I Hope You Let It Go

by Seer

Hope

I dropped mum off a present today.

There was this song that I found when going through all these old bits of paper and diary entries that she and my mother used to love.

It was cheesy as fuck, going on about how love is the most important thing, and how there’s no way of teaching it, no way of pretending, no politics to it, it just sort of happens to you. It’s not really my sort of thing, bit too heavy on the swelling melodies, but I can see why someone of their era would love it so much.

Her eyes lit up when I showed her the LP I'd gotten with the song on it. She didn’t listen to music all that much anymore, but my mother would love it, she promised that. Those old tunes she used to love provide some sort of link to her past that outlasts everything. They’ll have a dance to that, my mum says she expects.

I ask whether she ever got around to that symphony they both write about so much.

Mum laughs, time has worn off the bitter edges of it all for her. But I can tell it’s something of a sore spot. I regret asking.

Mum says she did as much as she could, but eventually she couldn’t write anymore. Funnily enough, that happened long before she lost the ability to improve. And despite improving her own wingwriting, something mother had insisted she’d done, as soon as she’d lost her dominant wing, Mum couldn’t write music herself.

She couldn’t help her, was the clear implication.

I tell mum that she’s done more than anyone else ever could, or would.

I enjoy the moment, I think she does too.

And then…

I asked her if she’s ever mentioned me, despite myself. I said that my visit today was going to be all about her, not me. But I can’t help it.

Mum tears up, it’s the first time I’ve asked in a long time, even despite how much I’ve thought about it. She doesn’t answer at first, and just holds me in that way she used to when I was a child. The way I’ll never grow out of.

I hold her back, we cry for a little while. We haven’t done that in a long time.

She pulls back, composing herself long before I’m able to, showing that maternal power that still leaves me in awe of her, and wipes away a tear with her sole remaining wing.

“She smiles when she sees pictures of you. I can’t say she remembers who you are anymore, love. I wish I could, but I know you wouldn’t want me telling you a lie. But she remembers she loves you, she remembers the feeling from inside herself that occupies the space that makes you up… a bit flowery, I know. That’s more her strong suit. But that’s the best way I can express it.”

The sentiment feels like something I should document here. I hope I got her words right.

I’ve felt for the longest time that I have to distrust everything that anyone says.

This one time, I try to believe my mum.

Not for me, but I don’t need to for me.

I can do it for her.

When she went to go, I reminded her to take the record, and asked her to tell me when she gets back whether her and mother…

Whether she and mum had a dance to it.

I want to know, I really do. I’m trying to make myself be okay with wanting to know.

She falters, and for the first time in years asks if I want to come with her.

I’m not quite there yet.

She respects that.

But for the first time that I can remember, a part of me actively hopes I can get there soon. One day in the future, some tangible time that exists.

And, for her, I force myself to make some sort of personal peace with that.

• Star Dust

Comments

[Thunder twister]

Devastating.

Loved it

[Flashgen]

Absolutely heart rending and painfully real. I think the use of the handwritten sections adds so much to the impact as well, pulling into focus an existential fear that few of us grapple with until it's actually happening in our lives. Just phenomenal work, Seer.

[TCC56]

Very much a worthy successor to a stupendous fic. Bravo.

[SigmasonicX]

Once again a really interesting fic. The pictures were admittedly hard to parse at times, but they added to the feel and made for a nice emotional story. It's interesting seeing Fiddle and Lightning's kid as an adult and her relationships with them.