Hundred-Thirty Two: To My Eliana.

ELIANA.

To my Eliana.

From Nana.

Those words would echo for so long to come. I remember the moment I first held the letter in my hands. My chapped dirt-filled fingernails clinging to the piece of paper with almost as much curiosity as devastation.

The grief still hit, like a storm against my face, a sour taste in the back of my throat. The grief was there.

But in that moment, I remembered Denver’s words. In this moment too.

As I walked towards her coffin which laid open in the center of the fire. The air was gloomy with ash and the warm golden hue illuminated the tears that filled the eyes of everyone that had gathered here—for her funeral. Nana. Just like my Mum, just like Adam—it was a rite.

Whenever one of us died, they were to be buried the next day. And my Nana had found a place right next to my Mum. I halted right next to her coffin even though earlier, I had no idea I would be able to do this.

I threw a look back at Denver who had paused some meters behind. To allow me a mome