Page 92 of Lassoed Love

“I miss you so much, Mum,” I choke. “The clinic is going well, and I wish you could see the animals. You would have loved them,” I say, my voice trembling. “I... I still struggle, you know? But being back home has brought some peace.”

“And Xavier—he’s... he’s been a light in this darkness. I can’t help but feel like things just might be coming together, but it hurts that you’re not here to see it.” I sigh. “Oh, Mum, I wish you could meet him now. He’s so... just so different. Not what I expected at all,” my voice falters, breaking.

“I think Dad is still trying to wrap his head around it, but, Mum, he’s just all man—protective and so caring. I feel like you would haveliked him.”

A heavy silence hangs in the air, the weight of my emotions palpable as I continue our one-sided conversation. Wiping away tears with the back of my hand, I take a shaky breath and lower my gaze to the ground.

“I've missed you so much, especially during those dark days in the city. Life was overwhelming, and I felt so lost. Xavier’s been a constant support.” Leaning closer to the tombstone, as if sharing a secret, I add, “He makes me feel safe, in a way I never thought possible.”

With a sigh, I continue to update Mum on the intricacies of my life, the pain of her absence mingling with the hope that she can somehow hear my words from wherever she is.

As I sit before Mum’s tombstone, tears stream down my face, and my voice trembles with emotion. “Dad,” I sigh. “Argh, he’s sick, Mum. Like Nan and Pop. It’s all myfault—I should never have left.”

A sob breaks free, and I continue to cry, allowing the pain I’ve kept bottled up to spill out. The cemetery echoes with my cries, a silent testament to the weight on my shoulders.

“He’s been forgetting, Mum, thinking that you’re still alive,” I confess, my voice choking with grief.

“He has meltdowns, anger bursts. I can’t cope, Mum. I’m trying my best to be there for him, comfort him the moments when he needs it, but I—” I sigh heavily. “What should I do?”

The air remains silent, offering no answers to my desperate questions. I feel a deep sense of helplessness, my heart aching for my fatherand the struggles he faces.

“I just need help,” I cry harder, the weight of my emotions pouring out like a flood.

“I don’t know how to handle this. I’m stuck, and it feels like everything is falling apart. I wish you were here, Mum. I need your guidance more than ever.”

As I sit in the silent embrace of the graveyard, my tears gradually subside, leaving behind a dull ache in my chest. The wind rustles the leaves on the nearby trees, offering a soft, comforting hum that seems to echo the quiet solace I seek.

After a while, I glance at the time on my phone and realise that I should probably head off. The responsibilities of daily life call, and the clinic awaits. Work is a necessary distraction, a way to temporarily escape the heavy burdens that weigh on my shoulders. I stand up, brushing off the dirt from my jeans, and take one last look at Mum’s tombstone.

“I’ll be back soon, Mum,” I whisper, my voice carrying a mix of determination and sadness. “I promise.”

Turning away, I walk back to my car, the memories of our conversation lingering in the air. The drive to the clinic is quiet, the weight of my thoughts accompanied only by the rhythmic hum of my car’s engine.

As I pull into the clinic’s parking lot, I take a deep breath, preparing to face the challenges that lie ahead. With each step toward the entrance, I carry the memories of Mum and the weight of my father’s struggles.

Work becomes a refuge, a place where I can momentarily escape the complexities of life. The routine tasks at the clinic provide a sense of normalcy, a temporary respite from the emotional storm brewing within.

Deep down, I know that I’ll be back at the cemetery, seeking solace and sharing my thoughts with Mum. Until then, life must go on, and I embrace the challenges that await me at the clinic.

After a busy day at the animal hospital, where the tasks ranged from treating adorable puppies to comforting distressed pet owners, I found myself mentally drained. The clinic had been bustling with activity, but my mind kept drifting to the lingering worries about Dad and the challenges he faced with his deteriorating health.

During the afternoon, Xavier’s calls interrupted the steady rhythm of my day. I answered reluctantly, not in the mood for conversation. Despite his persistence, I couldn’t find the energy to engage, offering only short and clipped responses. He sensed mysombre mood but didn’t press further, respecting my need for space.

As evening settles in, Xavier has invited himself over, declaring his intention to spend the night at my place. Now, we sit on the couch, wrapped in the comfort of each other’s presence. An episode of ‘New Girl’ plays on the screen, providing a distraction from the weighty thoughts that linger in the corners of my mind.

Xavier, ever curious and eager, begins asking questions about the show. “So… who’s your favourite character?” he inquires, attempting to draw me into a more lighthearted conversation. I respond with brief replies, my mind unable to fully engage in the banter.

Sensing my detachment, Xavier turns to look at me, his concern evident in his gaze.

“Hey, what’s up with you? What’s wrong?” he asks, his brows now furrowed and his voice laced with concern—yet gentle and reassuring. I hesitate, the words caught in my throat. His persistence nudges me to open up.

“It’s just... Dad. His health isn’t getting any better, and I don't know how to handle it. I feel so helpless,” I sigh. “I–he just needs to see a doctor, badly—” I mutter as I shake my head. “That’s a battle I just know I won’t win.”

Xavier listens attentively, his presence a comforting anchor. He reaches over, gently squeezing my hand as a silent gesture of understanding.

“I’m sorry, baby, that you’re going through this,” he says softly, his rugged features softening in empathy.

“I visited Mum this morning,” I continue. “I just needed to talk to her, you know?” I whisper, and he nods, murmuring, “Of course.”

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