August 27, 2003.
"Dad! Please, please, please PLEASE play Crescent Sun!" Delilah begged.
"That's all you want to listen to," I laughed.
"Dad, it's my birthday! I'm 12 now!" She yelled.
"How about The Who?" I teased.
"DADDDDD!"
"Okay, damn,"
It's been twelve years since Amanda's death. I'm 39 now, an old ass still chasing his daughter. I look older, but I don't feel old.
Delilah is a scrawny girl. She looks just like me, too. She's got my lips, my eyes, my cheekbones, my curly hair. But she's got her mother's fire and our shared love of music.
I'm driving Delilah to go see her mother's tombstones. It's a big day for the both of us. We still live in Seattle, too.
I slipped in Crescent Sun's Murder, and she said, "Thanks, dad."
"Of course."
Delilah sang with her mother. She had every song memorized. She belted out the lyrics without a care.
We arrived to the cemetery when Eddie began to play.
"Dad, she wrote this about you, right?"
"Yeah, she did, and I'm thankful she did," I said.
"I wish I could of met her." She said sadly.
"You did, sweetie. You just don't remember. Your mother died in a terrible way but she died in peace because of you."
"Why did she have to get murdered?!" She yelled, tears forming in her eyes.
"Oh, sweetie, I don't know." I gave her a hug and let her cry and get snot all over my chest.
She sat back in her seat.
"I think we could have been good friends." She said.
"You would've. But she's with us. Always. Everytime your afraid your mother is there to protect you."
And then I felt my throat ache, and tears roll down my cheeks.
"I know." She said. She's so mature and wise for her age and I love that about her.
We're going to the arcade with her friends and then dinner and a sleepover for her birthday. She even has a guy "friend" invited.
I'll be watching him.
We stepped out of the car and walked towards the grave, my arm around my anxious daughter.
Once we arrived we placed marigolds on the Earth where her dead body lies.
Delilah and I cried together like we did twelve years ago.
"I love you, baby," I whispered to Amanda. And I felt her close. I only hoped Delilah felt her, too.
"Hey mom, I know I met you as a baby but, I miss you, and I love you," Delilah said softly.
"I'm best friends with Frances Bean Cobain, I thought you'd like to know... And Dad's really annoying but I love him."
I chuckled and kissed Delilah's forehead. We said goodbye again and walked back to the car, where I was going to give her the locket. I had let her have countless photos of her mother but she never even knew of the locket.
"Delilah, I know your birthday party isn't until later but I have a special gift for you."
She looked at me skeptically.
I took out a small box that held the locket and have it to her.
She smiled when she opened the box. She held it out, admiring it in the sun.
"Dad, it's beautiful," she said.
"Open the locket."
She did, and looked at the pictures inside.
"Your godfather Stone took the one of me and your mother, and I took that one of you, as a baby."
She looked at it some more and smiled so bright.
"She's so pretty," she said quietly. "Too bad I look nothing like her."
"Hey, what's wrong with looking like your dad?" I said.
"This curly hair gets too tangled up, my eyes look too bright, my cheekbones too feminine, my ass chin to masculine, and lips form in a disgusting way when I smile," she said.
We laughed at our inside joke. I'd tell her that all the time when she was younger.
"Hey. That's RUDE." I laughed.
She closed the locket and put it around her neck. She leaned over and hugged me again.
"Thanks, Dad. I love you."
"I love you, too." I whispered.
I knew that Amanda would have loved to raise Delilah with me. And I knew that her and Delilah would've been so very close. I also knew how close of a family we'd be.
I love you, baby.
I love you, too, Eddie.
The End.
