Grace felt alienated when she returned home for spring break. Most students longed to get time away from school, regardless of whether they were visiting parents and other members of their family. Grace did indeed have some amount of excitement for her trip home, but most this excitement was overshadowed by a sense of uncertainty. The reprieve she had felt from her trip to see the Magpies v. Falcons with  George quickly washed into the realization that this might be the very last trip that she might see her mother alive.

Grace's brother, Cadan, met her at the London terminal, and the two had continued on to travel the muggle transit system until they eventually reached Penzance, the western most village in Cornwall. Grace and Cadan exited the Penzance transit station, ready for the familiar walk to Gulval, which was technically still considered to be a suburb in modern day UK. When she was younger, Grace remembered enjoying such trips with her brother immensity because they broadened her experiences from her hometown and also because they were with her brother, who she admired and wanted to follow everywhere. Cadan, to his credit, had been patient with his much  younger sister and never seemed to mind that she wanted to tag along with him everywhere.

This walk to the quaint town of Gulval was silent and awkward at times, but not without its moments of enjoyment and appreciation for the surroundings. Grace was very happy that she was a witch and attending Hogwarts. But she  often wondered what her life would be like had she never accepted her letter to the wizarding school and if she had continued to live as a  muggle.

Would she have attended Cambridge or Oxford? Both of her parents had worked very hard to become college educated and career oriented. They were respected members of the small community of Gulval, even if they were considered to be part of the poorer, working class. They were dependable, strong and hardworking, every bit the traits and legacy that Grace portrayed in the wizarding world.

Still, Grace was reluctant to return to Gulval. The town was small enough where everyone knew everyone else's business. Her mother's sickness was well known and most were simply waiting news on the next leg of Eugenia Eddy's cancer treatment. No one really considered that the woman would ever not be a part of their beloved community any longer, mainly because Grace's mother was seen as such a strong and determined woman, surely capable of putting a disease like cancer in its place.

The sad truth was that even with Eugenia's best efforts, it wasn't enough...

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NOTE: Even though I probably still could have posted this normally, I like the idea of keeping this plot moving forward. And I do like the idea of this set of posts being  preserved as Grace's memories...

Grace's bedroom at home was minimalist in nature which reflected both her personality and also the amount of time she spent there in recent years. When Grace was five, she had demanded that it be painted blue after declaring quite emphatically, “Pink is ugly.” It was a sentiment that had not waned even to the present day. Stepping into the unlit blue hued room, the afternoon sun peeked in through the window and danced off the walls and even across the white headboard of her bed. In the same instance, the room exuded melancholy and hope in the mixture of lightness and darkness carrying throughout.

Grace set her suitcase on the bed and her eyes moved to each piece of furniture in turn—the bed, the dresser, the wooden chest by the window. Her gaze lingered on the chest and something magnetic about it pulled her over to stand in front of it. She glanced away for a moment to look outside her window and into the backyard that she had played in as a child, often under her mother's watchful eye. Like a Muggle movie, Grace felt like hazy scenes from her youth were playing out before her in succession. So many life milestones had been with her mother's support and guidance—including her decision to enter into the Magical world—and now it was slowly starting to sink in that that presence, that beautiful grace, was going to end soon.

Grace swallowed hard and then let her eyes flit downward again to the chest—her mother's chest with an “E” chiseled into the old wood. Grace knelt beside it and carefully reached out to touch its smooth, glossy finish. After a moment of tracing and retracing the letter, Grace finally pushed open the lid to the chest. Immediately upon seeing the first item she saw, a bittersweet smile curled on her lips.

It was a picture of her mother when she was young, probably only a year or two younger than Grace was now, huddled together with the rest of her siblings. Eugenia Eddy was vibrant and youthful and even in a captured moment, quite carefree and happy.

Grace sat there for a long while—until her father called her down to dinner—sifting through the memories of her mother throughout her vibrant and youthful and carefree and happy lifetime. Grace knew that even if the next few months were going to be hard, she always wanted to remember her mother like that.

A hospice service had been set up for the Eddy family not long after it the doctors felt that there little more to be done for Eugenia in terms of treatment. Now it was just making sure that she had a decent quality of life in her final months. Eugenia had been determined to make the most of her time, spending quite a bit of it on her hobbies and also writing in journals for her husband, children and other beloved family members. By the time the spring holiday rolled around, she was beginning to show visible signs of her ailment, but she refused to allow the hospice care to start coming into the home until after Grace's trip. Her hope was that the family would be able to enjoy what she believed would be their last vacation time together without the constant reminder of how serious the situation was. 

