![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
And then . . .
May. 19th, 2004 06:57 amChapter 3:
"Randy?" She reached for him as well, and with a little smile, he squeezed her tight.
"Where’s mommy?" she asked. She saw Randy’s eyes well up, and she was very upset, because she hadn’t seen him cry since he broke his arm when she was tiny, and he was in 6th grade football.
Violet could hear people talking long before she could see anything. She kept trying to open her eyes, but they wouldn’t cooperate, and she felt a strong male hand holding her right one. As her head tossed, her father patted her cheek and said
"Hey Princess, Daddy’s here. Don’t worry, Daddy’s right here with you."
She could hear all these noises and voices, and occasional conversations in a low tone, not meant for her, she knew. But the smell, the main one, was Daddy’s aftershave. And it relaxed her, allowing her to sleep just a little longer, and awaken more refreshed a few hours later.
Her father was right there, as he had been since he arrived at the hospital 36 hours before.
"Hey Princess, there you are!"
He smiled as she focused on him, and she squeezed his hand, then tucked it deep into his palm. Violet was squinting into the bright hospital lights, and her father said
"Randy, how about turning off that overhead? Let’s just use the lamp for right now."
Violet saw Randy hanging in the background as she reached for her daddy’s neck. Little arms wrapped around him, breathed deep of his comfort, and then let go.
"Daddy?" Mike picked her up and just held her for what seemed like hours. No one said a word.
Because of the trauma her body had gone through, Violet’s mind was numbingly blank. But that tug she had felt during the accident had left a horrible empty space in her chest, which seemed to have wind rushing through it. Violet could hear it in her head. She knew, as any child knows on a deep level, that her world was askew, and she had a horrible sense that her mother was gone, although no one said as much. There would be time for that in another day or two, and more grieving and coping later. Right now, all her father could think to do was hold her, and it was in truth all she needed.
Chapter 4:
Violet stood, holding her father’s hand, or her brother’s, depending on who was closest. She saw more people walk past her than she had ever seen in her life, stopping to speak, then hugging her, or her brother, or all of them in turn. She didn’t cry. She had cried for days and nights, and she knew that there would be more tears at some other point, but right now, she was just dry. She couldn’t smile, couldn’t respond most of the time to anyone, she just stood, or occasionally sat on the front row. She certainly couldn’t look at the front of the room. She had been up to the casket before everyone came in, her father insisted, and she didn’t really fight. She knew it was her last chance to see her mother, and she knew she’d be sorry if she didn’t. She’d touched her face, her hand, and wondered at just what lay beneath the clothing on her poor mommy. But she couldn’t - she would never look at that box again.
All through the wake, the visitations, and the service, she kept feeling that something was amiss, as if there was something just out of her line of vision that she kept expecting to come before her. Afterward, as the days went by, she remembered that feeling, and noticed it again occasionally. She would walk in the room, and her father would be on the phone, but he would stop talking abruptly, or her grandparents would be at the house, and her grandma would clam up as she appeared in the kitchen doorway.
Her grandparents, John and Eliza Reeves, had come to stay with them for the remainder of the summer. Their little poodles, Lacey and Jimbo, accompanied them everywhere, and Lacey became Violet’s constant companion - lying beside her for hours at a time as she sat reading, or sitting under her feet at the dining room table. Vi was very grateful for this, because she knew that she would have simply lain down and not gotten up again for days if it weren’t for Lacey. As it was, Violet would go outside occasionally and sit, while Lacey and Jimbo covered the yard, making their rounds from tree to tree, wrestling and playing tag. Jimbo was affectionate, and attentive as well, but was always bringing her a ball or something to throw. He wanted to play, and Violet just wasn’t ready yet.
Eventually, after a couple of weeks, Jimbo and Lacey convinced her, and she could be seen tossing the ball to one and then the other. There was still no spark in her eyes or life in her face, but that would come, with time.
By September, Violet was ready to jump right back into life. Her sixth grade year might not be her greatest, but she was going to give it her best shot. School started as usual. At first Violet’s friends were quiet around her, tentative at first about making jokes or being rowdy. But as they noticed that she was trying to have a normal life, they began to relax around her. She turned 11 just a few days into term, and went skating with three of her girlfriends, who then came home with her to spend the night. Both sets of grandparents had managed to come to visit for the weekend, and there was plenty of cake and attention. The ache in her chest for her mother was not really noticeable until she went to bed. She lay awake, imagining her mother’s face on other birthdays, over the candles. She knew that her family was doing their absolute best to cushion her, and she was comforted by that as she fell asleep.
