Remember to read Solace Part 1-4 first :)
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~ 1 year after his death ~
It was late afternoon by the time I walked up the hill and reached the petite floral shop situated at the crest of a steep hill. One of my friends had told me about the place and said that it was like a hidden gem lost in the sea of this city. She went on and on about how beautiful the view was from up here and that despite looks, the owner was incredibly intuitive and seemed to have the ability of “reading into your soul”.
Well, so far, she had been right about one thing. It was one hell of a view. Glancing back, I could see the entire city’s landscape scattered in tiny shapes. While looking ahead, the ocean was sparkling beautifully. I stared at the scenery for a while, capturing the view with my eyes, before reaching for the door handle and opening the door. Despite a bell ringing when I did, no one was found behind the counter. So I spent the first few moments looking around the place, and there were all kinds of lovely, unfamiliar flowers around.
Then, I heard the squeal of a door opening from behind the counter and my eyes watched an old man with large circular spectacles walk in with a crate. It was filled with small pots in all different pastel colors. His eyes widened when he saw me, and he quickly greeted me with a warm smile before apologizing for not being here a few moments ago.
But I just shook my head, “Please, don’t worry about it. I had only just walked in.”
“Well, that’s good to hear,” he replied with a cheerful laugh before taking off his glasses and wiping the lenses with his apron.
“I don’t believe I have seen you here before,” he said before putting the specs back on, “my memory has always been quite good but perhaps old age is finally settling in.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle, “no no no, this is my first time here.”
He glanced at me for a second before smiling, “It must be quite the special friend.”
I smiled back softly, “Yeah…it is.”
A thoughtful look seemed to wash over his face before he walked out from behind the counter. “I think I know the right kind of flowers for this occasion.”
I followed him to the far-right side of the shop and there were beautiful bouquets of different pink, red, and white flowers. He gestured over them and said, “These are one of my favorite flowers. They are carnations. The pink and white flowers symbolize gratitude and remembrance.”
My eyes widened slightly. However, he caught it and explained, “I’ve been at this shop for over forty years now. My flowers have been bought for all sorts of occasions, some you wouldn’t even think of, but I’ve seen that look enough times to know.”
However, I just smiled in response, “My friend was definitely right. You do have the ability to read into one’s soul.”
Yet he just laughed again, “Oh it’s nothing special, young lady. I’m just an observer. The flowers do the real magic. It’s fascinating how easily people are willing to open their hearts when they want to find the right ones to buy. The meaning behind the flowers is often what matters the most to us.”
Somehow, I felt like it was the old man himself who actually held the power. The magic. His calming presence and easy-going nature could create this ambiance where you would feel comfortable enough to share.
Then after a moment’s pause, I felt the need to speak as well. “His name was Grayson. He passed away last year from the Crimson Star club shooting.”
The old man nodded solemnly in acknowledgment. “This is going to be your first time visiting him?”
I nodded. “The last time was for his funeral. I just…never found the right time to see him again.” It felt odd not telling him the full truth, but he didn’t push me to tell more and only told me that my friend will be happy to see me again.
Afterward, I told him that I would take a bouquet of those two flowers. And while I waited, I walked around the store and watched the sunlight rays shine through the store window. They had cast a beautiful glow over the flowers. It was also incredibly peaceful. The tranquillity that I felt was surreally different from the busy city noise that would echo in my ear all the time.
Before I knew it, the old man was finished. I went over to the counter and paid for the pink and white arrangement that was placed in a beautiful design. They were also placed over wires so that it could be set on top of a headstone. I was staring at them in silent awe that I almost didn’t notice another bouquet of flowers being pushed in front of me. They were white flowers and wrapped in a traditional bouquet style.
Before I could say anything, he spoke. “Take this as a gift. These are peonies. They used to be recognized for their healing powers, but they are also very beautiful.” Then he paused to sigh, “I know the pain that comes from loss, and people often never think to buy flowers for themselves. But take this from someone who is literally surrounded by these beauties all day long, it has the powers to heal the deep wounds in your soul.”
I felt like an open book on display when he spoke those words. But it didn’t feel frightening anymore. What he said only made me feel understood. It made me realize that the pain I endured was recognized and until this moment, I didn’t realize how much I needed to feel that sort of compassion.
This would have been the third time I had walked on this street in the past year. I could have easily found a detour, but instead, my mind insisted that I visited the place again. The place that changed everything forever.
The neon sign was still lit up, but the night club wasn’t open yet. There was also a beautiful mural painted across the walls of the building and many flowers were scattered near them. They were all left from the memorial held two nights ago.
Going to the memorial again after an entire year of avoiding the place was terrifying, to say the least. Especially when it was held in front of a place where so much blood was spilled. But this time, I didn’t feel alone. A lot of my friends came with me and instead of being scattered across the street like last year, we all stood together.