But Grace could tell that her mother was far from well as soon as she saw her. Eugenia looked pale and frail and felt so small when Grace hugged her. For a woman who once had considerable curves and flesh on her bones for most of her life, Eugenia now looked like a gaunt and hallowed version of her self. It took Grace's breath away to be in her mother's presence and to see her like that because Grace could not help but feel like the woman was more close to being dead than she was to being fully alive. This was a thought she pushed from her mind as quickly as it came.

On that first night back following dinner, Grace sat with her mother in the living room, each reading their own book in front of a cozy little fire. But the wide array of unsettling thoughts about her mother's condition simply would not leave Grace alone and it made it difficult for her to concentrate on the words she was reading. After nearly a half hour of not being able to make any progress, Grace sighed heavily in frustration.
The fact that no pages had been turned in a while had not escaped Eugenia Eddy's watchful attention. She was adept at reading the body language and behaviors of her children, even if they were grown up young people at this stage in life. They had needed less of her mothering over the years and she was so proud of who they had become.

Watching Grace for a long moment, Eugenia finally spoke, her voice meekly cutting the silence. “Grace.” Her words seemed to startle Grace and her daughter's dark eyes finally raised so Eugenia could hold her gaze. She patted the couch next to her, beckoning Grace to come sit beside her. “Come. Sit.”

Grace's automatic response was to shake her head. “It's okay. I'm fine here.”

The truth was that Grace was scared to sit next to her mother. She knew that there was a strong possibility that she would fall apart and she didn't want her mother to see that. Not now. Not in her state.

“Grace Merryn Eddy. Come. Sit.” Eugenia Eddy's voice was surprisingly firm and for a brief moment, her face showed considerable strength. She rarely used Grace's full name and when she had in the past, she usually meant business or she was scolding her daughter. It had been a long time since Grace had needed that, Eugenia realized. But now was as good a time as any as it was clear that it had also been a long time since Grace had needed her to provide a shoulder on which to cry. Obviously the situation was far from ideal, but Eugenia knew she needed to make the most of the time she had left.

She struggled to get herself into a seated position and patiently waited for her daughter to slide onto the couch next to her. Eugenia smoothed out the blanket she had covering her legs. “I know it's getting harder and harder for you the closer it's getting.”

Grace winced. “Dont say that,” she whispered.

Eugenia's arm went around Grace's shoulder and she hugged the girl closer to her, even if it caused her some discomfort. Eugenia then pressed her lips to Grace's forehead. “Oh sweetie,” she said, her voice softening in that motherly way. “I know you don't want to hear that, but it is true; it is getting close."

“Don't say that,” Grace repeated angrily. Her jaw trembled and she wanted nothing more than to pull away from her mother because she knew that if she didn't, she was liable to break down and cry on the spot. She looked down at her hands in her lap and she clenched her jaw to keep her emotions in check. But her vision was quickly blurring with tears and Grace had to close her eyes tight to keep them from spilling forward.

Swallowing hard, Eugenia kissed Grace's brow again and stroked her long, firey hair. “But I'm so tired, my love. I don't want to fight anymore. I know you don't want to hear that but I just don't have the energy to keep fighting. I just can't.”

There was so much that Grace wanted to say to her mother, and yet she could hardly find the words. She was both angry and sad and she had no idea how to express it all. Certainly not in a way that wouldn't hurt so much.

Eugenia sighed, searching for something to say that would help console her daughter who was struggling so much with this, even as she tried to hide it. Finally, Eugenia's voice game again, this time as barely more than a raspy whisper. “You are so much stronger than I am. Your father tells me all the time that you get it from me, but sometimes even I am amazed with your determination and your strength. So beautiful and strong....I am so proud of you.”

Grace didn't say anything because by now she was clearly fighting back her tears. She didn't know if she could accept her mother's characterization of who she was because she certainly didn't feel beautiful and strong in that moment. In fact, she was feeling so weak or that the overwhelming emotion that threatened to pour forth would make her seem weak. It was hard for her to accept that she was allowed to express the depths of her grief over what was happening.

But slowly, in the safety of her mother's embrace, Grace seemed to understand that it was okay to let go. She took a deep, shuddering breath and some tears did begin to fall. She hastily brushed them away and whispered, “It's not fair, maither. It's all not fair.”

“What”s not fair?”

“Everything.”

The woman sighed and did her best to hold Grace a little bit tighter. “I know it's not. But it's life. And you'll get through it, I know you will.” Eugenia closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “It'll be okay,” she assured her. She breathed, “You'll be fine....my daughter.....my baby.....my lovely, lovely Grace...”