FicWad

*A/N - heyy! This is just basically how i feel about griveing in Franks POV. I lost my grandfather recnently, but just becuase i have set Gee's charatcer as Frank's lover, doesnt mean the same for me nd My Grandfather. that would be wrong. If you don't liek it, tehn i'm sorry, but i needed to get this off my mind and into words before i went insane with sadness.
Dedicated to my grandfather*


Grieving- experience intense sorrow: to experience great sadness, for example, at a death.

That sorta sums it up for me, Frank Iero.
Gee. My beautiful Gee. Gone. Dead. Buried.
A simple operation, gone wrong. One mistake in those fragile moments had tipped the delicate sea-saw of life and death for him, but still he fought on.
That one deadly mistake has cause his body to give up on him, but not his heart. He was unable to move or do much else on his own accord after that, he had to remain in constant hospital care, in one gray, dingy hospital room for Four whole months. He struggled to remain awake when I went to visit every day, and his speech and breathing capabilities were limited too.
Four long and painful months he suffered onwards in hope of being set free from that cage of his hospital bed and his illness. The life support system thrust upon his weakened body, supplying him with artificial breath and controlling his every heartbeat, every factor that made him human was swiped away. It caused him so much pain, yet he somehow managed a smile every time I visited him in his room.

“Frank.” He rasped to me one icy afternoon as I sat next to his bed, this must’ve been one of his good days for him to even be able to speak. “I’m not going to make it out of here alive, am I?” he asked timidly, his voice quivering at the end.
I felt my heart get pushed into a grinder and be broken into a thousand and infinity tiny piece.
“Of course you are!” I replied, with an air of certainty in my voice. He had to pull through, he had fought so long and hard to be free from the doctors clutches. He was going to make it, I was sure of it.
“I was hoping to spend a few more years on this earth with you, my love…” he trailed off, tears streaming down his pearly white face.
“You do have more years left, Gee!” I insisted, squeezing his hand but his downcast expression remained like concrete on his face. “I promise you do!”
“Well then, when can I live again?” he asked solemnly. The question confused me at first. Living? Well, he was alive…
“Gee, baby, you are alive! Look!” I said, pointing to his heart monitor, displaying his heartbeat with a green squiggly line. He gave me a small, faltering smile and continued.
“No, Frank. That’s a heartbeat; a life is a lot different.” He explained, grabbing hold of my hand in his, which were cold. “I can’t do anything for myself and some days I can’t even form sentences to speak to you. This isn’t living, Frankie, It’s merely surviving.”
Then I understood, he wanted everything to just go back to normal, the way it used to be, when an oxygen mask didn’t defend his sweet pink lips from my kisses.
I couldn’t promise him that, but when he was well enough to come home I had everything planned for him, I had planned how our lives were going to be together. On warm summer evenings I would wheel him down to the park in his wheel-chair, we could take a picnic basket, too, and bread to fee the duck, my Gee loved animals. Then we could watch the glistening sunset from the bridge over looking the crystal waters at the park as we held hands and could reminisce happy tales of our past.
He couldn’t just give up on all of that now. He would get out of that damn hospital room alive, I was sure of it. No doubt at all.
“Frank, my love.” He began again. “When I’m gone-”
“No! Don’t say it like that!”
“Frank, please. When I’m gone, remember the good time we shared, think of me before this happened. Don’t remember me in the condition. And live your life to the full for me.”
I couldn’t bear to hear such a strong man as him speak so negatively. Tears seeped steadily from my eyelids.
“One last thing.” He added, reaching out to grab my hand which I had wrenched away from his in upset. “Please be here when I pass, I don’t wanna die alone in here.”
My throat immediately tightened and I was too overcome in emotion to form a reply. Visiting hour was over, I simply bent down and planted a small kiss on his forehead and croaked an “I promise.” Before leaving the room.

That was the last time I saw him alive.

