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He’d always given her roses on Mother’s day. He always paired them with the sweetest words on Earth, whispering them delicately in her ear as he spun her around their manor, dancing with delight. Eva had always been amazed at how easily the words came to her sweet husband, how he could make up such delicate prose in the blink of an eye.
She couldn’t help but feel the heaviness in her heart as she rose from an empty bed to greet the morning. Sparda had only been gone for few months, but today his absence was weighting on her in a way that she wasn’t quite prepared for. The empty space next to her becoming a black hole, pulling her in with the ever-growing temptation to bury herself in the velvet covers and stay there all day. Surely that was justified, it was Mother’s day after all.
No. She thought. My boys still need me, and I need to be strong for them.
But even still, she missed Sparda more than she ever imagined she could. She knew it was going to be hard when he had told her that there was a threat he needed to take care of, but she wasn’t prepared for how muted everything would seem without him there. Her garden wasn’t as colorful without him to watch her tend it, and music just didn’t stir her soul the way it used to without him there to sweep her off her feet for a random mid-day dance.
It hadn’t been this hard at first, but as the days drew closer and closer to Mother’s day, Sparda’s absence seemed to echo through the halls louder than her boys could yell. This would be the first holiday he would not be home for, with many surely to follow.
He’d always gone out of his way to make this day special for her. She’d wake up to fresh roses on her bedside table, and the smell of burning breakfast wafting through the house. She would always reach the kitchen to find her hulk of a husband, adorned in her cooking apron, fumbling over breakfast whilst his two small shadows helped. The memories were so vivid in her mind that Eva could have sworn she could smell pancakes burning right then and there.
Wait a minute... She sniffed the air once more, only to realize that she wasn’t just imaging it. Eva shot out of bed like a bolt of lighting, shoving her feet into her slippers and shuffling quickly to her closet. She wrapped herself in her house robe and made her way down the hall, the smell getting stronger as she went.
An empty but neatly made bed was all she saw as she opened the door to her eldest son’s room, further arousing suspicion. Vergil always stayed in bed reading until breakfast was ready, avoiding his younger twin’s constant desire to play. She wasn’t surprised to find Dante’s bed empty, he was always up early, with more energy than any one child should ever have. What did surprise her though, was that Dante’s bed had been neatly made as well.
She quickened her pace as she made her way downstairs to the kitchen, both eager to see what her sons were up to, and concerned that they might be burning the house down.
She was not prepared for the scene that awaited her in the kitchen.
A small portion of what appeared to be an uprooted rose bush sat on the kitchen table, dirt still falling from the roots. Two home made cards sat beside it, each scrawled with a uniquely sloppy signature.
“Dante! You’re burning it! You need to be more careful, everything needs to be perfect for mom since dad isn’t here!” Vergil stood upon a kitchen chair, holding a wooden spoon in his tiny hands as if he was the conductor of an orchestra. A cookbook was sprawled open on the counter that he’d pulled the chair up to, and numerous mixing bowls were scattered about, batter dripping down the sides of all of them. Dante was standing on a chair of his own next to the stove, drowning in Eva’s cooking apron. They were both covered in dirt, their clothes torn from tussling with thorns.
“Why don’t you help then Verg? All you’ve done is stand there and boss me around! You’re not the boss just cause you’re older.”
“Yes I am! Mama said so!”
“She did not!”
“Did too!”
“Ahem.” Eva cleared her throat, announcing her presence to the bickering twins. They turned to look at her, stunned like two small deer caught in the beaming headlights of a semi. They’d been caught.
“Awww mom, you weren’t supposed to be up this early! We were going to surprise you!” Dante whined from the stove as Vergil frantically began gathering the dirty mixing bowls and throwing them into the sink.
“Oh, my sweet boys.” She replied, tears welling in her eyes. They were already trying to fill their father’s shoes.
“Mama? Did we upset you?” Vergil asked nervously as he hopped down from his chair and walked towards her.
“No baby.” She knelt down and cupped his cheek. “Why do you think that?”
“You’re crying.” Vergil responded with concern as Dante thumped down from his chair and made his way over to them.
“I’m crying because I’m so lucky to have such wonderful and sweet sons.” She took them both into her arms. “You boys really did all of this for me?”
“It was my idea!” Dante bragged in a sing song voice.
Vergil rolled his eyes at his twin. “It’s Mother’s day, and we know you miss dad. We just didn’t want you to be sad today.”
“Oh, how could I ever be sad when I have the two of you to cheer me up?” She hugged them both a little tighter. All this time she’d been trying to be strong for her sons, she didn’t realize that they’d been trying to be strong for her too.
Eva realized in that moment, that Sparda was still there with them. She saw him when Vergil was entranced with a book, and when Dante ran about the house looking for spiders to slay with his wooden sword. They each carried little pieces of their father with them, and because of that, he’d always be there with them. Eva could not have asked for a better Mother’s day gift than that.