Ivan’s POV: Funeral Service.
DAY 3 IN NORWAY.
At about 3:45 this morning. Mother had gone into a shock. It was a scary and heartbreaking moment. She really has deteriorated so fast. We arrived here and in two days, things went downhill very quickly.
A few days ago after our arrival here, she was still up and walking around. Sure, not for very long periods, but she was moving, at least. She had been almost like her usual self. I could pretend she wasn’t sick or dying and I could almost forget the situation that led me and Sasha here.
She was able to talk and hold a conversation.
“Ivan, dear.” She had called me that day. I held her hand as she spoke to me.
“I don’t think I’ve told you this before, or maybe I have but it’s been so long ago, but I will tell you regardless. Ivan, I’m so incredibly proud of you. You had to overcome so much in your life and grew up much quicker than you should have. That’s mostly because of me, I’d let you fend for your little sisters when you were just a boy yourself and I let you take over from your father all by yourself-”
“Mother, please-” I tried to cut her off. I didn’t want her to blame herself even at the door of death.
“No, Ivan, please let me finish. This might be my only chance. I know I don’t have much time. I think I’ve known that my time was up, even back then, two years ago when I first got diagnosed. Sometimes you just know. I want you to know that I love you and your sisters so much.”
I fought back tears threatening to spill. She continues, “I know my death will be hard for you. But I don’t want you to drown in sorrow. I’m worried about leaving you and your sisters, but I’m more worried about you, Ivan. You’re bad at opening up, especially when it comes to emotions.”
“Mother, I’ll be fine. I promise you, please. Try to rest,” I persuaded. I didn’t like that she was talking about all these now, I’d just wanted to pretend that she would be okay. This heart-to-heart talk was hitting me a little too hard. My chest hurt already and I could barely swallow past the lump in my throat.
“Ivan… it’s okay to talk about these things, to open up, and not always try to bottle things up all the time. I want you to find your person, someone who will be there for you like you’ve been there for this family. I want you to have your own small happy family. There has to be someone who would get to see the fun and soft side of you, that part of you that was pushed aside long ago.”
I was about to protest and tell her I didn’t need a life partner and I was okay and fine with the way I lived but Sasha walked into the room. We usually take turns to watch her or we do so together.
“Sasha.” She continues as she reaches for Sasha’s hand, “Please don’t let your brother be by himself, I want you to always be there for him like he has for you and Ania. Please. And I want you to know I love you guys so much, more than words can express.”
“I love you too, mum…” Sasha said as she broke into sobs and moved to hug Mother tightly.
At 11:28 pm, Mother passed away in her sleep, comfortably, her hand in Sasha’s.
It felt like it all happened in the blink of an eye. One moment we were talking about life and everything. The next, she was having difficulties staying awake, refusing food and when she was not sleeping was just so disoriented. And now she is gone. Forever.
Funerals were supposed to bring closure, but standing here over my mother’s casket left me open and raw-the opposite of closed. I’ve always hated funerals, and I hate them even more now.
Her best friend, Vera, walked up to me. “She fought so hard,” she said.
“Of course she did,” I replied politely, I honestly didn’t feel like speaking to anyone right now. But I’m not sure I have a choice with the amount of guests that had attended the funeral service.
I made small talk with a handful of guests after that. Throwing a bit of “Thanks for coming” and “I appreciate your support” here and there.
After the burial, we went home to my mother’s house.
Sasha and Ania-whom mother had requested after she had gone into shock the morning before she died-handled the guests with the help of mother’s friends and family, and father’s family was also here.
The living room was packed with people and I needed to be left alone. I started by sending my guards off for the time being. “Maxim, you and the guys can get some rest. It’s been a long day.”
Maxim had been weird for a few days now and I was not in the right state of mind to ask him what was going on. Maybe after we are back in Russia.
“Sure, thanks,” he replied. I moved around him to stand in a corner away from the guests.
“Hey, Ivan, long time.” A hand slapped my shoulder. I turned to see my cousin, Sidorov. He was my paternal aunt’s son and he was one of my favorite cousins but had lived in the United States for most of his adult life, so we had barely talked. “What are you doing here all alone?” He asked after he pulled me in for a hug.
“Well, all those people are proof that we’ve done the funeral service and I couldn’t handle the reminder that she is gone,” I said simply.
He studies for a minute. “It’s okay, I’ve been here before and I know how hard it can be,” he said sympathetically. And he did understand. Ten years ago his mum had died in a ghastly car accident. He never got to say goodbye.
Should I be happy that I at least got a chance to say goodbye? Fuck that, It still hurts all the same.
“I guess we are birds of a feather,” I joked.
His jaw dropped, “No way, did you just make a bad joke?”
I shrugged, trying to look casual about it. But I knew I wasn’t fooling anyone as my lips twitched. “I try sometimes you know, I’m not so rigid.”
He snorts, “Okay, if you say so. Well, I’ll be staying around for a while, if you… uhmm, need my assistance?” Suddenly his expression changed, like something had happened.
I studied him for a minute and it looked like he was going to shrink from the way I was trying to read him. Maybe I’d ask him what went wrong later. “Sure, we’ll discuss that later-”
I stopped mid-sentence as my phone started ringing, I reached into my pocket. I glanced at the screen to see who was calling.
Igor.
“Excuse me, I need to take this,” I said as I excused myself from Sidorov.
Once I was in a secluded place, I swiped to pick up the call.
“What is it?” I asked irritably. They weren’t supposed to call until there was an emergency or something. And even at that, they were instructed to call Maxim only.
“Boss, voznikla problem.” [Boss, there’s been an issue.]