed, I found myself lost in a labyrinth of memories and emotions.

Amidst the sea of mourners, I stood alone, my connection to the shared grief around me tenuous at best. The air hung heavy with sorrow, yet my personal sense of loss felt like an isolating force, rendering the condolences of others distant and hollow.

In the midst of the ceremony, my mind replayed moments with Grandma, her wisdom and warmth etched in my heart. The minister's speech, an attempt to encapsulate her impact, faded into insignificance against the vivid tapestry of memories.

As I stared at the casket, a vessel carrying the remains of a profound connection, my emotions surged. The world seemed vast and unfamiliar without the one who had always stood by my side. The ache of her absence was palpable, a void impossible to fill.

In the midst of my solitude, a distant voice interrupted my thoughts. It was Aunt Fernanda, her words carrying an edge of disdain, "You never really understood the sacrifices your grandmother made for you, did you?" The accusing words hit me like an unexpected blow, leaving me vulnerable amidst the sea of mourners.

Leila, my cousin, chimed in with a whispered remark that carried the weight of cruelty, "Always the burden. Now she's gone, maybe things will finally be peaceful." Her words, laced with resentment, intensified the prevailing grief, casting shadows on the solemnity of the occasion.

As their harsh words pierced through the shared sorrow, a hushed murmuring spread among the guests. Whispers of disbelief and disapproval circulated, creating an undercurrent of tension that mingled with the poignant air of the funeral.

Their words, while seemingly private, became a spectacle, with attentive guests catching wind of their bitter exchanges. The funeral, meant to be a respectful farewell, transformed into a stage for familial discord.

Aunt Fernanda, undeterred by the sanctity of the moment, continued her verbal assault. "You brought nothing but trouble. Mother would still be with us if it weren't for you," she accused, the venom in her words amplifying the sense of isolation.

Leila, fueled by resentment, added fuel to the fire. "Everyone knows she resented having to raise you. You drained the life out of her." Her words, like poisoned arrows, struck at the heart of my grief, leaving wounds that seemed to bleed with every harsh syllable.

The surrounding guests, unable to ignore the escalating confrontation, exchanged uneasy glances. Murmurs swirled, and the atmosphere became charged with a mix of curiosity and discomfort. The once serene funeral setting now vibrated with tension, as the discord within my family played out for all to witness.

As the dialogue persisted, my grief magnified by the public airing of grievances. The guests, caught between their respect for the occasion and the spectacle unfolding before them, couldn't help but become entangled in the drama.

“I couldn't believe Geneva raise someone like her,” one of them whispered.

The funeral, intended as a moment of collective mourning, now served as a breeding ground for speculation and judgment. The whispers of the guests, fueled by the audible bitterness from Aunt Fernanda and Leila, painted a distorted narrative that tarnished my name amid the backdrop of grief.

As it continues, Jason who's just right beside me whispered words of reassurance. "They don't understand what you've been through. Your grandmother knew your worth, and so do I. Don't let their bitterness define your grief."

As Grandma's casket descended into the waiting earth, the finality of the moment struck me with a force I couldn't contain. Despite my efforts to maintain composure, a sudden burst of raw emotion overwhelmed me. Tears streamed down my cheeks, and a choked sob escaped my lips.

The weight of loss, the absence of the woman who had been my rock, became an unbearable reality. "Grandma, I miss you so much," I whispered, the words carrying the weight of a profound ache. The vulnerability of grief laid bare, I allowed myself to express the depth of my sorrow.

Jason, attuned to the shift in my emotions, pulled me into a gentle embrace. His comforting presence provided a sanctuary for the torrents of grief that poured out. "It's okay to let it out, Celicia. I'm here for you," he murmured, his words a soothing melody in the midst of the emotional storm.

In that moment, surrounded by the hushed whispers of the funeral attendees, I surrendered to the waves of grief. The collective mourning seemed to echo my individual sorrow, creating a symphony of shared pain.

As Grandma's casket disappeared from view, the reality of her physical absence hit me anew. "I love you, Grandma. Thank you for everything," I uttered through tears, the words a testament to the profound impact she had on my life.

***

After the funeral, as everyone gradually departed, the once-bustling gathering dwindled into a quiet emptiness. The solemn faces of mourners became distant echoes, leaving me alone with the weight of loss.

Aunt Fernanda and Leila, seemingly relentless in their bitterness, approached me one last time before departing. "Don't think you're off the hook for what happened, Celicia. You'll always be a burden," Aunt Fernanda spat, her words etching a deeper wound into my already battered heart.

Leila, mirroring the hostility, added with a mocking tone, "Maybe now you can finally learn to stand on your own. Good riddance." Their departing footsteps echoed in the emptiness, leaving behind a trail of harsh echoes that reverberated through my thoughts.

Amidst the lingering sting of their words, Jason received an urgent call. Despite the sorrow etched on his face, he explained the situation and apologized for having to leave. ""I have to go, Celicia. It's urgent. I'm sorry I can't accompany you, take care of yourself," he said, leaving me standing alone in the graveyard, abandoned once again.

As the reality of solitude settled in, the graves around me seemed to symbolize the myriad losses I had endured. My grandmother, my family's support, and now, even Jason's comforting presence—all gone in the wake of an unexpected storm.

Alone in the fading daylight, I felt a surge of vulnerability. The vast emptiness of the graveyard mirrored the void within me. I sat by Grandma's gravestone, the cold earth beneath me grounding the tumult of emotions within.

Tears, unbidden, welled up as I tried to comprehend a world without Grandma's wisdom and love. The weight of uncertainty pressed down on me, and in the silence, I grappled with the overwhelming reality of standing on my own.

As the shadows deepened, I traced my fingers over the engraved letters on Grandma's tombstone. "I don't know what to do without you," I whispered, the words a fragile admission of the profound loss.

The solitude enveloped me, the only sounds the distant rustle of leaves and the echoes of departing footsteps. I remained in the quiet company of memories, grappling with the uncertainty that stretched ahead. In the field of graves, under the watchful gaze of countless stories, I sat alone—still processing, still mourning, and still searching for a way to navigate the unfamiliar path that awaited me.

***

As night descended, shrouding the world in darkness, I decided to leave and made my way to Jason's condo. I wanted to avoid the mansion just for tonight because their words still echos inside my head.

I arrived at Jason's condo, the quietness of the condo greeted me as I entered. The soft glow of dim lights offered a semblance of comfort in the otherwise still space. However, as I moved further into the condo, a distant noise caught my attention. A muffled sound emanated from one of the rooms, stirring a sense of unease within me.

With cautious steps, I approached the source of the commotion, my heart pounding in my chest. The door to Jason's bedroom stood slightly ajar, and the flickering light from the hallway revealed a scene that froze me in my tracks.

There, on the bed, Jason was locked in an intimate embrace with a figure that sent shockwaves through me. The contours of their silhouettes were familiar, and as my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, the shocking truth became undeniable.

It was Leila, my cousin, entangled with Jason in a passionate kiss. The sight was surreal, a nightmarish tableau that shattered the remnants of trust I had clung to. The air thickened with betrayal as my mind struggled to comprehend the scene unfolding before me.