He fed us when we forgot to eat, and he began our therapy early. Instead of letting us wallow in sorrow, he found every painting Clara had ever created, every picture of her, every macaroni glued statue she’d done at school and made Clue and me tell him stories of my daughter.
He reminded us she would never be gone as long as we kept her alive in our thoughts, and we had to remember the good not the bad. We had to keep living for her.
A few days after Clara’s death, Clue received a phone call that shot life back into her. She went from couch potato to a whirlwind of efficiency and threw herself into arranging the most perfect funeral any little girl could want.
I looked over at my non-blood sister. The breeze ruffled her straight black hair and tears glistened in her eyes. She nodded, feeling the same bond, the same need to remind ourselves we were there for each other.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “For this. For everything.”
“Don’t thank me. There’s someone else you should thank, too.”
I looked over my shoulder at Ben. He looked regal and dapper in a black suit, black shirt, and the requisite My Little Pony badge over his heart. The funeral was in Clara’s honour—and My Little Pony had been her favourite.
My heart squeezed hard, threatening to send me keeling over.
I can’t do this.
I wrapped my arms tighter around myself, gathering the black mournful dress I wore and holding the shattered pieces of my heart.
Don’t cry.
I’d shed more tears the past week than I ever thought possible. I should’ve shrivelled into a husk with the amount of water I expelled. But no matter how much I wailed and cursed, I didn’t feel better. The tears escaped, but my sorrow didn’t. It sat festering in my soul, mixing with loneliness and slow building hatred for the man who’d left me when I needed him the most.
After everything I’d sacrificed for him. After everything I’d given him, he couldn’t bring himself to even attend Clara’s funeral. I’d not only lost my daughter forever, but him, too. I would never forgive him for leaving me to face this without him.
Not once did I think about the baby inside me. Not once did I turn to Clue or Ben and tell them the news. I wanted to forget. I wished I wasn’t pregnant. I wanted life to stop and leave me the f**k alone. Nothing else existed but the death of my daughter.
“Don’t feel sad, mummy. I don’t want you to feel sad.”
Sunshine suddenly pierced through the rolling grey clouds like a giant spotlight. The bright ray landed on a beautiful horse with a red-speckled coat and pink mane and tail. A roan.
My heart flopped thinking of a little red-haired boy who’d lost his entire family only to turn around and watch me lose mine. Where had he gone? What the hell was he doing?
What was more important than being here to say goodbye?
More rays of sun beamed through clouds, turning the rolling meadows into glittering green blades, swaying gently with the breeze. The horses glowed like equine jewels, and I knew this was the right place for Clara. Nowhere else would’ve fit.
I didn’t know how Clue managed to find such an idyllic spot. I hadn’t bothered to ask. If Clue hadn’t helped me arrange everything, I would probably be mummified lying on Clara’s bed staring at the ceiling.
“Come on, Zelly. It’s about to start.” Clue wrapped an arm around my waist. I gave her a watery smile and let her guide me to a small semi-circle of black-shrouded people.
Everyone wore a My Little Pony item and the flowers dotting the small group were arrangements of ponies of different colours. Some unicorns, some with wings, some glitter-filled, some glow in the dark.
Clue and I had scoured all the toy shops and second-hand sellers for as many My Little Ponies as possible. There were so many I had no idea what I’d do with them afterward.
The reverend began to talk, and I tuned out. Ignoring the small huddle of children from Clara’s school and a few teachers who’d come to say goodbye, I stared at the horses. So powerful but delicate. So strong but gentle.
They hypnotised me as the service droned on and on. I didn’t need to know how miraculous Clara had been. I’d lived it.
“I’m tired. I’m going to sleep now.”
Finally, the reverend’s sermon came to an end and arms went around me. I shut myself down, focusing only on the animals my daughter loved more than anything in the world. I couldn’t stand people touching me, consoling me.
Once the final stranger had hugged me and a hushed expectation filled the air, I panicked.
I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t do this.
I’m not ready!
The reverend walked toward me, and I took a step back, shaking my head. He took my arms gently and laid the hand-painted urn in my hands.
It was cold and lifeless and my façade broke. A single tear streaked down my face knowing I would never hold Clara again. Never see her smile or laugh or grow.
“Don’t be mad at him, mummy. He needs you.”
My sadness switched to anger. Him. He did this. The man who loved my daughter so fiercely, he made the clock tick faster—take her quicker than I ever wanted.
My mind tried to tell me it was a blessing. That she’d gone before being paraded through hospitals or prodded by merciless doctors. She was free now. But the mother in me couldn’t see it that way. It didn’t matter that she was in a better place and eternal. All that mattered was she was dead.
And Fox ran.
Standing in the patch of sun, hugging the urn of my daughter’s ashes, I tried to cry. I wanted to rain tears on the field just like the sky had before. I wanted to let every crushing thing inside out.
But nothing happened. I just existed in hell.
An image of a new child filled my mind. Instead of a little girl, I pictured a boy. An innocent infant who would never know his big sister. The picture stabbed my heart. I didn’t want him. I didn’t want the responsibility of loving something more than life itself only to run the risk of losing him just like Clara.
I didn’t have the strength. My life had hit rewind and replay, leaving me at the beginning again with endless heartache, no future, and a baby growing inside me.
A horse flicked its tail and cantered forward. The burst of life cast away my worry of the future, and I turned inward. I wasn’t ready, but it was time to say goodbye.
Closing my eyes, I whispered, “I wish you hadn’t left me. I wish you were still here. I can’t go on without you. I can’t live without you near. How am I supposed to go on, Clara? How am I supposed to survive?”