46. Thunderstorms

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The next week flew by in a numb blur. After my Papa had broken the news to me, I stayed in my room for three straight days. It turned out that she'd suffered a stroke the day before the All-State games started, right before my Papa had called me when I was with Tyler. At the time, my fathers covered it up as a slight tumble down the stairs due to them not knowing the severity of the stroke nor did they want to "throw me off my game during such an important time", as my Papa put it.

Bullshit.

By the time they made it down to South Carolina, Nonna was in very bad shape. She'd died when Papa was on the phone with me the last time. That's why I heard Padre screaming in the background. The very thought made my heart twist and ache. While I was getting mad at Papa over the phone, Nonna had died. I'd heard the silence and pain of death and I hadn't even known. While I was fooling around with Tyler, my fathers were in imaginable pain. That made the grief dig into me even harder.

Grief had twisted my stomach into tight, nauseating knots that refused to let me eat any food, not that I wanted to anyway. How could I eat when it wasn't Nonna's cooking? How could I enjoy it when I knew Nonna would never cook my favorite dish ever again? No more "Heart Attacks", which was our favorite dessert for her to make us, no more fussing when I tried to sneak a bite of the food before everything was ready.

No more Nonna.

I even stayed in my room when my Papa, uncle, and aunt had the impossible job of breaking the news to my siblings. I heard their screams and their cries rip through the house and pierce my ears. The very sound made my body instinctively want to run down there and comfort them like the protective older brother I was supposed to be. But the human side of me kept me anchored to my bed as tears welled up from the deepest part of me and spilled over my cheeks.

My arms ached for my Padre who'd still been in South Carolina at the time arranging the funeral.

Grief quickly turned into depression and during that dark time where life seemed to stand still and become meaningless, I understood why Tyler shut down the way he did sometimes. Though I was experiencing it for drastically different reasons, I was still experiencing it.

On the second day, my shock was replaced by anger. I ripped all the sheets off of my bed and threw whatever I could get my hands on, not caring if it shattered or broke. I was angry and anything within my reach would feel my wrath. I was angry at my dads for keeping it from me, I was mad at myself for not listening to my gut when it told me that something was wrong, I was even mad at the assholes that beat my fathers up all those years ago and ultimately pushed them away from their hometown for good. I even blamed God for seemingly punishing me for missing church due to the craziness that had been going on with Tyler and me.

Surely He couldn't be so petty as to take away Nonna for missing a few Sundays. Other people have done way worse and they're billionaires now, so why target her? Or was it because I was gay and in a happy relationship? Were the homophobic church-goers right? Did God truly hate me because of the boy I loved? Was I the reason Nonna was taken? Was I the reason for my family's pain?

I wanted to pin the blame on a thing, something, anything, but I couldn't. As if it were a blade in my heart, the knowledge that this loss couldn't be pinned on me or my fathers or that stupid homophobic town or even on God, caused the reality of the situation to keep twisting itself as it got buried deeper and deeper inside of me.

On the third day after I received the news, I got a text from Tyler telling me he was coming over. I'd been ignoring his texts all the days prior, unable to put on an "okay" front nor could I will myself to type out Nonna's dead. I wasn't ready to refer to her in the past tense. I wasn't ready to say out loud that she was gone. If I did, if I physicalized or verbalized it in any way, then that would mean it was true. So if I just shoved the ticking time bomb of emotions I was feeling deep inside of me and never say the words "Nonna" and "dead" in the same sentence, then it wouldn't be true, right?

I was still numb when Tyler came. Though he didn't know what exactly was going on, he knew it was bad and, better yet, he knew not to ask about it. I didn't even have to look at him.

As soon as he saw me balled up in my bed with my covers and room a mess, he simply laid down next to me and wrapped his arms around me. No words, no kisses, just wordless affection and support. It was as if the phrases It's okay, I'm here. Let it all out, seeped out from every pore in his body.

And that's exactly what I did.

Though I'd thought I'd already cried all I could, his presence unlocked a new depth of sobs, the kind that rips you apart and files you down to the bloody, most vulnerable parts of yourself. And he let me. He didn't try to console me with the soft nothings nor did he try to kiss my cheeks as the tears fell. He just let me express my ugly, violent grief through screams and sobs and jerky movements.

By the time I'd cried myself dry, he again, just held me. No sage advice, no words at all. I couldn't give him any part of myself, no words or actions, but he hadn't expected me to. He just let me bury myself in him as a veil of emptiness draped itself over my heart.

Now I was standing over Nonna's dead body. The whole plane ride from New York back to South Carolina, I was dreading this moment. When I had stood over my Papa's father, I felt kinda bad, but I didn't feel sad and I definitely didn't feel this level of grief. But now that I was in the same situation in the same suit I'd worn for his funeral, it suddenly felt real.

She looked like she was sleeping, like she would wake up at any moment and fuss at my siblings and me for being too loud or for not getting started on dinner. Like she'd jump up and threaten us with her knitting needles or remind us that just because we're older doesn't mean that she can't spank us.

But I knew the woman before me wasn't Nonna. She didn't have the same rosiness in her cheeks. She didn't have the breath of life pulling her chest up and down nor did she have blood flowing through her veins. The woman in front of me was just a hollow puppet of the woman I'd known and loved. A cruel vicious imposter.

