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Prize fic written for Dragonfree over on Thousand Roads
CW//Character Death, grief, complicated relationships with parents
Contains major spoilers for Pokémon Scarlet and Violet
CW//Character Death, grief, complicated relationships with parents
Contains major spoilers for Pokémon Scarlet and Violet
There’s no casket at the front of the room. It’s just you up there on the podium.
The benches are out there, filled with people dressed in black, but they’re not with you. They’re watching you. The room is large and beige—your mother would have wanted this: a secular memorial service, praised by all for everything she contributed to science. She would have wanted her precious son speaking in her honour.
Well, that’s what everyone around you says, at least. And you never knew your mother—not really, at least—so you just accept it all as fact.
This whole eulogy thing you’re doing was done on a last-minute whim—friends and colleagues had all spoken about how wonderful she was, so why not her beloved son? You had no time to sort out your words, your thoughts, your feelings, nothing.
It’s time to… improvise.
“Mom was…” your mind blanks. Mom was what? Was mom even there? You don’t remember having a mom around to tell you when to go to bed, to tell you that you couldn’t eat ice cream for dinner, to tell you that ovens were hot and could set her precious books on fire—all of the things a mom was supposed to do. You just remember a dude and a lady fighting a lot when you were young, then the dude leaving, then the lady.
“...Mom was a professor, that’s for sure. She… sure did do professor stuff…” That somehow gets a chuckle out of a few people. You’re doing your job, you suppose.
But the people already know about Sada the professor. They want to know about Sada the mom.
“Well, I guess she was a mom. She gave birth to me and all that, and that makes her a mom by the rules of biology. She was a soon-to-be mom for nine months, a becoming-a-mom for twenty one hours, a mom for a few minutes, and a professor for the rest of her life.”
“Your mother truly loved you.”
You shrug the memory away. “It sounds like she was a good professor, all things considered. Lots of research on Area Zero. Cool stuff, cool stuff. But…”
Never speak ill of the dead, they say.
“I mean, a lot of moms work, you know? And I think that’s pretty cool. I think it’s cool that men and women and everyone can work and be a parent, rather than working and parenting being… gendered… things, you know? Feminism win.”
That gets a few more chuckles, and then laughs, and then claps. For the first time you can remember, you feel proud of yourself.
These people—some of them strangers—are giving you something she never gave you.
Validation.
“Mom, look at what I drew! Mom? Mom, don’t you like it?”
“Mom, can you help me with my homework?... Okay…”
“Mom, look! I caught my first Pokémon! Why won’t you look, mom? Mom? Mom?”
Maybe you should make something up. Maybe you should pretend she was there, pretend she cared about your short-lived art career, pretend she helped you with homework, pretend she noticed you.
“She… wasn’t always around the house, but when she left for work, I could know that she was… doing what was best for her. We all… need to do what’s best for us. We need to… grieve in whatever way is best for us, remember in whatever way is best for us, move on to whatever is best for us. That’s what Sada would have wanted.”
You bow, and everyone claps.
-
People say you’re wise beyond your years at the wake. They say you inherited Sada’s way with words, her eloquence, her skill.
You let them have that little illusion.
Someone invites you to dinner afterwards, but you turn them down. You have stuff to deal with at home, you say. You don’t really; legally, you’ve been able to live alone and take care of yourself for years. Whether you have parents or not, you’re going to live like you always have.
Sada was never a part of your life, and you don't have to change that.
