1.12 But Not Forgotten

Previously...

Primrose enters her first relationship, with the lovely Bella Bachelor. They spend seven months together before she realizes that she only fooled herself, and that she's straight. What triggers this is a meeting with her old friend Deric. She ends it with Bella, and meets up with the older man Don Lothario for a date. Mainly to spite Deric who is acting anything but friendly towards her. But half-way through the date, her mother calls with bad news about her father.

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Primrose was numb all over. Dead? Her father... Dead? It just couldn't be. He had always been there for her, from the moment she was born. He couldn't be gone. She never even got to say goodbye, he wouldn't leave her without saying goodbye. But rational thoughts eventually prevailed and she realized that death came without notice and without goodbyes. She lay on her bed for days, crying for her father to come back, for a way to turn the clock back and spend more time with him than she had.

Amelia brought her up some food every now and then, but Primrose could tell that she had lost her spirit too because the food wasn't home made. She couldn't remember ever having store bought meals at home before.

After a few days Primrose woke up with a determination that she couldn't stay hidden forever. She strode out of her room and down the stairs, into the kitchen. At the counter her mother was having breakfast.

She looked up with a weak smile.

“Hi honey. Do you want some breakfast?” Primrose hesitated. If all she had to choose from were those microwave dishes, she'd rather refrain from it. She shook her head.

“Mom. We need to have a funeral. Have you started fixing that?” She could see in her mothers vacant eyes that the words had made her drift off, no doubt in a reverie of pain.

“Mom. Come back.”

Primrose was calm. There was no use freaking out or becoming angry, they were both hurting. Finally Amelia looked up at her daughter as if she hadn't seen her coming in until now.

“We'll call them today.” Was all she said. And so they did. Mort's body had been taken to the morgue after Amelia had found it. He had gone up for a nap in the evening and when Amelia had come to see if he wanted anything to eat, he had already passed. Silently and painlessly in his sleep, at least that was something to be grateful for.

Now the funeral agency was tasked to cremate the body and bring it to the graveyard that Mort had once told Amelia about. The next call was to the caretaker of the graveyard, who confirmed that one of the family plots had been purchased by the Sterlings. A date was set for the funeral, and finally, Amelia and Primrose sat down to write invitations.

“Invitations to a death fest” Primrose thought grimly, but she didn't object. This was far better than the alternative of her mother having to invite all of their close family and friends over the phone.

On the morning of the funeral Primrose woke up with a feeling of dread. But while this wouldn't have been very strange at all, what was odd was that she felt like her mother was the one to worry about. She padded into her parents' bedroom and saw that the bed was empty.

The black hole in her stomach seemed to grow. Then she caught a glimpse of something through the window, just in the corner of her eye. She moved towards it and saw immediately what it was.

Her mother. After snatching a towel from the bathroom to cover herself she ran outside. She could see from a distance that vacant look again, as if the body was there but the soul and the consciousness were somewhere else.

“Mom?” She inquired cautiously as she got closer. “Mom, are you alright?”

Something seemed to flicker in Amelia's eyes and then there was a sign of recognition.

“Primrose?” She said in a small voice. “Where is your father? Go get your father for me.” Primrose's eyes filled with tears. Oh no. No, please, not this. She wiped the tears away angrily and looked into her mother's eyes.

“Mom. Dad is dead. We're having his funeral today. Don't you remember? We need to get you inside so you can get ready.” She tried to talk calmly and forced the fear and worry away from her voice. And slowly, gradually, it seemed to take effect. Amelia's face contorted into an expression of pure agony.

It looked as if she was forced to relive the entire process of realizing, denying, accepting and despairing all over again, in only a few moments. It took all the self-possession Primrose had not to start crying uncontrollably. Instead, she buried her head against her mother's chest and held her arms around her tightly for a moment.

She couldn't remember the last time she had been this close to her mother. Either physically or emotionally. But as she reluctantly pulled away, there was another change, and suddenly her mother started screaming right into Primrose's startled face:

“Why!? How could you let him die!? How are we supposed to live without him!?”

Primrose knew somehow that Amelia wasn't directing these awful words at her. She was screaming at Primrose, not to her.

“Come, let's go inside, we need to get ready.” She said and took her mother gently by the hand, leading her back inside. Amelia's anger and frustration vanished the moment their hands touched and now she followed obediently without the slightest protest, like someone lobotomized.

By the time they arrived at the graveyard Amelia was back to her old self. Tired, worn and grieving, but at least aware of her surroundings and of the past. None of them had mentioned what had happened earlier in the morning. Primrose wasn't even sure her mother remembered. And Amelia, who only had vague flashes of it in her memory was too shaken to ask her daughter if they were actually memories or dreams.