That 1Am phone call I received, it was obvious from the moment I picked up that the news was bad.
“Mr Iero, I’m very sorry to inform you that Mr Way passed away a few hours ago..”
The doctor explained to me that his body had just simply given up on him completely. They found him dead in his hospital bed a few hours later.
I let him down. I didn’t fulfill his wishes. He died alone. I promised he would get out of there alive. I was wrong. I let him down. I hated myself for it.
The images of his dead filled my head that moment and didn’t leave for a long time. I could picture him in his bed, gasping for air, calling for help quietly as his organ systems each shut down in turn. In my vision I heard him whisper my name, his final word. He waited for me to burst into his hospital room, to promise him everything was going to be okay as he slowly passed away, but I never did turn up. He finally gave in and died alone, with only the shrill screech of his life machine to accompany him. The ghastly pale face I pictured, his final word resounded in my mind.

Most people say that the first stage of grief is denial, but that just wasn’t the case for me. I knew he had gone, but that fact failed to sink into my brain as an occurrence but I made no attempt to deny that it had happened. It just simply didn’t seem real enough to be true.
Originally, in the first hour, I had sobbed. But after a while, once the initial shock was over and the hospital staff had began to inform me of the legal procedures, I lost all emotion I had once I felt. It felt as though I had been enclosed in a thick shell, separating me from the rest of the world which I was no longer a part of. I just wanted to shut everyone out of my life, and I would never have to feel any emotions ever again, so that’s what I did.
For the following days I just traveled around in my protective bubble, not letting a single tear spill form my eyes, feeling completely numb of all emotion and caring. I knew that everyone else was upset too, but I just left them to plan the funeral and any of the legal duties. Now that he was gone I had no care for it all. I had no care for life. I didn’t feel human enough to cope with anything.
I even attended the funeral tightly in my shell, but that was when my shell finally cracked, releasing floods of pent-up emotion, making me human again.
As his coffin was lowered into the ground, it all proved too much for me. I fell to my knees on the cold ground and bawled, wailed and screamed out my lovers name in a vain attempt to bring him back from his grave. The guys were all there, holding onto my shaking body as I sobbed harder and harder, yet I felt ever more distant from them.
Possibly what was released from my shell was worse that staying away from the world and all emotion, inside my shell depression oozed through the cracks.

I began to rely on a cycle of booze, pills and heavy drugs to carry me through each pain filled day. And as the days merged into weeks like Gee’s paint would on a portrait of his. I came to the conclusion that life was no longer worth living. Whatever people achieved during their lifetime was stripped of them in death anyway, so basically life meant nothing anymore, and it never had or would.
Once I was dead I could see Gee again, and we could go on our trips to the park together hand in had, until the end of eternity and more. Neither of us would have to feel pain ever again. It sounded perfect to me.
Everything was set. I had the blade, the doors were all locked. I even had painkillers and booze ready to take away all feeling, and possibly speed up the process. I was going to die in our apartment. I didn’t leave a note to anyone, I needn’t have either, the only person worth leaving one to was already up there waiting for me.
In the single instant that the blade made its first painful contact with my wrist, I caught sight of a photo on my bedside table. It was a photo of Gee and I standing on the bridge in the park, he was perfectly healthy in that photo, nothing like he was on his final day. We both shared the same cheesy grins as his arm was around my shoulders and my hand was clasped in his. I would do anything to just be able to re-visit that moment again.
That’s when I realized. Gee’s whole life had been dedicated to saving other peoples, and he had entrusted in my held and the others in the band, I couldn’t destroy all that he had worked for by taking my own life. Little did I realize at that precise moment, but gee had saved my life too.
After that day and seeing that photo, my life changed. I got cleaned up from the drugs and booze, I went out with the rest of the guys more often. I had fun. I lived my life to the full by spreading my new found joy with others and I loved every moment of it.
Even now it sometimes hurts to think that he’s gone and I’m still here. But in my mind he’ll never really be gone. In fact he’s still here with me now as I write this, and he will be in everything I do. His happy spirit still lives in me, and it will never leave. He’ll never be forgotten until the day I leave this earth and we’ll meet again for that sunset in the park. I rest in the fact that he feels no more pain where he is now.

Gee. My Friend. My Brother. My Lover. My Savior.

I love you, and your memory will carry on.