Grieving Gumball นิยาย & เรื่องราว

The nurses had their heads bowed and their arms folded to their front in grief. Gibson went swiftly to kneel by the side of the corpse on the bed. He held onto the body, and his muffled sobs were the only thing heard in the room. “I’m so sorry, Gib.” The older man said, coming to Gibson's side to grieve with him. Was that his significant other? “What would I do now you're gone, Kim? What do you want me and Aria to do now without you?” He spoke between his sobs to the body he held unto.

It stutters while I read on. Son Gavin Henry Thomas devastated after tragedy strikes the family. At nineteen years old finds father James A. Thomas suffering from cardiac arrest. He died later that night, leaving Thomas Corporations to only son G. H. Thomas. I close my laptop, feeling sad for a young Gavin, lost after his father’s death. He must have felt so alone, having to be strong for his mother and sister while grieving his father’s death. I watch television and almost fall asleep before my phone vibrates with a text. I smile, my sadness vanishing when I open the message and see it’s from Gavin.

Jordan's bright laughter that had carried us through dark times, his terrible jokes that made everyone groan but secretly smile, his gentle hands that had taken care of me while I was unconscious - all of it gone forever. "No, no, no," I whispered, grief tearing through my chest like physical claws. The pain was so intense I couldn't breathe properly, couldn't think past the crushing weight of loss. This was Jordan - sweet, loyal Jordan who'd been planning to give Rikka that rare medical book, who'd talked about their future together with such hope just moments ago.

But I understood why it might feel true to someone whose grief had nowhere productive to go. This wasn't about me anymore, not really. It hadn't been about me in a long time. It was about a family trying to figure out how grief and moving forward could coexist without one negating the other, and I'd become the visible site where that struggle played out because I was the easiest thing to point at. I called Marcus. "Hey," he answered. "How's the arm?" "Strong. Carla's pleased." I paused. "Sarah and two others came by the gym. Apparently Carol's been telling Donna that I've erased Amber. That you don't say her name unless I bring her up."

Maverick stared at the billboard without blinking as tears of regret streamed down his face. "If I hadn't cheated, would I have been able to enjoy such a wonderful life too?" he mumbled to himself. "I regret everything that I did. I truly do." Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do to change the past. … Violet's First-Person Point of View Time passed in the blink of an eye. On New Year's Day, my assistant approached me and said, "Mr. Gibson passed away due to illness. His will states that he wants you to handle his funeral…"

The friction sent a vibration up her arm, settling in her shoulder joint. "Hello, girl," she whispered. Her throat felt tight, the muscles constricting around the words. She swallowed, but the lump remained—a physical manifestation of the grief she usually kept metabolized. She closed her eyes. She didn't see the dark behind her eyelids. She saw the Dregs.

My eyes well up with tears that I've been holding back for far too long. After leaving Jullie's room, I return to my own, feeling a weight on my shoulders that never seems to lift. It's as if grief has become a permanent companion, following me everywhere I go. I sit on the edge of the bed, my gaze fixed on nothing in particular. The room feels suffocating, a silent reminder of the life I had planned but was cruelly snatched away from me.

When I needed to be handled with care. Shaking my head, I let one corner of my mouth tug up into a sorry excuse for a smile. "I haven't had the time." Bellamy rolled onto his feet. Stood up and smiled down at me. A tender hand reached forward. Cupped my cheek. "I'll go get them for you. You just focus on your breathing." Their presence didn't take away my pain. Didn't close the hole left in my heart by Harland. But they made space for me to grieve. Mourn the loss that I had just encountered.

Xavier*** I rise—slow, trembling—like a man being dragged from a grave. Every muscle screams, raw and unrelenting, as if grief itself has shredded my skin, replacing it with jagged shards of fire. My bones are burning, my heart a hollow echo, a beat I don't deserve. I gasp for air, but each breath feels like swallowing broken glass, tearing me open again. My fingers curl into fists, not from strength, but to stop them from shaking with the violence of loss. Power lingers beneath my skin, volatile and grief-soaked, pulsing with every heartbeat that shouldn't exist without him.

It goes stiff. The doctor looks uncomfortable to be with us, normally people’s reactions to grief are sadness, tears and anger and not two men not saying a single word. “I will leave you to it,” he coughs awkwardly, before turning and walking away. “The news is already out, the whole world probably knows now.” The existence of Barbara in our midst is clear to us as we stare at her; her face is smeared with dried tears, her hair, now messy, is tied in a knot.