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“Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love.
It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot.
All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest.
Grief is just love with no place to go.”
Shane still remembered the conversation they had in the hotel room, mere weeks before their lives would be quietly turned upside down by them confessing their love for each other and turning from lovers to boyfriends, at last.
And of course Shane remembered, he always did, but he particularly remembered how Ilya had told him, voice filled with a quiet agony that had been so hard to grasp at the time, that he would never be able to go back to Russia if he ever came out. If they ever became something more.
Shane hadn’t understood, at first. He might have, if Ilya had ever alluded to actually liking going to Russia. But the more he learned about Russia, about Ilya’s family, what little he shared anyway, the less did Shane understand the hesitation, even if he did understand that this was still Ilya’s home country.
Until he understood. Truly understood why this mattered to Ilya.
There were a few things he knew to be true:
Ilya’s mother didn’t suck. She wasn’t weak. She was funny and beautiful.
She was sad. So endlessly sad.
Then she was gone.
Ilya missed her.
More than he would ever admit out loud, but it was there in the silence, in the quiet moments, in his eyes when he didn’t think Shane was looking.
Irina was gone, and her grave was in a country Ilya could never return to again.
Because of him. Because he chose their love, even if some days the sadness still threatened to swallow him whole.
And some days, that knowledge threatened to pull Shane under just the same.
He told his mother, eventually. Only after Ilya had shared some of it with her, in a moment of trust and vulnerability. Ilya had been so calm, and so sad. But Shane knew just how deep that sadness ran, knew Ilya had been holding back, and he needed his mum to know that.
Shane quietly told her one afternoon, how hard it really was for Ilya to not be able to go back. How much he still missed his mother some nights. How there was all this grief with nowhere to go.
Yuna had understood, had squeezed Shane’s hand, briefly, a warmth in her eyes, a quiet conviction settling into them that went beyond Shane’s comprehension at the time.
Because Yuna didn’t just accept Ilya, didn’t just allow him to be part of their lives – she had welcomed him with open arms, had made sure he knew he was family now, would always have a place to come home to, no matter what.
And Yuna didn’t just hold the grief for Ilya; she made room for it.
Ilya and Shane visited Shane’s parents in Ottawa in late spring for a long weekend, both of their schedules aligning long enough to allow for this brief reprieve and retreat from the outside world.
They got lucky, with sunshine outweighing the rain, temperatures mild enough to allow for t-shirts as long as the sun was out, and most of the green was back on the trees by now, the flowers in full bloom under Yuna’s meticulous care.
Ilya was always looking forward to seeing David and Yuna again, something Shane liked to lightly tease him about, even though his heart was quietly aching at the sight of Ilya openly smiling whenever they were heading back to Ottawa.
They were easily welcomed, as usual, a quick hug for Shane, an almost exaggeratedly long one for Ilya, who pretended for all of half a second that this was too much, before fully leaning into it anyway.
David had already prepared lunch, insisting they must be hungry after their travels, which was an accurate observation, but he mostly thrived on how much Ilya absolutely loved his homemade meals, easily accepting second and third portions, earning him the title of favourite son, much to Shane’s faux indignation.
Catching up over lunch was easy-going, both of them sharing the most recent locker room talks and plans to return to the cottage for their summer break, invitations being extended to stop by whenever they wanted to. It was easy, calm, familiar. Just what Iliya needed and had grown to love, even when they were meeting up at restaurants while they both played in the same city, and Shane’s parents came by to support them.
After lunch, once all the dishes were cleared off the table, Yuna’s voice was soft when she asked Ilya to join her in the backyard for a moment. Shane looked up in surprise, but his dad’s hand came up to his shoulder, quietly holding him back, as Ilya followed Yuna outside, trusting her enough by now to not expect anything terrible.
“What’s that about?” Shane turned towards his dad, once Ilya and Yuna were out of earshot, and David nudged him towards the living room, the windows offering a view of the backyard, Shane watching as his mum led Ilya towards the far end of it.
Outside, Yuna navigated Ilya to a spot in the backyard that looked different from what Ilya remembered. There was fresh soil, but more importantly, there was a new shrub planted in it, and Ilya briefly wondered why Yuna would want to show him this, when he hadn’t shown any particular interest in gardening in the past.
“It’s a crepe myrtle. It’s going to grow bigger with time, but the first blossoms are already coming in”, Yuna quietly explained, pointing at the rich dark pink blossoms that were beginning to bloom, one by one, small but strong.
