This book needs editing, and I'll do it ASAP
When her mother is diagnosed with breast cancer, Simone tries her best to stay strong for her family.
Two months ago, when her mother told her she was diagnosed with stage 2 cancer, she was sure her moth...
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It's the day of Simone's funeral, and I don't know what to do. She is . . . was, my little sister, my rock, the person I depended on for stability, and now she's gone, and the police is doing basically nothing to get the guy who did this, even after Cassidy gave them a detailed description of the person who might have done this.
This is the second funeral my family has had to go to this year. This is the second person in our immediate family we've had to bury. When mom died, though, I had Simone.
She's would force me out of bed when I didn't want to, would look after the twins when dad couldn't so they wouldn't miss mom too much. She took care of everyone, even Trinity, because that's how she dealt with things.
Zach and Emelie, who were finally going back to their old selves, haven't spoken much for the past week. I feel like a failure, because the only person who could make them feel even remotely better is the person we're mourning, and I have no idea how she did it.
So I sit back.
I hug them when I think they're sad, and try and do my best, but I know they miss her and they miss mom.
I button up Zach's shirt, and help him wear his suit jacket. After a quick "Thank you," he sits back on the couch and looks forward, at the wall, where our family pictures are hanging.
Emelie is next to him in her black dress, doing the same.
In an attempt to show them I'm there for them I sit in between them, grateful they left enough space for me to fit, and hold their hands, without saying anything.
I hear the door creak and then steps follow. Trinity comes in, and sits by Emelie. I feel a tear hit my hand, and then another. I look at Em, but her teary eyes are already looking back at me.
My arm wraps around her, and the other around Zach, who - without looking away from the big picture of the whole family - whispers, "I miss mommy, and I miss Simmy. I miss them so much."
"So do I." Leaving a kiss on his head, I go back to watching the picture wall.
Trinity arm rests on my shoulder, and when I look at her, she smiles at me, and even though I want to, I can't bring myself to do so.
It's not her fault, but she hasn't been here recently. Actually, she's barely called since mom's funeral, and we haven't seen her since then.
"Are you ready, kids?" Dad walks into the living room, and asks, and after hums of confirmation we make our way to the car, silently.
Just like mom's, Simone's funeral is a close casket funeral. We did this for multiple reason, but the main reason is to make sure that her lifeless form isn't the last thing people remember of her. She was so much more.
The service starts and soon it's time for eulogies. We let Fenti and Cameron go first.
The building is quiet as they make their way to the alter, where they're giving the eulogy, with only the noise from their shoes hitting the floor responding through the space.
