Beautiful Joy

1

360 days later

The alarm blares like a siren, yanking me out of sleep and into the harsh light of morning. I grope around in the dark to shut it off, hoping its obnoxious beeping hasn't disturbed my sisters. With a groan, I drag myself out of bed, arms full of clothes, and shuffle quietly to the bathroom.

Even though I usually wake up early without a problem, last night's dreams were full of happy memories that left me feeling drained today. I get dressed quickly, finding a bit of comfort in the familiar routine amidst the chaos in my head.

Heading to the kitchen, I'm greeted by the smell of coffee and pancakes—Dad's usual breakfast spread. He's already at the table, waiting with my favorite morning fix.

Since I was ten, we've shared these breakfasts together. With his construction business demanding long hours, this is our special time to connect before he heads off to work. It's our moment of quiet before the day kicks into high gear.

I take a sip of the coffee, the warmth and rich smell making me feel a bit more awake. "Thanks, Dad," I say, leaning in for a hug.

"Morning, sweetie. How'd you sleep?" His voice is soft and concerned, the kind that only a parent can give.

"Okay," I mumble, but I can't help the yawn that sneaks out. Dad catches it but doesn't push further.

It's been three months since Mom passed away, and it still feels like a bad dream. One minute, she was busy and full of life, and the next, she was gone. I remember that day clearly—she had a headache and went for a nap, asking me to watch Faith and Jewel. We were planning a surprise dinner for her, but when I went to check on her, she was already gone. The blur of calling the ambulance and doing CPR while waiting for Dad to arrive is still painful. The doctor said there was nothing we could have done and that it was quick and painless, but it doesn't make it any easier.

Dad and I chat about random things, and I appreciate the normalcy. He's not my biological father, but he's been in my life since I was three. I hardly remember before him. When he and Mom got married, he gave her a ring and me a heart-shaped gold necklace with 'Always remember Dad loves you' engraved on the back. I wear it all the time—it's a piece of our bond.

Growing up, I was definitely a daddy's girl. We share a calm, laid-back vibe and a dry sense of humor, unlike my more energetic and chatty sisters. Faith and Jewel take after Mom in that way.

"What time do you think you'll be home tonight?" I ask, trying to sound casual. "School starts in two weeks, and I wanted to take Faith and Jewel to pick out backpacks. I'm hoping to make it fun for them."

This is our first year in public school. I'm turning 15 and starting as a junior, while Faith will be in fourth grade and Jewel in first. They're excited and have friends from the neighborhood, but I'm a nervous wreck. At least I'll have Kate and Max with me.

Dad checks his phone, his face falling as he looks over his schedule. "It might be a late night. I've got a site that's almost finished, and the couple wants to move in soon." He and his best friend Jack run JJ Construction, and their hard work made it possible for Mom to stay home and homeschool us.

Seeing his concern, I try to ease his worries. "Max said he and Kate are going out to buy supplies today. I'm sure he could drive us."

"That sounds good. We can meet up for dinner afterward. I should be done by then." Dad smiles and hands me his credit card. "Get something nice for yourself and the girls too."

"Thanks, Dad," I say, taking the card. His kindness is a small but meaningful reminder of how much he cares.

With a soft kiss on my forehead, he heads off to work, leaving me to face the day with a mix of excitement and nervousness.