Many of us almost broke down when we saw the newly painted mural in memory of the victims. Their faces were painted on the wall and when I saw Grayson, well, a lot of emotions flooded my mind. He was wearing his trademark smile and his hair was tossed in a crazy mess, just the way he always liked it.
The painting was referenced from a picture that I chose when the idea was expressed to me for a mural. I was glad that I chose that picture. One where he was happy. It was important to his family that people remembered him smiling and laughing. They didn’t want his memories to be tainted by bloodshed and sorrow.
Seeing it again in daylight didn’t make it hurt any less, but the feeling was also different. The pain was often mixed with frustration, guilt, or shock. But this time, it just felt…different.
Perhaps, it was because I stopped trying to always imagine what it would've been like if he'd been alive. I just stopped putting those thoughts in my head. Instead, as these past few months had gone by, I started to live this new reality where I had to accept how different it would be without him.
My fingers slowly traced over the outline of his painting before I decided to pull out one of the pink carnations from the arrangement and lean it against the wall. The colors on the flower were bright and alive, standing out brilliantly from the rest of them. The sight made me smile when I thought of how similar it was to Grayson. He always had a natural charisma and spirit that could stand out from any crowd.
Then, I took one last look at it all, before continuing down the street again.
As I continued down the long road, I began to reminisce about the past couple of months. In the beginning, the year felt like it was passing by excruciatingly slowly. While in these last few months, the days didn't feel as dreadful. And I could say without a shred of doubt that shaking myself out of that guilt-driven nightmare was not accomplished alone.
Having someone like Charlie by my side was the antidote I didn’t know I needed. He was able to give me an environment where I could freely examine my thoughts as well as be that someone who would put me back on track when I started to spiral. We would dissect each thought and put every one of them into perspective. So that when the months went by, I slowly stopped asking myself what I could have done differently. My thoughts gradually shifted the question to: will knowing the answer make any real difference? Will it bring him back?
A difficult yet necessary part of grief was accepting this new reality centered around how to live without the guilt of not being able to save him. It felt like my mind was constantly playing tug-a-war each day, and my mindset would shift opinions all the time.
But then Charlie asked me what Grayson would think if I told him how I felt. And when I thought about it, when I really thought about it, I knew that everything I was feeling, all the guilt I was experiencing, Grayson would tell me that it wasn’t my fault. Even though I could never ask, I just had a strong feeling that he would say those exact words. Despite the many nightmares that told me otherwise, I couldn’t ever imagine Grayson telling me those things.
Deep down, I knew that my own mind was only using guilt as a coping mechanism with how hopelessly out of control I felt. Subconsciously, holding on to the guilt created an inkling of hope that I could have done something to change what had happened. It was somehow easier to consider and understand than trying to accept that I would've never been able to stop it. That I was never in control to begin with.
Charlie was the one who showed me the perspective that I was too closed off to think about. Sometimes, I would think about how things would've turned out if he wasn’t persistent.
If he didn’t care to listen.
But the thought only lingered for a second before disappearing. I'd been trying my best to stop thinking about the “what-ifs” these days. It was a dangerous game that I no longer wanted to participate in.
So, by the time I made it to the cemetery, those thoughts were cleared away. It was an easy task to accomplish with the mesmerizing view in front of me. The sun was beginning to set, and it brought out the assembly of colors across the grassland.
It took a few minutes to reach his gravestone as the last few steps were fairly hesitant, and I almost stopped completely when my eyes began to see the name carved onto the stone. But my feet trudged forward slowly until I finally reached it.
At first, I didn’t know what to do. Should I say anything? Would it be weird to talk to him even if he wasn’t actually here? But at the same time, it would be kind of rude to not say anything just in case he was listening, right? Yes, I should say something…just in case.
But before I did, I placed the arrangement of white and pink carnations on top of the tombstone. There were also other kinds of flowers already placed in front of the stone and I noticed that they were only filled with bright colors. They must have been from his parents.
I carefully organized their flowers again, as some had blown away from the wind, before I decided to say something.
“I never…,” I paused, trying to find the right words before I told myself to relax. “This feels weird.”
“But I guess losing your best friend and visiting their grave isn’t the most common thing.”
It was more difficult than I thought, trying to hold up a one-sided conversation, when a part of my mind expected to hear his voice again. It almost made my eyes prickle, but I forced those emotions down. If there was a chance that Grayson could see me, I didn’t want him to see me cry. If he could see me, I would only want him to hold happy memories with the two of us.
