Log in

No account? Create an account
December 2018   01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31
stargate, DanielJackson

Week 22, Title: Better by far you should forget and smile

Posted on 2017.06.25 at 18:46
Tags: ,

A four-foot box, a foot for every year
- Seamus Heaney

Juanita screams. It’s not a cry. It’s a feral, angry thing. A mother lion reaching out to tear her too-young child from death’s maw.


Andy, almost catatonic, paws ineffectually at his clothes. Juanita, already dressed, pins the last strand of hair into place and then helps her partner out of his pyjamas and into his funeral suit.

Some family members comment on the horribly ironic sunshine of the day. She doesn’t think much of it.

Some friends mention Heaven. She doesn’t think much of that either.

Andy’s fingers are clasped onto hers, desperate. She finds it cloying. She can’t give him what he needs. She doesn’t have the strength.

Juanita stands up and says words and forces inflection into them. Forces the feeling her daughter, Marie, deserves. She feels empty.


She burns the photo in her wallet and throws the pictures on her desk in the trash. She can’t bear the reminder.

Their home is terrible, every room, every door, every piece of furniture has memories attached. She needs to pack up, start anew. She can’t carry on here. She can’t move on here.

“No,” Andy cries, voice cracking on the word, “We need to stay here, where she was.” He clutches Marie’s stegosaurus teddy bear to his chest. There are tears in his eyes.

They can’t support each other. It’s a stark realisation. Instead of holding the other up, they’re pulling them down.

They compromise. She moves all the things that remind her too much into Marie’s room. Andy builds a shrine there and never leaves. Juanita never enters. It hurts them both.


Juanita buries herself in work. She’s moving forward, moving on. This is her new life; her career. She gets home at eleven every night. Takes a few bites out of a microwave meal and puts the rest outside Marie’s door for Andy. And then crashes into bed. (At least this way she doesn’t have to think).

She should talk to Andy, she knows. What he’s doing isn’t healthy. (What she’s doing isn’t healthy either). But that would mean she’d have to talk about the happy little bubbly child they’ve lost. And she can’t. Can’t. Can’t.

They’re both dealing in their own ways that’s all. It takes time. It hasn’t been that long. Actually she’s not sure how long it’s been, as is the timelessness of grief.

They don’t talk anymore. Their opposing griefs crash into each other. It’s too painful. She hears him sometimes, talking to Marie like she’s there, burying himself in memories.


One night she finds Andy standing in Marie’s doorway. “We need to talk. What we’re doing here isn’t good for us.”

For a moment Juanita can’t speak. It’s too much. Too much. Too much. She takes one shuddery breath and another. “No. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“We need to process this,” Andy says.

“There is no processing this. It just is. Our daughter is dead. People aren’t supposed to lose their children. Your entire life revolves around them. And there’s other stuff, sure, but that… that doesn’t matter…that’s insignificant… like planets. And your child… is the sun. And now there’s…there’s just a hole where that part of you was. And there’s no fixing that. That will always be there. And all we can do is accept that and carry on.”  

“I can’t.”

“Well maybe it’s time you got a therapist.”


Juanita actually organises a therapist for Andy because he won’t for himself even if he wants it. They’re reluctant to come to the house, say it would be better if he came to them. But she talks at them until they agree. They send him to a psychiatrist who puts Andy on medication for depression.

She gets a promotion and Andy starts working from home.

At some point something dislodges and her work actually feels more fulfilling than a mere distraction.

They are getting better. But then the unnamed thing of their relationship needs to be addressed. Their grief has moulded them into strangers. Inhabiting the same space civilly, dealing alone.

The weight of their mutual abandonment in a time of such need is a painful one. And he is part of her old life. Another reminder.

She needs to decide, whether she tries to bridge the distance or walks away. It’s time to move on, she thinks. 


She finds a little studio flat with a view of more flats, but she likes it.

Juanita starts working saner hours than before. It gives her more time. She starts cooking again and going out with friends.

She finds a well-built man in a bar. And as he fucks her she remembers how much she loves Andy. It’s surprising. As though there was no room for love against the pull of grief. But that was long ago and too much has changed. She sighs when the man is done, wordlessly pulling her skirt and underwear back on and leaving.


