Simon Says:
I have never written in this genre before but decided to give it a shot because of a person I met through Literotica who loves this theme. So, this is dedicated to M who inspired me to try this.
Standard stuff -- I am about slow burns.
Happy reading.
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The clouds let up a little to allow some slivers of sunshine. It didn't feel like a day that should have much in the way of sunshine, but then that was the way she was -- bringing a little bit of happiness even when all seemed lost. And she actually liked the rain, so, overall, maybe this was the perfect day for her.
"John, it's time."
I turned to see Rob poking his head through the door. He gave me a grim nod and disappeared back into the church.
I took a deep breath, straightened my tie, and then headed inside to join the other five pall bearers in the back of the church.
The church looked absolutely packed. That was the kind of woman Ellen was - she impacted everyone, kind of as a center of the community, so everyone obviously came to celebrate her life.
I stood at the front of my line, with Rob right next to me. Rob and I had been friends since I dated Julie, his sister, over twenty years ago. He remained my friend when she became my fiancé, then my wife, then the mother of my little girl, and finally my ex-wife when she decided to leave me for a younger guy and a new life. Like his mom Ellen, he accepted me and kept me in the family even when Julie left. They all became family to me.
I squeezed his shoulder in support, he gave me an appreciative nod, and then we walked forward in the official processional.
I knew maybe half the people assembled in the church that day and found myself locking eyes with and politely nodding to many as I walked by. Close to the front, Rob's wife Jen stepped into the aisle and hugged both Rob and me. She had become a very close friend too, really.
My own family lacked in closeness, so I cherished Rob, Jen, Ellen, and Rob Sr welcoming me into theirs-- all holidays, my birthdays, random family gatherings, constant phone calls, and attending every event that Leah and I valued as important, especially after Julie left.
So yes, Ellen being gone hurt me almost as much as it did Rob and Jen.
I saw Julie towards the front. Leah did not sit next to her, but then that was not a surprise. Julie met my gaze briefly, barely acknowledged me, then turned back towards the front.
These would usually be the times a husband and wife would comfort each other, but not in this instance. Not today.
I continued to scan the crowd until I saw Leah.
Leah's dark blonde hair, usually pulled back into some sort of ponytail, loosely framed her pretty face. Her brown eyes met mine, but unlike her mother she kept them locked on mine for a bit longer. She gave me a sad nod, that accompanied the obvious tears that remained on her cheeks.
We placed the casket in the front. I immediately shifted out of my spot to go sit next to her in the front row, the rest of the pall bearers sitting to my lift. Leah didn't immediately respond to my presence, but she finally shifted a little closer so that we barely touched. She had not ever been very physical with me, certainly not recently, but something like this would obviously cause her to be a little needier. Absolutely fine with me.
In fact, I really wanted it. I missed her. Us.
The service was lovely. Several speakers stood at different portions, slides ran in the background covering the last seventy years of Ellen's life, and many shed tears even amongst the stories of Ellen's more humorous antics that also resulted in chuckling and giggling.
Leah remained quiet and still.
Rob and Jen had wanted me to speak, but I knew that would not be good. The extended family had split into factions siding either with Julie or me, and I did not want our drama to take away from any celebration of Ellen. So instead, I wrote the speech and gave copies to Jen, Rob, and Leah. Jen and Rob read it immediately and cried. Leah took it. Not sure if she had read it yet, but I seriously do not think so. That she had it was enough for me, I think. Maybe not.
Honestly, with Rob Sr passed two years before, the already existing drama would mire down the estate business without me contributing anything else to it. It absolutely made sense for me to be quiet. And instead, I focused on the two important females in my life -- the one we were celebrating a life well lived, and the other I so wanted to return to much happier times with. I was missing both of them.
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"Did you want to get anything to eat on the way home?"
Leah shook her head without looking at me as she buckled her seat belt, "no thanks," she mumbled, obviously lost in thought, likely thinking hard about Ellen and not much else.
I started up the car and shifted into drive to head towards the house.
Leah hadn't spoken much since her grandmother's health had diminished in the past few weeks, and barely at all once she passed. And so, I sat silently in the seat, slowly making my way out of the parking lot, wondering what I could say to her.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see my beautiful daughter staring quietly out the window.
