[ It's the kind of comfortable love where it's clear he's never questioned it, for all his grumbling at times. ]
...A year ago—or I guess a little less than two years, now—she fell really sick. It dragged on for months, and she... [ His voice trails off, and after a moment he seems to opt to just skip wherever that sentence was going entirely, like recalling it made him change his mind.] Eventually, every doctor or physician we got to see her basically told us...that she ought to settle her affairs before it was too late.
Then I turned 14, and one day I came back home to all my sisters gathered outside her room crying.
[ Nico's memories of his own mother are...confused. A lot of his past got sealed away for a while, then covered over with distance. But he did love her. It's just that Bianca is so much clearer in his mind. ]
Yeah. The day before, she told me we should go somewhere nice when she got better.
[ Even though by that point the writing was on the wall and everyone knew. He still doesn't know why she told him that, whether it was some attempt to comfort him or...
...It's weird to think that maybe she was trying to comfort herself. But he'll never know for sure. ]
After that, uh, I honestly don't remember much. My friend said I was kind of out of it up until the funeral.
[ It was alarming (going on autopilot and sort of dissociating, maybe), but it was indeed nowhere near as crazy as what Nico tried. ]
Yeah, and...okay, there was some kind of...festival the locals do, where they send off lanterns and apparently it lets you meet departed loved ones. I tried it.
I like to think it was, anyway. It was like...the year after she passed back home didn't happen. We went on that picnic by the beach like she said she wanted. And she looked like how she did before she was stuck in bed.
[ His voice starts to crack a bit as he talks, which is probably why he just left it at that. Goodness, when even this is making him feel emotional... ]
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[ It's the kind of comfortable love where it's clear he's never questioned it, for all his grumbling at times. ]
...A year ago—or I guess a little less than two years, now—she fell really sick. It dragged on for months, and she... [ His voice trails off, and after a moment he seems to opt to just skip wherever that sentence was going entirely, like recalling it made him change his mind.] Eventually, every doctor or physician we got to see her basically told us...that she ought to settle her affairs before it was too late.
Then I turned 14, and one day I came back home to all my sisters gathered outside her room crying.
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She'd passed away.
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[ Even though by that point the writing was on the wall and everyone knew. He still doesn't know why she told him that, whether it was some attempt to comfort him or...
...It's weird to think that maybe she was trying to comfort herself. But he'll never know for sure. ]
After that, uh, I honestly don't remember much. My friend said I was kind of out of it up until the funeral.
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...So you dreamt about her.
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Yeah, and...okay, there was some kind of...festival the locals do, where they send off lanterns and apparently it lets you meet departed loved ones. I tried it.
[ Probably why he dreamt about her. ]
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Do you think it was her?
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[ His voice starts to crack a bit as he talks, which is probably why he just left it at that. Goodness, when even this is making him feel emotional... ]
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[ Instead of the curses they sometimes get here. ]
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I guess. [ An attempt at some optimism, even if it feels a little half-hearted. ] ...Right now though, I just miss her a lot.
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He's not sure there are words to say, or at least not any right ones, so he squeezes Lark's hand. ]
I'm glad you got to see her again.
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Thanks. I think she would've been happy to meet you if she could.