Bethan
A Story Every Day in 2024 Sept 23rd 267/366
I try not to relive that day but it's difficult not to when the anniversary of it comes around year after year. The loss comes rushing in like water through a weakened crack in a pipe. Most days, I manage to hold it back, although it's pressure is always there, pushing at me.
I can't commemorate the day of her death. I still don't know if she...died. So, I take the day when she went missing and allow the pain in. Ah, who am I kidding? The pain is always there. And I don't control it like I think I do. It's a force of nature, grief, like the tides of the sea. Sometimes it comes at you with the power of a hurricane behind it, assaulting you with its crashes, the danger of it taking you under, drowning you. And then there are days where it laps your shore, barely leaving a trace; like a crab's footprints: only the most observant could spot them.
But it's never not there. It just pushes and pulls, ebbs and flows.
Today is the day that I take the photo box out and I weep. I light a candle, close the curtains and seal off the sun. I look at happy days with smiling faces. I look at love that shines so strongly that I marvel at it. I look at you, Laney. I look at us.
I struggle to say her name any other day of the year. It's like a trigger, the first topple of the domino that can set everything else off. She was such a carefree girl, loved by everyone. She had that certain something that people were drawn to without being able to identify why. She was warm, like a sun spot in a darkened room.
I've never felt warmth like that since.
Where are you, Laney love? Give me a sign and I'll find you. I don't like the thought of you out there, somewhere, alone. Let Mummy help you.
*
The noise of something being pushed through the letter box jolts me awake from my grief-induced torpor.
On the mat, a plain brown envelope and inside a photo of three boys, running.
***
366 words
A continuation of the story of Laney, Luke, Matthew and Mark. I wonder how it will end?
Links to yesterday's tale below where you will also find the links to all those that have come before in this little mini series:
Thanks for stopping by! If you do read this, please leave a comment as I love to interact with my readers.
267/366 - the first in the final 100!
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Comments (18)
I didn’t want this part to be the mother’s part, I was dreading it. I love your prose when you write as her. Her character is just as hopeful as Luke’s, if not more, but now that we know something she don’t, it breaks me even more. It would be interesting to see what happens with the letter, the photo and who mailed it. 👌🏽👏🏽♥️
Suspenseful! 🙂
This description of grief is so true. "Sometimes it comes at you with the power of a hurricane behind it, assaulting you with its crashes, the danger of it taking you under, drowning you. And then there are days where it laps your shore, barely leaving a trace; like a crab's footprints: only the most observant could spot them." Such a perfect metaphor and so vividly written.
Interesting angle you've thrown in the mix with this story. Can't wait to read more.
Dun-dun-duhhhh!!! And too the plot thickens!! I love the way you shift perspectives in still keep the story cohesive!! I feel like you could turn this into a cute little novella when your done!!
Oh goodness. So sad. Described that kinda grief so well. And I love the fact that she ties back to what the boys thought of Laney, by saying she had that inda something that people were drawn to. Even her mum (wouldn't all parents think that of their children - true, but I like that it strengthens the characterisation of Laney as one of those people that people just flock to) well done and getting interesting as the lines are converging a bit with the photograph. Onwards I goes!
I hope there’s a closure coming for the mom! And curios who the photo deliverer is!
Oh no. Not knowing is bad but sometimes, maybe, ignorance is bliss. Her poor mum. This was heartbreaking.
Epic, Rachel! This series is an epic miracle in a small package!
Ah, this is so good! "The loss comes rushing in like water through a weakened crack in a pipe," is such a powerful description. I can feel it in my chest. Well done!
Beautifully descriptive. And of wondering what comes next. This I'd a great series, Rachel.
Your description of grief resonated with me. Infact, I think it's the closest anyone has ever come to explaining how I've felt since loosing my dad. I thank you for it. ❤️
The intrigue of that ending is fantastic - and the eloquent, poetic description of grief preceding it is so beautifully, mournfully crafted. So glad this series is continuing!
Hmmm... She's alive?
Now I wanna know who pushed the envelope. Masterful description of grief, Rachel!
Oh my heart.
I feel so sorry for her 🥺🥺🥺
Perfect description of grief ❤️