All the people closest to Mort were there. His wife, his daughters, his little grandson, and a handful of friends.

Laura Kinley was there, not only to support her friend Amelia, but to pay her respects to the boss she had so looked up to and idolized. Her infatuation with him was long gone, of course, but she had always thought him to be one of the best, most honest and honorable men there was.

Her son Deric was there too. Primrose only glanced at him for a fleeting moment as they all stood around the tombstone. Amelia was the first one to speak. She held a short speech about all the good qualities Mort had had, and how much he would be missed. Next up was Tilly, his eldest daughter. She, who was a writer, had a way with words and she moved everyone present as she read out of her latest book, that had incidentally been about grief.

She ended with these words:

“When someone dies we see the many colors of love, and of sorrow. Sometimes it overtakes us and pulls us under the water, suffocating us. But if we are lucky, there are other grievers around us and together we are stronger. Together we can let love overpower sorrow. They are gone from us, but not forgotten.” When she was finished, Tilly was the only one who wasn't crying. She went back to her family and pulled her son into a tight hug, trying in vain to soothe him.

He didn't really understand that his grandfather was gone, it was too strange and foreign to him, because he had never experienced death before. But the tears of his father, his aunt, his step-grandmother and everyone else around him had a powerful effect and he had joined in with the weeping. Lastly, Primrose took the few steps up to the gravestone. Unlike the others, she didn't turn around to face the little group of mourners.

She stood as if rooted to the ground, staring at the cold, gray stone.

“Daddy.” She whimpered, but her voice failed her and the sobs that had up to this point been somewhat controlled suddenly took over and her entire body shook. In an instant her mother appeared at her side and they hugged for the second time that day.

As Amelia eventually let go and walked over to get the flower arrangements, Primrose took a few feeble steps, looking around desperately for something to latch onto, something real. And there was Deric. He stood looking at her with such compassion that it made her heart flutter amid all the pain. He was silent, but he opened his arms in a gesture that said all she needed to know. She walked straight into his embrace and stood there for a long time before she put her arms around him in return.

“I can't live without him.” She mumbled confidentially into his ear as if they were intimate friends, when they in fact hadn't spoken without animosity in years.

“Yes you can. He will love you forever and he will want you to move on.” He answered in a subdued voice that only she could hear. The flowers were laid around the tomb stone and two, white candles were lit.

It was very serene and beautiful. Anyone who passed by the stone would see that this had been a very much loved man. Amelia took a last, long look before she followed the others back to the cars.

By this time Primrose had torn herself from Deric's safe arms, but she noticed that he kept close to her, silently watching over her as it seemed. She didn't mind. They were all just about to get inside their cars when Primrose started with a cry.

“Oh! I almost forgot.” With all eyes on her she dashed inside the family's limousine, apparently looking for something. Only her feet and legs were showing and at any other time than this, it might have extracted a few laughs. After a little bit of rummaging around, she came back out, with a red and white box in her hands.

“I'll be right back!” She said and darted back to the family plot. She saw the shape of Deric in the corner of her eye, following her. He really was guarding her. Maybe he was afraid she would collapse or something? But at the gate he stopped respectfully and let her go to her father's grave alone. She opened the music box and wound it up so that the familiar tune started playing and the little ballerina twirled. With one last sob she put it down in the midst of the flowers, and walked away.

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This is sad for me. I really got attached to Mort and I hated to see him go. That's why I wanted to give his funeral a lot of focus and not just rush through it in a couple of sentences. I probably will do for most of the other sims, though, since funerals aren't all that fun or interesting. I'm sorry about the gloomyness of this chapter (and about it being a bit short), but I hope you enjoyed it anyway! It's kinda nice to get to try different feels and emotions and really explore them. But hopefully the next few chapters will be a bit more... Lighthearted. :)

On a separate note, I've decided to put the current point tally at the end of every chapter. That way I won't forget to update it. :P

/Alexandra

 Trouty mouth.

I don't know why, but this picture amuses me so much, it's so weird! What's happening is Prim is doing one of those stupid sim fu moves, but she's in the tiny bathroom, so there's no room. Silly girl.

I just think this one is poetic somehow.

And then of course some pictures in memory of Mort Sterling - one of my most lovable sims ever.

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Points

Legacy: 2

Lifetime Wishes: 1

Careers: 2

Penalties

Other: 10 (moving Tilly and Carl in)

TOTAL: -5