“Looks nice”, Ilya offered, unsure of what to say, and Yuna warmly smiled at him in return.
“Crepe myrtles are a symbol of love”, Yuna began to elaborate, and then turned to fully look at Ilya, choosing her words with care.
“Shane told me what you sacrificed when you chose him. When you chose the love you have for each other. You must still miss your mother, and I can only imagine what it’s like to not be able to visit her grave”, she gave him a moment to process, seeing how he already softened around the edges at the mention of his mother.
“Nobody should have to choose, Ilya, especially not between the love for their mother and the love for their partner. And this is no replacement, it can’t be, but I wanted you to have a place you can find some comfort in. I wanted her to have a place in this family, because she is part of you, and you have become a part of us, too”.
Yuna could see a faint tremble rippling through Ilya, and gently placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, watching him look from her to the shrub and back again.
“I am so sorry for everything you had to go through, and I am so grateful you were brave enough to choose our son. And I hope you always know how loved and welcomed you are here, and that includes this part of your story as well”, Yuna’s own voice cracked at the words, and when she opened her arms in invitation, Ilya easily accepted, letting himself be held, for just a moment.
There were no tears, didn’t need to be, just like there were no words needed for Yuna to understand how much this meant to Ilya. To be seen. To be loved.
“спасибо. Thank you, “ was all he got out before Yuna slowly pulled away with a soft smile and gentle eyes.
“This is your home too", she reminded him, and then, softer, “I’m going to give you a moment, okay? Take all the time you need", rubbing his back once more before quietly walking back towards the house, where David and Shane were still looking through the window.
Behind her, Ilya settled down on the grass, arms wrapped around his knees, head resting on them as he focused on the new plant that had found a home in Shane’s parents’ garden.
He was overcome with a fresh wave of grief, but this one felt softer somehow, wrapped up in love and care for the first time since he had lost his mother all those years ago.
Back inside, Shane was watching it all happen, turning towards the door the second his mother returned, looking at her with a mix of disbelief and gratitude in his eyes, after his father had told him what she had done, after watching her hug Ilya like he belonged in her arms the same way he did when he was sad.
“Give him a few minutes”, Yuna softly smiled at him, and Shane nodded, briefly leaning into the touch when Yuna caressed his face, just a quick, gentle brush of her thumb, “I think he would like some company once he had a moment”. A small, simple suggestion, one that was appreciated, because sometimes Shane still didn’t know when to give space and when to offer company.
When he walked outside to join Ilya, he was quiet, mindful of the space, equally mindful not to startle Ilya, who was still deeply lost in thought.
He settled down, a little awkwardly, looking over at Ilya, waiting to be acknowledged, but not pressuring him to do so. Ilya still did, because looking at Shane felt like breathing, like something he couldn’t stop even if he tried to. His eyes were red-rimmed, though Shane couldn’t tell if he had actually been crying or if it was from unshed tears.
Shane didn’t say anything, didn’t need to. Simply put his hand in the grass between them, wrapping his fingers around Ilya’s when he took him up on the offer.
“Your mother”, Ilya’s voice came out rough, and he took a shaky breath, trying to find the right words for everything he was feeling. It wasn’t easy, but Shane never rushed him.
“She did this”, he nodded towards the new addition to the backyard, “for me. For my mother”. As if he was still trying to make sense of it. Make sense of a love that came so easily and without conditions.
“Yeah”, Shane breathed out, his own eyes starting to feel a little damp as well.
“Because she loves you”.
That’s all it took, Shane realised. All the words, all the feelings, all the gestures. It all boiled down to Ilya being loved. Unconditionally. All-encompassing. Even when he was grieving. Especially when he was grieving. Because they wanted him to feel held through this grief. To feel seen and loved.
Shane wordlessly brushed the tears from Ilya’s face that had started falling as he let the weight of this realisation sink in.
Ilya let his head rest on Shane’s shoulder then, feeling an arm being wrapped around his waist, holding him close, offering quiet comfort.
“My mother,” he said, after some quiet, “I think she would have liked it here”.
Ilya didn’t just mean this backyard. This house. This home.
His mother would have loved Shane. And she would have loved his family just the same. And she should be there, but she was missing. Ilya felt her absence, some days more than others. Stolen moments. Stolen memories.
But then he looked at the small pink blossoms again, felt Shane close, remembered his parents waiting inside, with fresh coffee and warm cake straight from the oven.
The grief came in waves.
The joy, too.