TW: mentions of death, loss
The little toil of love, I thought,
Was large enough for me.--E. DICKINSON
The service in Hanover had long since been over for Wolfgang who they had buried below in earth and clay, leaving him to rest in the family plot. It hadn't been much convincing to do so, however, Gabrielle had urged Ignan to aid her in one small favour. She had noticed in those eyes that hid everything below, too often stern and difficult, looking back to her own that was filled with a simple desire to fulfill a request that had been in her mind for many years. Truly, her grandfather nor her other relatives had ever pushed the idea on Gabrielle -- in fact, they had always been somehow pleased to know Amelia was at rest wherever her spirit roamed considering the grief Merik had caused them by his iron grip.
Brilliant, beautiful Amelia. The daughter with a lovesickness that ne'er had been cured.
Upon his deathbed, Christopher Murray confessed losing Mina and losing Amelia had very nearly wanted to end his life himself as a wish to reunite with his daughters, but the sight of little Gabrielle and of Quincey made him realise that his grandchildren, his remaining children, and his family needed him to remain strong. Likewise in his final moments of breath, the good healer wished that he could have spent one day more with his daughters, to urge how he loved them and that perhaps he could have found where Amelia's remains were as to bring them home to the clan. To let them rest forever away from the grief and gloom in Germany.
No one, until now, had ever chosen to respect the wishes, not until now.
It was basic, the
headstone. Unmarked save a dove ascending to the heavens and a stony vase, it bore no name, no fond words of 'faithful' or 'beloved' -- just simply the three elements of concrete. And yet, Gabrielle knew who this was meant for. It wasn't near Merik or Wolfgang, Medgar or any of the others; it stood alone much like Gabrielle assumed Amelia often had felt when left feeling like she was treated poorly, icily.
"Hullo, Aunt Amelia. It's me....Gabrielle. It's b-been a while, I admit. It took some major courage to muster this one up, hm? Had to convince Ignan that I wasn't going to do anything bad to your spot or you in general. You'd be so proud of him, aunt. He's very mysterious and sometimes a little too serious for my tastes, but deep down,
way down at that, he's a Murray. He's a good man when he wants to be." Rubbing her nose to keep the runny nose syndrome from happening while the tears formed, Gabrielle smiled weakly. "Your brother's stuck in the Isle of Man and well, I'm the only one left in the house other than the paintings, Imp, and when Uncle Thackery visits, which is hardly ever. Or if Quincey sends anything through the post. It gets lonely there -- I'm glad for that reason I have someone who loves me. You would love him as I'm sure Mother would have as well. He's very good to me and I couldn't be happier for that."
The bold face, the facade was beginning to crumble, her voice trembling with hurt and anger as Gabrielle continued to speak.
"Why, though.....
why did you and Mother's happiness have to be sacrificed because of jealousy? Of greed and anger? You were very happy indeed. The pictures I see of you cradling me and you, Mother grinning happily to the sight. It's not fair what happened to you and I still wish I knew the truth. I wish you could have found better rest than this, but. I know as Grandfather knew. You're at peace and I hope you'll always be at peace, Aunt Amelia. Now that I know where to find you at least here, I'll visit you more often, talk to you and smile at the good times you had when you were living."
A small brisk of air rippled nearby, fluffing her robes for a moment, causing Gabrielle to smile more genuinely, wiping her tears away shortly thereafter. "I'll take that as a yes. For now, I'm afraid, I'll have to go, auntie. Do know we love you so very much and are so grateful for what you were to our family." Raising her wand, directing it shortly to the concrete vase, a small bouquet of white gladiolus
[1] soon lying gently in its care. Moving two fingers from lips to tombstone, Gabrielle left a kiss.
"We'll talk again soon. Until then, dear."
Moving away a few steps, Gabrielle walked away from the site, her heart a bit heavy, but likewise a great deal more relieved that a promise was now to be fulfilled.
[Oct 13th] the little toil of love.