So, I tried to smile instead. “They painted this beautiful mural in memory of you and the other people that passed away. I think that you would have liked the picture that I picked out. Um…your mom actually invited me over and she wanted me to choose a picture. She even took out all of your baby photos to show me!”
Then, as the silence carried over, I decided to sit down on the grass and speak again. “We all miss you a lot. Sometimes, it still feels surreal that you aren’t here anymore. But I just hope that wherever you are right now, that you’re happy. I hope that you’re loved.”
Then I stopped to breathe out a shaky sigh. “I’m sorry for not visiting you all this time.”
I almost wanted to tell him everything that had been going on for the past year. But then I decided against it. It was unnecessary to tell him about the bad days, especially when a lot had turned around lately.
“But I promise that I’ll come more often.”
Afterward, I spent the rest of my time reminiscing the past with him. I retold some of my favorite memories of us that I hadn’t thought about in a while. It was more effortless this time around as the feelings of hesitance and heaviness had easily faded away. In the end, I realized that whether he was listening in or not, this was the very first time that I was able to laugh and smile about those memories.
I didn’t believe that I could ever do that again.
The automatic lights turned on as I closed the apartment door behind me. It must have been nine in the evening since the sun had gone down completely by the time I had made it back here. Being in this place during these past few months had gradually gotten easier. Ever since I took Charlie's advice on doing a thorough clean up, it looked a lot more lived-in. The change even did wonders on my mental space.
As I made my way to the kitchen, I felt a buzz in my back pocket. It must be from Charlie. So, I quickly placed the bouquet of peonies on the counter before answering the call.
“Did you visit him today?”
I hopped onto the counter before answering. “Yeah I did…I’m actually really glad that I went.”
Even though I couldn’t see him, I could hear him smiling from ear to ear. So I just rolled my eyes and said, “Don’t say it.”
He chuckled and responded innocently, “I didn’t even say anything.”
But I just scoffed. “Yeah, yeah okay. But you were going to go off on your ‘Have I ever been wrong’ et cetera et cetera speech.”
He just laughed again. “That’s a pity…I’ve been rehearsing it all day long. But I guess if you knew that it was coming, it wouldn’t have been that fun anyways.”
I stopped myself from rolling my eyes again but couldn’t help but continue the banter. “I would have hung up before the second word came out of your mouth.”
“Alright, alright fine,” he said before returning back to a more thoughtful voice. “If you’re not busy tomorrow, it’d be great to meet up and go someplace fun. I haven't had the chance to relax after my last exam and I still feel like a hermit.”
I agreed happily and we spent the next little while deciding on tomorrow’s plans before I put my phone back in my pocket. Then I hopped down and reached for the clear vase hidden at the back of the cabinet before filling it with water. The silence was comfortable tonight and it was nice to just lean against the counter and embrace it.
Then I put the flowers into the vase and brought it over to the rounded table near the balcony window. After taking a seat as well, my mind swiftly recalled the past day while staring at the white petals in front of me. It was a habit that I started to exercise so that when my mood took a turn, I would be able to examine where the day turned sour and find out why.
In the end, today was a good day.
But there's never a straight upward trajectory with how each day could turn out. That’s one of the big misconceptions about the healing process. Or the more common term: acceptance. It doesn’t always get better. The pain doesn’t just disappear, it doesn’t just stop hurting once you learn to accept.
It just becomes more bearable.
I could never really explain how it feels when people ask. It would be like describing the meaning behind an abstract painting to someone who had never seen it. Yet, as I observed the bouquet of peonies in front of me, a certain connection came to me.
Just like a flower, sometimes a petal will wilt. It will begin to shrivel and darken. But after a couple of days, the petal will start to heal. Because with a little bit of care, a little bit of love, it will start to grow and flourish again. That’s how I would describe the pain. Some days, it’s more painful and the world feels darker. But you learn how to continue living with it. You learn to fight back because it’s the only way to not let it kill you. And as you experience more and more peaks and trenches, the world will begin to feel brighter and the pain will start to lose its power.
Sometimes, I’d wonder if I’ll be able to avoid it the next time around.
But each time I think about it, a part of my mind would challenge it.
Because as a friend once told me, we are not always on the driver’s seat of our life. So, no matter how much we try to fight for control, many of the times we are just innocent victims broken down by uncontrollable variables. So, the answer is most likely no. This feeling, this pain, may never truly go away. But when it does come, you’ll be prepared to endure it. You’ll know how to fight it. So that the next time around, you’ll learn how to live beyond it.
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We are finally at the end of the series!! As you've probably noticed by now, I created this very long story to reflect the stages of grief that one goes through after losing a loved one. This is just one take on it and people experience grief in different ways, but I hope that you enjoyed this journey through Erin's eyes.
Comment down below because I'd love to know your thought about the ending :)