Diana Hargrove has gone through enough tragedy for three lifetimes, yet she still has an affirming smile on her face. She's lived and travelled all over the world, but the last straw that broke the camel's back, brought her back to her hometown, Cre...
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𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 | 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘴
An all black outfit. Not a single pop of color.
Not my favorite thing to wear. I enjoy wearing a lot of colors.
Mom and Nonna were waiting for me downstairs. I woke up before the sun was up to do some art therapy in order to prepare me for today. Would it be too cliché to assume that I drew something dark and depressing on the day we're having a proper funeral for my father?
It would.
So I did the opposite.
I spent the morning drawing a bunch of happy memories associated with my dad. A drawing of the local ice rink with him in the center, faceless, only being seen from the back. A drawing of him, mom, and I watching sports on TV with Devyn's spirit watching over us.
The New Years Eve fireworks that erupt behind the woods of Crescent Heights, with my dad holding Devyn's hand and holding me on his shoulders.
Dad used to have to wear noise canceling headphones to the fireworks display, because loud noises tended to trigger his post traumatic stress associated with gunshots, and he was sensitive to those sounds while he was a civilian. He did his best to adjust back to civilian life for me and Devyn.
Anyways, he always loved the firework display, and he would say that he didn't need to hear them to see their beauty in the sky.
I've been staring in my mirror for the last twenty minutes. Practicing the facial expressions I should be giving during the service. I was also making sure my outfit looked perfect.
Mom came into my room. "You ready?" she asked.
"Yeah," I whispered, fidgeting with the paper containing what I would say today. "I think I am."
Mom, Nonna, and I were escorted to the memorial service in the local church of Crescent Heights. Even the driver looked like he was giving us pity.
Dad talked about his possible death with mom lots of times since he joined the military. He knew that no matter where the military took him, he wanted to be buried in his hometown. After Devyn passed away, it was abundantly clear that he wanted to be buried with his daughter.
Every single row was filled to capacity with people who knew my dad. Some people probably had no idea who he was, but they knew his name. Everyone knew Christopher Hargrove. He's a household name. He's a hero.
Pictures of my dad were on the altar. His smiling face, his serious military face, and his goofy personality could be seen by everyone.
Emi, Jayden, and their parents sat in the first row with Nonna, mom, and me. The Russo's are our closest family friends, so it was only right to have them close by. Seth also sat in the front row, but he was alone.
