19. Amends #2
“Look, you’ll understand soon enough. If you want some comfort in that form later, all you’ll have to do is seek me out, okay?” I pull her close and kiss the top of her head before pulling her through the treeline.
We walk into a clearing, and I hear Rez catch her breath.
“Are you okay?” I ask, turning to see the look of shock on her face.
“Yeah,” she says, quickly wiping a stray tear off her face. “I’ve been here before,” she admits. “This is where Anwen first found me,” she explains.
“Then, I hope I picked the right spot,” I nervously whisper.
“Right spot?” she questions.
Without answering her, I pull her out into the opening and up to the small creek where the little waterfall is emptying into the basin.
“I don’t remember this part,” she whispers in awe, and my heart swells with pride that maybe I pulled this off. We cross over the creek and walk up on the other side of the small basin to a small alcove, and Rez gasps in shock and nearly collapses within my hold.
Shit. I fucked up.
Rez
I stumble against Knots as we walk into a small rock alcove next to the waterfall, where I first met Anwen, and I can’t find my breath.
Inside the cave are all of my family and friends; some are standing, but most are sitting on a small ledge that gives them a place to perch.
Glancing up, I notice it’s a skylight cave with a hole at the top that lets natural light filter in, illuminating the anterior portion.
Moss and algae have grown all along the walls of the cave, which I would expect, but what I don’t expect are the flowering plants along the grassy area and the fairy lights sprinkled around the cave.
Finally, noticing the grass beneath my feet, I look up to see the sun and what the small shaft of light highlights, and my knees go weak.
The ground has already been dug up, and there, in the crystalline light of the sun, is a willow coffin holding my mother, Jillian.
She’s cleaned, dressed in one of her favorite yellow sun dresses, and looks at peace, even if she doesn’t look the same as I always knew her.
She’s still the ‘mother’ I had growing up.
I feel two sets of hands help me to stand as my vision blurs before me, and I turn to Knots.
“You did this?” I ask, my voice cracking from emotion.
“Yes, with the help of your Dad. I’m sorry to spring it on you, but it’s the only time we have before the Gauntlet,” he confesses, and my heart bursts as I throw myself into his arms.
“Thank you,” I whisper into his neck as I feel the tears already start to burn at the back of my eyes.
I turn and feel completely lost as to what to do next.
Moving unconsciously to my mother, I run my hand over the edge of Mom’s casket and feel the soft fabric of the lining, laughing as I realize it’s not smooth like silk but cotton.
She would have hated the silky material.
Always said she felt she was on a slip-n-slide when on silk.
Dad gently rubs my back, and I lean into his touch as he slowly envelops me with his frame.
“She would have hated the silk,” I murmur into his chest.
“I know,” he tells me, and just holds me for a few minutes before continuing. “We don’t have to do or say anything if you don’t want to,” he whispers against my hair.
A sob leaves me as I reach down and move a blonde strand of hair that the wind has blown out of place. Gone are her brunette curls that looked like mine, but the blonde bob that fit her personality much better.
“Can you do it?” I ask, giving Dad a quick look. “I would like to stay here for a bit,” I confide in him.
“Sure, honey.” He gives me one more kiss on the forehead before moving away and going to Jillian’s headstone.
“Jillian Taylor might not have birthed a child of her own, but she lived and died as a mother,” Dad begins, and my world turns blurry through the unshed tears.
“She gave her life for her child and the cause she believed in. She often said, she might not have been blessed with great wisdom or power, but she believed she was blessed with enough to make a difference.”
As dad continues, I look over Jillian’s body and find myself wondering if I could be as strong as her. She gave up her own life to dedicate it to the cause. She was so selfless. Can I say the same about me?
The rest of the eulogy goes quickly, and I find I’m numb to everything.
I’ve already gone through a funeral for Mom, back when we didn’t have a body for her.
My grandparents told me to move on, and I stupidly didn’t question anything at the time, and did just that.
Now, I know the truth, but it doesn’t make it any less hurtful.
Even knowing that Jillian Taylor, the woman lying before me, is not my biological mother, she treated me like her own daughter.
She taught me how to ride a bike, kissed my boo-boos when I fell, and taught me about animals and how to tell the difference between safe and poisonous plants.
She was my whole world for a time, and she was ripped away from me at such a young age, and it wasn’t fair.
Someone should pay.
Someone will pay.
…And soon.
“Thank you,” Dad says, and shares a shoulder squeeze with Knots before taking his seat along the ledge of the cave.
I give Knots a bewildered look as he takes his place before Mom’s headstone and releases his wings.
My heart sinks as I notice they don’t seem a hundred percent healed.
Granted, they don’t look like they went through a cheese grater anymore, but one clearly is hanging lower than the other, and one is still missing a few feathers.
But the sunlight still shines over them like ripples through water as he bows his head.
The only sound that can be heard is the waterfall in the distance for a few moments until an onset of bells begins ringing.
Looking around, I notice I’m not the only one trying to find out where the bells are coming from.
It’s not until I glance back at Knots that I notice him singing.
His voice is the bells I’m hearing ringing in delicate and beautiful harmonies.
His tone is so light and airy that I even forget that I’m supposed to be grieving.
It’s as if his voice is calling me home.
Once one song ends, Knots easily flows into another, bringing my soul on a spiritual trip to Heaven.
His songs bring tears to my eyes as his voice dips with emotion and his wings flutter.
I don’t understand the words being sung, but there’s no need to; they move me with understanding.
They speak of love, loss, tradition, and sacrifice.
I find myself finally letting go and allowing myself to feel everything without judgment.
Looking down at my mother, I run my hand over her hand and blink, letting my tears fall.
Knot’s songs continue to weave beautiful ballads of love, loss, understanding, and family as my heart breaks.
At some point, one by one, my loved ones come up and stand beside me, giving me strength by holding me or silently standing as sentinels while I cry.
Before leaving my side, they place an array of all the beautiful colors mom loved from her garden on her casket.
Each flower brings me a bittersweet sting, carrying a small memory along with it.
I don’t know how long I cry, but eventually my tears dry up, and I step back from the coffin, saving my goodbye. Next thing I know, Knots is by my side.
“Come on,” he tells me, turning me away from the casket. I catch sight of everyone gathering around the casket with shovels, and my heart swells that they are taking such good care of her. “Let me take care of you.”