Who: Rick & Judith Grimes What: Celebrating Mother's Day When: Sunday, May 10, midday Where: Test City Cemetery Rating: Audience Discretion is Advised Warnings: Discussion of major character death, motherless children, melancholy thoughts, and a few sad, sad things which come from being a part of a post-apocalyptic zombie world. Status: Closed/Complete Narrative
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"Happy Mother's Day, Lori."
Rick held Judith in his lap as he sat on a concrete bench before a stone which proclaimed a name of some other woman -not his wife, certainly not his Lori seeing as she'd not even been given a proper burial- who was a "Loving Mother." He'd chosen it on account it had the inscription there. Judith was interested in words. She loved the books Sidney had given her; her hand was clenched tight on the bear the woman had brought with the stories. She shook the bear at the stone as if she were waving her own Happy Mother's Day to the makeshift touchstone for the mother she'd never know.
"This would be Judith's first with you. I remember our first with Carl. He cried. The whole time. You laughed and laughed because we got all those cards saying how blessed a mother's life was when all you wanted was for him to settle down enough for one hour of uninterrupted sleep."
Sleep had been such a rarity in the early days of their marriage. First, they'd been newlyweds who couldn't stop making love. Sex had been so much better than sleep in those days. They'd wanted to have it everywhere, anywhere, all the time. When they'd decided to have a child? It had been as if a fire was lit under them so if they got close enough for sparks? Well, their world was a wildfire. Rick hadn't ever thought their fire would die down. It hadn't even gotten a little cooler when Lori had finally gotten pregnant.
If anything, Rick remembered wanting her more when she was pregnant. Her body was lush, fuller. Every new curve was a sign of life. She'd smiled more. They'd talked about pregnant women having a "glow" to them. Lori had shown a glow all the way until she'd started in her labor pains. No one had warned them about how sometimes those pains didn't lead to a baby. No one had talked about how sometimes those pains led to surgery along with a warning more children would likely be impossible or at least very unlikely.
They'd been "cautioned against" more children.
Sighing, Rick bounced Judith as he murmured, "I wanted more. Even without the sleep. Even when I felt as if I'd die if I had to scrub one more bottle at three in the morning since we'd run out, I still wanted more. I wanted you to have the houseful you'd dreamed about having. We had so many dreams in those days. Judith, you don't know this, but your momma? She wanted at least four children. Not joking. I know you think that sounds silly what with it only being you and Carl, but it's the truth. Lori wanted at least four. It was in our wedding vows."
Rick had gotten his back slapped so many times over her announcement, he'd been bruised between his shoulder blades. It'd been worth it. His face had hurt from smiling. He had been the luckiest man in the world. Nothing could have brought him down on their wedding day. All the jokes had been in good humor. Their friends, neighbors, families had wanted them to be happy. Everyone had genuinely wished them well.
In those days, it'd been easy to wish someone well.
People hadn't been fighting for survival. Lives had been about the living, not the dead. Everyone had taken so much for granted in those days. Rick could remember how he'd complained about their air going out in the heat of summer so they'd opened all the windows in their house and stripped Carl down to his underwear to sleep on their bare bed with them. Lori had been flushed as she'd looked at him over their sleeping son. It had almost been as if they were back to the days when she was pregnant and life had been full of anticipation.
No one would dare to leave their windows open with walkers around. Lori would never look at him over Judith's sleeping body. She would never even know how Judith looked sleeping. Some would say she could see her baby girl from Heaven. Rick wasn't so sure he believed in Heaven any longer when every day was Hell. He had taken days to remember how to use air-conditioning again in Test City. It still felt surreal to him.
"I know this isn't you, Lori. I know I didn't do right by you. Not when I was lying in that hospital bed shot to Hell leaving you alone with Shane and our boy. Not when I was losing my mind trying to figure out how to live in a world gone mad. Not when you were telling me the risks we'd be taking having another baby. I didn't do right by you when I went crazy instead of holding our daughter when you couldn't. I'm holding her now. I'm not---I'll never be okay. I don't think there's such a thing as okay after what we been through. I do think I'll learn to live for you. I will give your daughter -our daughter- the best life I can. She looks---"
Rick choked slightly, Judith stopped smiling to look at him with an inquisitive gaze he knew too well. He'd seen it on her mother's face more times than he could count.
"Some days she looks so much like you I can't breathe."
His voice fell to a whisper as though he were sharing a secret with his wife again rather than talking to some stranger's headstone in a cemetery with only their baby there as witness.
"I told Carl he'd never forget you as long as Judith was around. You're all over her, Lori. She's your legacy. I could not love you more for her. You were the perfect mother. You gave everything for her. For Carl. I couldn't do it for you, but I wish I could have taken your place. Since I can't, since that's not possible, I want you to know I'll do right by Judith. And Carl. I'll do right by your babies. Happy Mother's Day, Lori. Rest in peace."
Rick stood up with Judith in his arms to walk away in quick strides, grateful someone had cleaned up the aftermath of the invasion so he could have the moment alone with his daughter and the ghost of his wife.