I remembered the days she would hug and kiss me goodnight, the days we would laugh together over the most ridiculous things, the days she would just sit next to me and pull my arm around her. Sometimes we were so in-sync that we didn't need to say much at all. We knew what each other meant or were thinking just by locking gazes, followed by fits of giggling.
And now? I missed her so much, and yet we slept across the hall from each other. We ate together, briefly spoke to each other, and then went our separate ways. And I didn't know what to do.
I realize once your daughter turns eighteen that the relationship was supposed to shift, but I guess adding into that the fact her mother walked out just amplified the new division between us.
We didn't live far from the church, so the drive was short.
She immediately stepped out of the car and made a beeline for the house. I knew I would probably not see her for the rest of the day.
I changed clothes into jeans and a t-shirt and settled on the couch. My mind tried to process the loss of Ellen. From a selfish point of view, the loss of Ellen would be felt for a very long time. I just felt this deep sadness at her no longer being in my life.
Leah had grown distant, detached, or something, after Julie left. I was positive she blamed me for Julie deciding to leave and no matter what I tried to do I just could not think of a way to get past it. The day after Julie walked out, Leah went into her room and closed her door, and it felt like days until it opened again.
Seemingly after that, for the last six months, she tolerated me. I paid the bills and supported her, and she occasionally spoke with me. I guess I grew to be OK with the arrangement, mostly because it seemed better than the alternative. I loved her, so I was willing to do whatever was needed. And I could show her I loved her by giving her lots of space and supporting her. She didn't really want to have anything to do with me, but the little moments we crossed paths were at least something.
At times, it surprised me that she didn't go live with Julie instead, but she really seemed to not want to talk to her mom at all. Her mom would call, and Leah would just silently shake her head. Julie assumed I turned Leah against her, but I made an inner-vow to not speak ill of her mother to Leah. She should form her own opinions, no matter how much Julie hurt me. And apparently, she did.
Maybe she just really equally hated both of us. Who could blame her, right? Julie and I both played our part in fucking things up.
So, Ellen had become a nearly daily support for my daughter after her mother walked out of our lives a half a year ago, since I obviously could not be that emotional supporter that she needed. They talked daily at least on the phone, one of those times always right before bed. They were close before, but after my split with Julie they were almost inseparable.
She needed a woman's wisdom, and obviously I did not meet the requirements for that. I accepted it. Plus, with Leah resenting me for Julie leaving, our relationship shifted dramatically that day it all fell apart. I desperately wished things had been different, like when my little girl could not spend enough time in my lap.
How could I get back to that? Likely never. The window had closed.
I never felt equipped for this kind of stuff -- reading women, knowing what to say when, expressing myself. And without Ellen as my sensible advisor and support, I just didn't even know what to do now.
Ellen's passing and its subsequent impact on Leah was exactly the sort of thing that usually would prompt me to call Ellen to ask for advice.
I looked down the hallway. I could barely see her door from the couch.
She was there, twenty feet away. My little girl. The last important woman in my life. The last important person, really. And here I sat at a loss.
Ellen, the wisest person I had ever known, had given me lots of motherly advice over the years, especially after Julie left. The one that she emphasized all the time was that you do what had to be done for the ones you love. Seemed simple enough, but in many ways it proved to be a daily choice, sacrificing for love, she would explain.
I tried with Julie, even when she walked out. I felt willing to do anything for our marriage, to repair it, rebuild it, or even completely start over, but Julie was having none of it. I set up marriage counseling appointments, meetings with mutual friends and mediators, and even tried to get her to sit down with her mother and me, and she would never show. She refused to speak about the why and the what with her friends, her family, her pastor, and even Ellen. Julie shut down. Completely. And I was definitely no longer invited into her world.
The more extended family who knew none of the details assumed the worst of me, the outsider, the suburbanite who transplanted to their rural community. I didn't know their ways. I didn't share their values. Obviously, I had an affair or abused Julie or something quite terrible. Ellen, Jen, and Rob tried to correct those misconceptions, but people see what they wanted to see.
And now with Leah...
What would Ellen advise me to do right now?
Leah shouldn't be completely alone. She obviously needed comfort. And with Ellen gone, her stability was too. But could I be that at all for her? More than my own feelings, I hated to see her hurt.