Juanita sees Andy at a bus stop. It’s been years. She pauses between walking past and stopping and waits too long. They are different people now, with these holes inside them that they’ve papered over; that they’ve adjusted to. She doesn’t start with hello or how are you, the words spill from her as though she was nineteen again.

“We should go out. On a date.”

“We’re not who we used to be.” 

“So maybe we start again, new, from scratch.”

“And get to know each other. That makes sense. Coffee?”

She smiles. “Sure.”


Written for the topic 'Turn back or forge ahead?'


Teo Says
eternal_ot at 2017-06-26 06:56 (UTC) (Link)
Beautiful and so real. I loved it. Especially the end. Good Job with the prompt!
swirlsofblue at 2017-06-26 16:27 (UTC) (Link)
Thank you, so glad you found it beautiful and real :)
i_17bingo at 2017-06-26 12:57 (UTC) (Link)
That was painful, and I mean that in the best way. Grief is a monster that devours, and you did an amazing job of capturing that.
swirlsofblue at 2017-06-26 16:30 (UTC) (Link)
Thank you, glad you liked the way I captured grief. It is a terrible monster.
bleodswean at 2017-06-26 15:18 (UTC) (Link)
I was so surprised to see this end on that small bit of hope! And I was surprised at how happy that made me feel. After all the pain and despair and ruined hope. Great work on this emotional rollercoaster! It felt very true to life.
swirlsofblue at 2017-06-26 16:31 (UTC) (Link)
Thank you, so glad it felt true to life and that the ending made you feel happy :)
beeker121 at 2017-06-26 21:01 (UTC) (Link)
The grief here is powerfully described, the different ways it can be all-consuming. This hurt, in good ways, and then the hope. At least the re-connection for coffee if nothing else and being people again. This was one hell of a ride, nicely done.
swirlsofblue at 2017-06-27 16:25 (UTC) (Link)
Thank you, glad you found the description of grief powerful :)
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors
halfshellvenus at 2017-06-27 01:19 (UTC) (Link)
I really like how you used this prompt to show two different people's approaches to dealing with the same situation. Juanita thinks she's moving forward (she's not, she's avoiding), and Andy thinks he's retreating into mourning (he is, but he gives too much of himself over to it as time goes by).

with these holes inside them that they’ve papered over
Perfect description for such an awful state-- one that only gets better, with luck, but never fully goes away.

This whole scenario is every parent's fear...
swirlsofblue at 2017-06-27 16:27 (UTC) (Link)
Thank you, glad you liked the two different people's approaches. And so glad you liked that line :).

rayaso at 2017-06-28 13:15 (UTC) (Link)
This was such a heartbreaking story! I'm glad for the ending, and the possibility (however small) of a reunion. The phrase "Their opposing griefs crash into each other" was excellent, and summed up their relationship perfectly. People process grief differently, and you did a great job describing a shrine-builder v. someone who has to move on.
swirlsofblue at 2017-06-28 16:51 (UTC) (Link)
Thank you, so glad you liked my use of that phrase and my descriptions of different grieving processes :)
murielle at 2017-06-29 21:34 (UTC) (Link)
This is just wonderful! I love that you brought the together again, but they needed to heal on their own. And you drew it beautifully. This is a truly truthful and intimate examination of love under the pressure of terrible grief. Brava! Brava!
swirlsofblue at 2017-06-30 16:45 (UTC) (Link)
Thank you for the lovely compliments, so glad you found it truthful :)
flipflop_diva at 2017-06-29 23:55 (UTC) (Link)
This was so hard to read, mostly because it hurt in all the right places. It perfectly captured the essence of grief and how it's so easy to let it consume you and your life and tear everything apart.

I like how we see her move on step by step, including the realization of loving Andy still after sex with the stranger. And I really liked the end. It's a nice bit of hope after the crushing sadness of what came before.
swirlsofblue at 2017-06-30 16:46 (UTC) (Link)
Thank you, so glad you liked the way I portrayed grief.
marlawentmad at 2017-06-30 00:10 (UTC) (Link)
I really love the turn at the end. I think we would all be a lot more connected if we allowed ourselves to realize we are not concrete identities. This is such a hopeful place to end.
swirlsofblue at 2017-06-30 16:47 (UTC) (Link)
Thank you, glad you liked the ending :)
Previous Entry  Next Entry