I quickly wiped away the tears that fell down my cheeks. I had to remain strong for my siblings. Next to me, Azalea was sobbing uncontrollably as she held Adryan and Emerson in her arms as if her life depended on it, but as her knees shook I knew she would collapse at any moment. I quickly wrapped my arm around her and gave her what little strength I had left as I led my siblings back to our seats. My fathers sat next to us where my Papa, like he had been for the past week, tried to remain as strong and stoic as possible. His facade cracked every now and then when tears would escape and the true pain that he was feeling was revealed in his eyes. He'd sputter and look like he wanted to scream and sob uncontrollably, but for the most part, he acted as emotional and physical support for my Padre who was clearly dealing with it the hardest out of all of us.

I could only imagine what he was going through: hearing the ring of the machine flatlining in his ears. The look of fresh death as he stood at her bedside and willed her to open her eyes. The phantom feeling of the warmth slowly leaving her body. All of the things that Papa had gone through when his father died mere months earlier.

The service went by in a numb blur. From the Bible scriptures that were read during the funeral to the car ride to the cemetery to the moments that she was lowered in the ground, all I could think about was how she'd be gone forever, buried in the town that had birthed the love of my dads but also tried to viciously kill it. Miles and miles away from me, forever.

"Come on, Addison," Papa softly said to me as he handed me a shovel. His voice was hoarse and scratchy, and it looked as if it physically pained him to speak. I mutely nodded as I took the tool in my hand. My wrist strained under its weight, the physicalization causing reality to sink deeper into my body: my Nonna was really gone.

And I was going to bury her.

My Papa, Padre, and I circled around the hole after everyone else had finished dumping their handfuls of dirt into it. We looked down to where what was left of her remained. My vision was instantly blurred by tears that I could no longer wipe away. I didn't have the strength. All of my strength had left me the moment life had left her.

My Papa was the first of us to move after what felt like years of just staring into the dark earth. He collected dirt from the giant mound next to us and dumped it into the hole. The only sound I could hear was the patter of the dirt as it mercilessly beat down on the casket. From within the dark casket, I bet it sounded like raindrops instead of dirt. My brain took me back to a time when I was young and we'd spend a ton of time at Nonna's. One night when we were sleeping, a really bad thunderstorm broke out. I'd pretended I was tough and not afraid while my siblings were awake. I'd called them babies when they jumped or cried, but once they all fell asleep, the thunderous claps refused to let me find the refuge that sleep offered me. So I snuck into Nonna's room and slept at the foot of her bed.

I'd give anything to turn back time and take me back to that moment.

On its own accord, my body started copying my father's actions of burying Nonna while my brain was still reminiscing over our countless memories.

Walk, scoop, think about when Nonna tried to teach me to knit, dump the dirt in the hole.

Walk, scoop, think about her laugh and the warmth it brought to me, dump the dirt in the hole.

Walk, scoop, try to imagine what Nonna would've said if she'd met Tyler like she'd met Kyra, dump the dirt in the hole.

The process continued, and as I and my fathers and I buried my Nonna, I tried to bury myself in old memories and keep the screams that were desperately attempting to escape at bay.

Padre was uncontrollably sobbing as Papa finished it off and patted the dirt on top of the mound. Once he was done, Papa dropped the shovel and wrapped his arms around Padre, holding him tightly and directing Padre's head into his shoulder.

It was finished.

"Addi?" I heard a soft voice ask but it sounded like it was far away. I turned and saw Adryan standing there, tears in his eyes and his arms open. He was silently begging me to offer him some kind of comfort. I willed my legs to move. I wanted to be strong for my siblings and comfort them. I couldn't succumb to my own grief until the darkness fell and the thunderclouds of grief and sadness left them be. That's how it was. That's how it always was.

However, instead of wrapping my arms around him, my knees gave out and I fell directly onto them in front of the fresh grave my Nonna was now laying in.

And I screamed.

I screamed and I cried and I sobbed and I cursed and I screamed, not caring what my family or the other people at the funeral thought.

I felt the arms of my siblings wrap themselves around me, Azalea's the strongest of them all holding me tightly to keep me from violently spazzing out. But they all held onto me, and for the first time, they were the ones protecting me from the violent thunderstorm that was ripping me apart inside.

It felt good to be protected.

***

Ugh, I blame everyone who reminded me that Nonna was old AF for the pain Addi's going through right now. If y'all hadn't reminded me I wouldn't have had to kill her! Rip Nonna and her knitting needles. Anyways, I hope y'all enjoyed this shorter, sadder chapter. It really reminds me of the emotions I felt when my grandad died of cancer. It was awful and I tried to pin the blame on people or things until I realized that death is, unfortunately, a part of life. So yeah. Let me know what you think in the comments. Also, let me know what bonus chapters you want. IDK if I've told y'all yet, but the bonus chapters are going to be moments in the story from Tyler's POV. I might even include some moments before the story takes place too if y'all want. Just let me know! Alright, love you guys and see y'all in the next update. This book is almost over believe it or not! Crazy.

Love y'all– Jordan

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