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She had known it was coming, of course. No matter how her grandmother kept reassuring her she was okay and no matter how little Tilly had seen of the world, how naive and stupid she sometimes felt, she wasn't born yesterday. But now it was here and she was actually facing it- she didn't know what to do. She didn't know anything about burial rites and all she could see as she turned around the room for some kind of sign was her grandmother's body. She'd been avoiding the truth for so long, the truth had now caught up to her.
She blinked her eyes to push back the tears. Things to do, no time to cry. Tilly might have been in denial, might have been swayed by her grandmother's reassurances because it was so much easier than having to talk about what was coming, but her grandmother surely hadn't been. There must be some sort of instructions somewhere - what did you do with someone who was dead? She couldn't just leave her grandmother there, lying on the couch, for Tilly to find every time she came home.
At last, through the tears and after crying herself hoarse with pleas for help, she found a box of important looking papers, and on top of that were burial instructions.
She was all alone. As she put the shovel in the ground, as she dug a hole that would be deep enough - two feet, the paper said, and she'd brought her tape measure out, trying to deal with it as objectively and rationally as possible - as she fought through the tears and the burning in her muscles, that's what she kept thinking. All. Alone. The island had never felt this stifling, this impossible to bear, and she was grateful, shamefully grateful, that the last thing her grandmother had done, was provide Tilly with the means to escape.
Going back into the house, Tilly wrapped her grandmother in a sheet. She couldn't think of another way to get her out there than to drag her, grabbing her under the armpits. She was heavy and Tilly wasn't the strongest person, but she persevered. Sweat was pouring from her forehead as the sun was making its way to the top, beating down on her. It couldn't even have the decency to rain, she thought, and immediately after thought to be grateful for it, because how were you supposed to dig a hole to bury someone in when rain kept filling it up?
She stopped when she came to the grave and sat down to rest a bit further away, against her grandmother's favourite tree. She'd given the grave a slope, making it easier to bring her grandmother to where she needed to be, but she couldn't just yet.
"I will miss you, grandma," she said into the ether, tears making her words unrecognisable, but if her grandmother were listening, she'd understand. "I can't- I don't know how to do this without you. The plan always was to go see the world together, to bring you on this adventure. What will I do out there, all on my own?"
Gently, very gently, she uncovered her grandmother, unclasping the bracelet she'd worn as long as Tilly could remember. "I will go out there," she vowed to her grandmother's face, holding back the urge to cuddle up against her one last time, knowing, in her soul, it would seep into her bones and wipe out all the memories she had of other times she'd done so. "I will do what you told me to do."
She fastened the bracelet around her own wrist. "And I will take you with me, every step of the way."
She put the sheet back over her grandmother and took a couple of deep breaths. Forcing her muscles to cooperate just a bit longer, she pulled her grandmother into the grave. Even knowing why she had dug the hole, it felt wrong, seeing a sheet-wrapped body in it. She shivered as she pulled herself up.
Slowly, bit by bit, she used the shovel to throw the earth back into the hole. Even before the first traces of it hit her grandmother's body, Tilly was crying, and the tears didn't stop. They kept on coming as she kept on adding earth, putting the surplus on top of the grave so she would be able to find it again.
In death, there's life, her grandmother's instructions had said, and she had added a packet of seeds for Tilly to plant. She did so - at least there she needed no instructions, planting flowers something she had done a million times before, and somehow, the familiarity of it was soothing. It also helped to know she wouldn't be able to leave immediately; she'd be allowed to stay and grieve, at least for a bit, to make sure the grass overtook this new patch of land.
Finally, she went to look for stones to surround the soil. She knew the train graveyard - that would never sound the same again, she thought, on the verge of hysterical laughter - like the back of her hand, of course, but she'd always paid more attention to the train detritus than the nature around it. Even as a child, she'd play among the broken wheels and torn apart pieces of metal.
Now, she looked for the things underneath the debris, for the parts the earth itself provided. It was a different sort of hunting, but still soothing in a way. She could feel life surrounding her, and every perfect stone she found, felt like a way to honour her grandmother. She diligently put the stones down, making it as pretty as she could. When that was done, she sagged down next to the grave, and sobbed.
When, after days of rain and sunshine, after weeks of tears and fond memories, the flowers started to bloom, it felt like her grandmother was waving goodbye. It didn't feel right, exactly, to leave on her own - but it did feel like it was time. Time for the adventure she'd been preparing for all of her life. Time to see the world.