Tied to You

Grief

I sit in the pew of the crematorium at Hendon Cemetery as the celebrant begins the service. As I look at my mother's coffin, I can't help but be glad that death claimed her in the way it did, silently in her sleep. An early morning phone call a week ago let me know that she had suffered a massive stroke during the night.

In truth, her death has been a bit of a relief; her quality of life had been deteriorating over the last couple of years and Alzheimer's had stripped her of the person she was. Instead, the woman I had been visiting the last few years was convinced she was eighteen and she had the mouth of a sailor. The mother I knew disappeared a long time ago, and even though I have had time to mourn that loss, the grief still bites, opening up the scar that I thought had long since healed.

A sound startles me and then a body slides into the seat next to me. I don't have to look up to know that it is Alex.

"I thought you were in America?" I whisper. Since our encounter in the basement a couple of weeks ago, we haven't spoken, communicating solely through notes and email about mundane household things. The day before my mother died, Alex flew out to the States on business and was supposed to be there for another ten days. I hadn't wanted to bother him about the funeral, so I didn't tell him about her death, but obviously, someone else did.

Alex doesn't reply and simply laces his fingers through mine in a gesture of support. I sit through the service in silence as the celebrant talks about my mother's life, focusing on the good memories I supplied of her and glossing over her disease. There are not many people in attendance, but more than I would have thought, which fills me with a kind of bittersweet sadness.

When the service is finally over, we make our way out into the weak December sunshine. Christmas is just a few days away, and while it would normally be raining this time of year, I am glad for the pleasant day, which I know my mother would have appreciated. I feel empty as people gather around me to express their condolences. I try to accept them as gracefully as possible, but all I want to do is escape. Alex remains a solid presence next to me, his hand resting gently on my back. Sensing my unease, Alex suggests heading home, seemingly aware that I have not organised a wake. I nod silently and let him guide me to his car, vaguely wondering when he went home to collect it.

I close my eyes the minute I fasten my seat belt to avoid conversation, and I am grateful that Alex just lets me be. My mother's death might be somewhat of a relief, but I still feel sad and incredibly lonely. She may not have been much of a mother to me in recent years, but I can still remember the memories we created together when I was younger.

The moment the car stops I am out the door and straight up to my suite before Alex even has a chance to follow. I just can't stand the idea of making idle chit-chat and I have a headache brewing that I know I just need to sleep off. I pull off my funeral dress, a black and sombre affair that I had tried to cheer up with a fuchsia flower, and pull on a pair of fleecy pyjamas, despite the fact it is only four in the afternoon, and with that, I curl under the covers and wait dry-eyed for sleep to claim me.

I am vaguely aware that I am screaming, but I can't work out if it is part of the nightmare that I am trapped in or for real. Suddenly the covers come up and the bed dips as a warm body encircles me.

"Shh. It's okay, Liv. I got you," Alex whispers in my ear, as he strokes my hair off my face and rubs circles over my back. My eyes are still closed as I relive the nightmare of watching my mother die in a hundred horrible ways. I struggle for consciousness, and when I finally open my eyes, I see Alex looking down at me, his face filled with concern. It is the last straw and I break down into great, heaving sobs in his arms. I don't know how long I lie there, crying in his arms, but he never lets go…never stops the soothing whispers in my ear. Eventually, the tears abate and Alex runs gentle thumbs under my eyes before planting a soft kiss on my forehead. Still circling me, he rolls me over so that he is spooning me, a strong arm wrapped around my waist.

"Sleep," he murmurs. "You are safe with me." And I have never felt safer than now, in Alex's arms. Within moments, at his command, I sink into a deep, dreamless sleep.