Adrian’s death was not sudden or unexpected. He lived long and he lived well. He’s got to spend his life with the woman of his dreams. He’s got to invest his time into things he loved best – sport, jokes and his family. He’s got to see his children grow up, marry and pursue their own dreams. He’s got to meet his grandchildren.
He died with a triumphant smile on his face, surrounded by those who were dear to him.
Adrian was ready to leave.
His family, however, was not ready for the overwhelming grief that came with his death. Because nothing, not even the sparkling age bar, can prepare a sim for such a heartbreak.
Even the simplest, everyday tasks seemed impossible to achieve. The food was stale, the air was heavy and the things that used to be joyous were just reminding them of their pain.
Days were long. Endless. Unbearable. Everything looked small and irrelevant in comparison with the sadness they were drowning in.
They sought solace in each other’s presence but the weeping eyes of their loved ones only offered the reflections of their own sorrow.
They were lost. Lost and helpless.
Melia was especially devastated. She was missing her Dad like everyone else, but she was also hurting from seeing her family so blue. She was the heir, after all. It was her responsibility to keep their spirits up – to encourage them and to support them and to show them how to carry on.
But she had no strenght to do so. And she felt terrible because of it.
Melia barely spoke to anyone in the house. She didn’t want to annoy them with her worries – they were already having a hard time without hearing about her problems.
“But maybe it would help if I talked to someone relatively unaffected by all this,” she thought to herself while doing the dishes and she decided to call Alexander.
He showed up before she was done with the kitchen. One look at her worn out face was enough for him to realize that something was going on.
Alexander already lost his parents so he knew whatever he’d say couldn’t ease the pain. Melia and her family needed time and support, not polite words.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She sighed, fighting off the tears: “I don’t know. I just feel like I should do something for them, help them through hard times. But I don’t know what to do. I’m having troubles just trying to make the household works, you see – it cost me so much energy to make sure if they are eating well and doing their homeworks that I barely can do anything else.”
Alexander was a bit sceptical – he wasn’t close with anyone in the family. And to interfere with their grieving process was the last thing he wanted to do. But Mel looked really exhausted and lonely.
And so Alexander moved in.
Meanwhile, Camilla was also having a hard time. Not even mischief could distract her.
Luckily, she had a friend. Alfred noticed she wasn’t her usual reckless self in school, so he came to check on her one day after work, just to make sure she’s alright.
Camilla looked at him, startled, but he continued before she could reason with him.
With those words she left, sobbing. Poor Alfred was just standing there, wondering if he should follow her or leave and talk to her on another day.
And when he finally decided for the latter, he unexpectedly ran into Dory.
“Besides,” Dory continued, trying to prevent her voice from cracking,”you know what they say: grief is a price we pay for love. And we’ll have to pay a lot for all the love Dad gave us.”
So much truth and insight in this chapter! Adrian was indeed really loved. And I’m really glad for Alexander and Alfred. The family need all the love and support they need right now. 🙂
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His death hit me hard, I must admit. I didn’t cry, but I had no motivation to write again, really.
And yes, support was needed – without Adrian’s handiness, all toilets were broken constantly, haha.
(And I don’t want to sound desperate, but I’m so glad you’re reading again! I got so used to your sweet comments that it was a bit weird to write without your feedback. 🙂 )
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Aww! I’m glad to be back reading! 🙂
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(Too sad to comment… 😦 )
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