**Diary Entry 10th April**
«You’re nothing to himI’m his mother,» my mother-in-law whispered.
«You shouldn’t have called that private doctor,» Valerie muttered, adjusting the black shawl over her hair. «Our local GP’s been good enough for yearshe knows us well.»
Emily silently placed another plate of simnel cake on the table. Most of the guests had left, only the closest remained. The kitchen felt cramped with so many people, but no one dared eat in the parlour where the coffin stood.
«Why wont you say anything?» Valerie pressed, her voice sharp. «Regret spending the money on proper treatment? Ten thousand pounds for that surgery, and what good did it do?»
«Valerie, not now,» Aunt Clara murmured, but she wasnt listened to.
«When, then?» Valerie’s eyes were rednot from tears, but anger. «He was my son. I carried him, raised him, put him on his feet. And you you only married him.»
Emily clenched the tea towel in her hands. She wanted to scream, to run, but today theyd buried Stephen. She had to hold herself together.
«Mum, enough,» sighed William, Stephens younger brother. «This isnt the time.»
«When is? After we bury my son? Should I stay silent while she takes charge? This is my house! Stephen was born herehe should rest here!»
Emily flinched. Theyd argued all week about the wakeValerie insisting on her own cramped terrace, Emily suggesting a quiet pub. But as usual, her mother-in-law had her way.
«Ill air the parlour,» Emily whispered, slipping away.
The room was stifling, the scent of lilies and incense mixing with the lingering smell of food. Stephen lay in the coffin, unfamiliar in his black suit. Hed hated suitsalways said they were stiff. Preferred jumpers and jeans.
«Why did you leave me?» she murmured, stepping closer. «How do I do this alone?»
Footsteps sounded behind her.
«Love, dont torture yourself,» Aunt Clara said softly, resting a hand on her shoulder. «It wasnt your fault. That damned illness.»
«She says I didnt fight hard enoughthat I skimped on his care.»
«Dont listen. Grief makes people cruel. He was her only sonher whole world.»
«And what am I? Dont I grieve?» Emily turned, her eyes raw. «Twelve years together. Twelve! I nursed him, quit my job to sit in hospitals.»
«I know, love. You were a good wife.»
«And she calls me an outsider. How? We married in church, we wanted children»
Emily fell silent. That hurt too much. Theyd dreamed of a family, then Stephen fell ill, and dreams were shelved.
From the kitchen, Valeries voice carried. She was telling someone how Stephen had tumbled off his bike as a boy and broken his arm.
«I took him to A&E myselfmiddle of the night, in a cab. The doctor said another hour, and itd have set wrong.»
Emily remembered Stephen laughing about that storyhow his mum had panicked more than he had, how the doctor had calmed *her*, not him.
«He was always brave,» Valerie went on. «Stood up for the little ones at school. Knew how to scrap. Then the Armymade a fine officer.»
Emily thought of his letters from servicemissing home, craving roast beef and Yorkshire puddings. And the girl, Emily, hed met before deployment, the one he swore hed come back to.
«Em, come here,» called Sarah, his cousin. «Valeries showing photos.»
An old album lay open. Valerie pointed at a school picture. «Lookhis first year. Bright lad, straight As.»
Emily sat beside her, studying childhood snapsStephen grinning, hugging a teddy, building sandcastles.
«Here he is grown,» Valerie turned the page. «Collegequalified mechanic. Golden hands, could fix anything.»
«He helped me with my car,» Emily said softly. «Never minded when I botched it.»
Valerie shot her a look. «Well, he was kind to *everyone*. Not just you.»
An awkward silence fell. Sarah coughed, asking for more photos.
«Post-Army,» Valerie tapped a picture of Stephen in denim and a leather jacket, leaning on a motorbike. «Handsome devil, broke hearts everywhere.»
Emily remembered meeting himgiving her mate a lift home, offering her a ride too, cracking jokes all the way. Shed thought him the most charming man alive.
«Plenty of girls fancied him,» Valerie sighed. «But none serious. Too young to settle, hed say.»
«Mum, why bring this up?» William frowned.
«Its the truth. He was a bachelor for years. Then *suddenly* married.»
Emilys cheeks burned. Stephen had hesitated to introduce themwarned her his mum was set in her ways.
«Lovely wedding, though,» Aunt Clara cut in. «That cake was stunning.»
«*I* ordered the cake,» Valerie corrected. «*I* bought her dress. Shed no money of her own.»
«I worked,» Emily said quietly. «Didnt earn much, thats all.»
«Exactly. Stephen earned well. The factory promoted him twice.»
Emily recalled saving for a house, counting every penny. Then the diagnosissavings drained on treatments.
«He wanted children,» she blurted. «Kept saying, Once Im better»
Valerie shut the album abruptly. «Table needs setting. The vicars due soon.»
Later, alone with William, she washed dishes while he smoked on the patio.
«Dont take it to heart,» he said. «She loved him too much, maybe.»
«I know,» Emily kept scrubbing. «But outsider cuts deep.»
«Youre not. You were his wife.»
«*Were*,» she echoed. «Now what? A widow? Sounds so final.»
«Youre family. Always will be.»
But Emily knew better. After the funeral, shed return to the flat theyd rented. Valerie wouldnt call at Christmas. No more birthdays together.
That night, once the vicar left and the house emptied, Valerie approached her. Emily sat by the coffin, clutching Stephens photo.
«Burials tomorrow,» Valerie said quietly. «Highgate Cemetery, near his dad.»
Emily nodded. Theyd settled it that morning.
«And his things. Do you want them, or shall I keep them?»
«Im not sure. Can I decide later?»
«Fine. Theyll keep.»
They stood side by side, separated by griefeach certain hers was the heavier.
*»Youre nothing to himIm his mother,»* Valerie whispered, so faintly Emily wondered if shed imagined it.
Exhaustion, maybe. Or the endless day refusing to end.
Emily traced Stephens smile in the photoyoung, carefree. The way hed looked when theyd married, when life stretched ahead, bright and boundless.
«Forgive me,» she murmured, unsure if she spoke to him or his mother.
Outside, dusk settled. Somewhere beyond, a life without Stephen beganno laughter, no plans, no *us*. Just Emily, learning to be herself again.
**Lesson:** Grief carves its own path, and no two hearts break the same way. But in the wreckage, we must find our own footingbecause the world wont pause for sorrow.
