Chapter 40: Saying Goodbye

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Casey Jones hates funerals.

He thought that his dad's funeral took the cake for one of the worst days of his life, beaten out only by the day he died. Everything about it was so heart-wrenchingly awful that even now, weeks after the fact, Casey swears he can remember every horrible detail: the casket, the creak as the coffin slowly dropped into the dark maw of earth, and the cries of friends and loved ones.

At least Casey could walk away from that patch of ground. He could try to forget and move on.

Not now. He can walk away, but Zilla and the memories she left him with will stick with him forever, literally inked into his skin.

Snowflakes drift from the sky, littering the dead, brown grass with specks of white. The cemetery is empty of all life save for the mourners and the sun has just begun to set over the distant trees, bathing the grey sky with small stripes of pink and orange. It's a beautiful day to say goodbye.

It's a small, private gathering. Eustace and Harry discussed inviting Zilla's old classmates, but they didn't know where to start. They opted to take the time later to find people and send out invitations to pay their respects at her grave site and, for the actual funeral, they kept it to a far smaller, more mutated group.

Casey was more than nervous to tell them the truth about everything that had happened. How would Harry and Eustace handle the existence of mutants? Most New Yorkers actively pretend that the two previous Kraang invasions never happened, much less acknowledge the very real case of mutants living under their feet and hidden in alleyways all around them. But the Nezbits took it all in stride and asked to meet the mutants who tried to help their little girl.

That brings them here, to this sad little funeral on a small plot of land.

The turtles changed into black masks for the occasion and each of their girlfriends wear dark clothing. Casey has never seen Sarina in anything darker than grey; black makes her look ghostly. Andy, April, and Splinter are also present. Even Splinter switched his usual red kimono for a black one. Casey wears the same suit he wore to his dad's funeral.

Casey always thought that part of what made a funeral so terrible was seeing the body, a stark reminder that the person you love is dead, but he isn't so sure now. There's no coffin here, no ashes, nothing to bury but memories and childhood keepsakes. Eustace and Harry could have easily forgone purchasing a headstone, but they felt that a place to symbolically put her to rest was far more important than money.

The headstone is beautiful, carved from brown marble and engraved with wings on either side of the epitaph.

Zilla Nezbit
An angel taken home too soon
1998 ~ 2016

The funeral passes. Eustace and Harry share their favourite memories with Zilla through their tears, talking about soccer games and hockey and movie nights. Andy steps up to say a few words about her from back when they were students, although she apologizes for not being close with her.

"Punks and jocks don't mix, really," she says. "But from the sounds of it, Zilla was definitely more hardcore than I ever was." She looks at her phone, her eyes dewy as she takes a deep breath and looks back at the stone. "All I can really say is thank you, Zilla. Thank you for saving my brother. I can't ever repay you."

It sticks a lump in Casey's throat again.

As the funeral concludes, Eustace steps forward. He clears his throat, clasping his hands together. "I want to thank you all for coming, again," he says. "If you're comfortable, Harry and I would like to invite you to our home for refreshments."

"We'd be honoured," Leonardo says, bowing his head. His brothers and Splinter follow his lead.

Too soon, it's over. As people trickle back to their vehicles, Casey stays rooted in place, staring down at the stone. Harry and Eustace put a few framed pictures of Zilla in her childhood days up for display, nestled among the flowers. Casey blows out a breath as he stoops for his bag, pulling out the mutated soccer ball from inside.

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