Where Dreams Lay

[eleven]

[eleven] "it's my life. it's now or never. i aint gonna live forever. I just wanna live while I'm alive" -Bon Jovi

I finally had the guts to set up a funeral for my father.

Margret, of course, helped me figure the details out. The local church gave us tonight for a short mass that will consist of myself, Margret, the twins and Luke. That's everyone I invited.

In case your wondering why there's literally no other relatives that would come, let me explain: dad was raised by only his mother-my grandmother-because his father left them when dad was twelve. Just last year, she died, leaving him the only living Anderson. Mom, on the other hand, has both of her parents living, but they live in Alaska. We haven't spoken to them in years.

In other words, my family is incredibly small. Which is why mom and dad decided on having a lot of kids. Well, that's my guess to why one became four.

I tie my hair up in a ponytail as the mirror is facing me. The tie is wrapped three times around because two times makes it loose, and my hair is crazy thick. Thick, wavy hair needs a fat pigtail to hold it all up.

Not that I wear my hair up often.

A few strands of shorter hair falls out of the tie and hangs loosely against my face. I look into the mirror and see my face as natural as it can possibly be. No makeup, not even touch ups for color. God doesn't care about what you look like on the outside.

I run down the stairs in a black fitted dress that I've had in my closet for ages. It's a tad snug on my figure, but it's going to have to do.

* * *

The church is a small, fragile looking building. The walls have stained glass and beautiful paintings covering every square of inch. It's quite a sight if you ask me.

As the mass goes on, I can't help but think that this is possibly not the last time I'll be here. Mom could die. Mom could already be dead. I will probably die emotionally and mentally if that happens.

As tears trickle down my cheek, I don't bother to wipe them away. I'm not ashamed to cry. Not here, at least.

I wanted to say something, but nothing ended up being prepared. I couldn't bring myself to sit down and write a speech about dad and what he did and how he was a good person. I couldn't bring myself to stare at a blank sheet of paper and wonder what on earth could I say to make him proud. That paper would have words that would only take one eighth of his life in a speech.

I decided to wing 'it.

And when I walk up to that podium, the Priest stands aside to let me speak. When my legs reach the stairs, I find myself trembling as I lift my knees to climb. Three stairs have never been so difficult to walk up.

I begin to talk about him and mom: how they were at home. How I noticed their love for each other was unconditional. When I bring up us-the kids-is when I find my chest shrinking and it starts to feel like my lungs collapsed. Seeing my siblings watch me break sown as I try to stop the sobs from coming out absolutely kills me even more.

I stop before this gets out of hand, and step down off the podium.

We leave after the ceremony ends, me holding Casey's hand, and Margret holding Joey's. They may be five, almost six actually, but that doesn't mean this isn't taking a toll on them too.

After all, Casey was always Dad's little baby, even after she out grew diapers.

The darkness takes me in and it reflects my emotions to the dot right now. I glance at Margret who is walking with her head held high. She's trying to be strong, for me, for us. We walk down the sidewalk, back home where the memories of Dad still roam the rooms. It may be cold, but no one ever said a little walk would hurt you.

No one ever said one night could change everything so dramatically.

But then again, maybe no one was capable of doing so.

••🌙••

Lyric video-It's my life by Bon Jovi

A/N sorry this chapter is short . . . longer ones on the way :)