Precious Star

Greater

Just like we had done with Jules, Charles and I approached the cemetery I hadn't visited since the day they buried him. We stayed in the car for about an hour, my sobs filling the silence in the car. Charles knew that all I needed from him was to just be there. No words, no sounds. Just him.

"I'm ready," I whispered, as I turned to look at him. Nodding his head he stepped out of the car and opened the door for me. Without a single word he stuck out his hand for me and guided me to the tombstone. It was filled with flowers and pictures of him.

Rubbing my back he slowly let go of my hand and stepped back a little, giving me my space and time. Slowly falling to my knees more tears fell down my cheeks.

"Hi papa. I miss you," I began as I reached out to trace the tombstone. "I've lived up to our dreams. I'm the best I could be and I'm with an amazing guy who has helped me get through everything. You really should have been coaching me through it all like we had planned. But I know your up there watching me race with Juju," finally letting out the last tears I had, I bid my goodbye. "I love you, papa."

My final stage of grief had reached its peak. I had finally accepted their deaths. And Charles had been the driving factor to this process. He was the light and peace in my security. Papa and Jules had given me my passion, my gift, my talent, and my life. Charles has given me my love, my light, my life. He has given me everything I needed and more.

It may have taken years to come to terms with the reality of it, but he was it. He was my whole world and I was his.

~

Coming back to the house I led Charles to Papa's old study. It was untouched and exactly how he had last left it. Leaving Charles to look around I started looking for Papas old photo album. "Do you want to see them?" I asked Charles. He turned around and quickly smiled as he realized that the red album in my hands were memories of mine with Papa.

Nodding we made our way into the couch and quickly made ourselves comfortable. Opening the book the first photo was a picture of my mother and her baby bump. "That's your mother?" humming he turned to look at me. "You look just like her."

"Papa always said the same thing. He said that his genes sucked because I looked nothing like him," I laughed as I turned the page.

Most, if not all, of the pictures were taken in the paddock either by Papa or someone else. There were a good handful that were taken here at this house, our home in Monaco, or when we went on vacation to some other foreign country. "I think this one is my favorite," Charles pointed out as he was looking at all the pictures for the fifth time again.

"That one?" I laughed. He had picked the one where I had to interview Papa before his race. He was crouching down in front of me in her gear, his car right next to him. He was smiling at me as I held a piece of paper with the questions I had to ask him. My hair was half up, half down with a cute clip on top.  I was wearing an oversized red and blue striped button up with a white dress under with what I remembered being my favorite pink shoes. "Why that one?"

"It's the way he's looking at you. At his everything," Charles smiled as he looked at me the same way. Looking at him and then the photo I realized he was right. Papa was looking at me as if I was his everything. And I was his everything. But now I was someone else's everything.

"You know that same day he told me that I would be greater than he ever was," I recalled. "He told me that I would make a name for myself. I wouldn't go down as Ayrton Senna's daughter. I would be one of the greatest but greater than him."

"You are."