"Randy?" She reached for him as well, and with a little smile, he squeezed her tight.
"Where’s mommy?" she asked. She saw Randy’s eyes well up, and she was very upset, because she hadn’t seen him cry since he broke his arm when she was tiny, and he was in 6th grade football.
Violet could hear people talking long before she could see anything. She kept trying to open her eyes, but they wouldn’t cooperate, and she felt a strong male hand holding her right one. As her head tossed, her father patted her cheek and said
"Hey Princess, Daddy’s here. Don’t worry, Daddy’s right here with you."
She could hear all these noises and voices, and occasional conversations in a low tone, not meant for her, she knew. But the smell, the main one, was Daddy’s aftershave. And it relaxed her, allowing her to sleep just a little longer, and awaken more refreshed a few hours later.
Her father was right there, as he had been since he arrived at the hospital 36 hours before.
"Hey Princess, there you are!"
He smiled as she focused on him, and she squeezed his hand, then tucked it deep into his palm. Violet was squinting into the bright hospital lights, and her father said
"Randy, how about turning off that overhead? Let’s just use the lamp for right now."
Violet saw Randy hanging in the background as she reached for her daddy’s neck. Little arms wrapped around him, breathed deep of his comfort, and then let go.
"Daddy?" Mike picked her up and just held her for what seemed like hours. No one said a word.
Because of the trauma her body had gone through, Violet’s mind was numbingly blank. But that tug she had felt during the accident had left a horrible empty space in her chest, which seemed to have wind rushing through it. Violet could hear it in her head. She knew, as any child knows on a deep level, that her world was askew, and she had a horrible sense that her mother was gone, although no one said as much. There would be time for that in another day or two, and more grieving and coping later. Right now, all her father could think to do was hold her, and it was in truth all she needed.
Chapter 4:
Violet stood, holding her father’s hand, or her brother’s, depending on who was closest. She saw more people walk past her than she had ever seen in her life, stopping to speak, then hugging her, or her brother, or all of them in turn. She didn’t cry. She had cried for days and nights, and she knew that there would be more tears at some other point, but right now, she was just dry. She couldn’t smile, couldn’t respond most of the time to anyone, she just stood, or occasionally sat on the front row. She certainly couldn’t look at the front of the room. She had been up to the casket before everyone came in, her father insisted, and she didn’t really fight. She knew it was her last chance to see her mother, and she knew she’d be sorry if she didn’t. She’d touched her face, her hand, and wondered at just what lay beneath the clothing on her poor mommy. But she couldn’t - she would never look at that box again.
All through the wake, the visitations, and the service, she kept feeling that something was amiss, as if there was something just out of her line of vision that she kept expecting to come before her. Afterward, as the days went by, she remembered that feeling, and noticed it again occasionally. She would walk in the room, and her father would be on the phone, but he would stop talking abruptly, or her grandparents would be at the house, and her grandma would clam up as she appeared in the kitchen doorway.
Her grandparents, John and Eliza Reeves, had come to stay with them for the remainder of the summer. Their little poodles, Lacey and Jimbo, accompanied them everywhere, and Lacey became Violet’s constant companion - lying beside her for hours at a time as she sat reading, or sitting under her feet at the dining room table. Vi was very grateful for this, because she knew that she would have simply lain down and not gotten up again for days if it weren’t for Lacey. As it was, Violet would go outside occasionally and sit, while Lacey and Jimbo covered the yard, making their rounds from tree to tree, wrestling and playing tag. Jimbo was affectionate, and attentive as well, but was always bringing her a ball or something to throw. He wanted to play, and Violet just wasn’t ready yet.
Eventually, after a couple of weeks, Jimbo and Lacey convinced her, and she could be seen tossing the ball to one and then the other. There was still no spark in her eyes or life in her face, but that would come, with time.
By September, Violet was ready to jump right back into life. Her sixth grade year might not be her greatest, but she was going to give it her best shot. School started as usual. At first Violet’s friends were quiet around her, tentative at first about making jokes or being rowdy. But as they noticed that she was trying to have a normal life, they began to relax around her. She turned 11 just a few days into term, and went skating with three of her girlfriends, who then came home with her to spend the night. Both sets of grandparents had managed to come to visit for the weekend, and there was plenty of cake and attention. The ache in her chest for her mother was not really noticeable until she went to bed. She lay awake, imagining her mother’s face on other birthdays, over the candles. She knew that her family was doing their absolute best to cushion her, and she was comforted by that as she fell asleep.
