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Twenty-One

Maddie's P.O.V
Dad hadn't come out of his bedroom since Papa had died.

I did get him to eat, but he wouldn't leave the room, so all food was stuck in a tray and given to him.

I knew that this time was different, that this knock did not promise food. I think he knew it too, because the second I knocked, the door opened.

He was gripping the door and the door jam, looking at me, squinting. His room was dark, sheets over the windows.

Over the past week, he seemed to have ages several years. His hair was a mess and I could see gray in it. His cheeks were hollower, and there were large, dark bags under his dull blue eyes.

We stood there, only for a moment, before he spoke.

"It's time?" His voice was scratchy and raw.

"Yeah. It's time. To get yourself ready, Dad. We'll be leaving in a little bit." He closed the door without a goodbye and I turned around with a sigh, heading down the hall to my bed room. I walked in and stared at all of the boxes and empty walls. I had been packing to move out before I got sick, and had resumed yesterday. I was almost done.

As I looked around, I was suddenly a little seven year old.

I looked at the walls, bare, but in a way that meant no one had ever lived here. I would be the first person to ever mark this walls with a personality. It seemed fitting, a New room, a first room, for a first owner. I had never had a room before. This was my first one.

"All mine?" I asked as I turned to look at the two men who stood behind me. I had never been given my own. In one house, I was in a cot in the nursery, the other, the floor in a room filled with kids.

"Yes, Maddie." The brown haired man said as he knelt down. "It's all yours."

In the days, months, years to come, it would become covered in all sorts of things, from animals, primarily Platypusi, to snippets of writing, and even famous people. I had customized it almost obsessively as a way to mark it as mine, a way of assuring myself.

"You've for that look again." A voice said and I shook my head. I was still standing in my room, but I was no longer a little girl.

"What look?" I responded to Ariana with a slight grin as she walked up to me. She moved to hug me from behind, her hands holding my stomach as I leaned back into her.

"That same look you've had all week. In the kitchen, in the halls, even when you're just standing here in the room." She pressed her lips to my cheek and I sighed.

"Just reminiscing." I informed her, laying my hands over her's.

"Yeah, yeah. Now go get dressed." She let me go with a little push, then swatted my ads lightly.

"Hey!" I called to her with a grin as I enter my closet to change. I pulled on a black floor length dress with long, skin tight sleeves.

I walked back out and smiled at my Girlfriend who grinned back before taking my hand in here and stroking the knuckles.

"Dad? It's time to go." I called to him from the other side of the door and he opened it. He made himself presentable in such a short time.

His hair was no longer a mess, his clothes were neat and unwrinkled, and he gave me a weak smile.

"You look very handsome, Dad." I told him as we walked out of his room and shut the door. As he did, I realized that he had two journals clutched to his chest.

Together, all three of us walked out the my car. Ariana took the back before either me or my father could say anything. Soberly, we all climbed into the car and drove. The viewing and the Funeral were held in the same place.

As we pulled up, I stared at everyone that had gathered. There was Grandma and Grandpa Nel and Mike standing beside the coffin. There was that same group of people from "Tuesday"'s death anniversary. Aunt Kirstie and Uncle Jeremy were there, while their son, Cooper, stood a little way away. What the hell was he doing here? He made his stance perfectly clear that he was against gay marriage, though I was fairly sure he had never let that slip to Aunt Kirstie.

But there were also people that I had never seen before. A couple that introduced themselves as Connor and Marcus, and a lady by the name of Emma.

I watched as Dad walked up to the coffin and looked at Papa, stroking his cheek. I could see the years in his eyes, refusing to accept comfort from anyone.

Soon, the funeral was started.

Stories were exchanged. There were some that I couldn't see as my father. It all seemed too impossible. My father was never one to show off. Sure he sang when he was cleaning, but he never flaunted it like some of the stories told.

When Dad stood up, I watched him closely.

"People used to ask me, "What's one word you would use to describe Mitch?" and there were so many. But the one that comes to mind the most was Fighter. Many of you knew Mitch when he was still recovering, or before it all happened. But I knew him while it happened. I was there as they hurt him. And yet, even then, he cared for others above himself. I never saw anyone so selfless." He paused, chest heaving as he forced back a sob. I could see him struggling to keep speaking.

It was a many moments before he could speak again. When he did again, he looked back at the coffin and spoke.

"When I lost you, I lost myself too. I feel lost and alone and I don't know what to do." He scrubbed at his eyes. "It's like a never ending nightmare of pain. It feels like nails are being driven into my heart then pulled out again. Night and day the prevailing thought in my head is that you're dead. I know I will never get over it, but somehow I have to get through it." He paused again, years falling down, his eyes a dark blue color. "I take small steps through the darkness, guided by my grieving heart, time and distance have disappeared as I've been torn apart. The grief road is long as it stretches lifelong so it's hard to carry on and be strong. But, you know that better than anyone, don't you? I know I'll be lost until I find you, so I look for you everywhere, I know you're there, I just can't see you. Sometimes I stop and star because I think I've seen you, but it's just someone who looks like you. I look at your photos, willing your eyes to give me a clue. Those beautiful brown eyes of yours." His words were strangled and it made my heart hurt. I gripped tightly to Ariana's hand.

"It's so hard to accept that I've lose you. I would walk endless miles through wind and rain and back again. I would climb mountains, walk through deserts and sail on stormy seas, I would walk until I fell to my knees. For every mile I would shed a tear, and for every year I would endure the pain. If only I could find you again." He didn't say anything else, just went to sit down.

All too soon, we were leaving my father. It was the last time I ever saw his face.

"God. I will miss you, Papa. I love you so, so much."

Mitchell Grassi-Hoying
1992-2026
Beloved Father, Husband, Son
The strongest of us all

~°~
So...I'm sorry. I made myself cry. But it's a Maddie P.O.V Chapter.

The book is almost to an end. I sorry.

Thank you so much to all of my beautiful readers and commenters who make this book worth writing.

Oh, and stay sexy
-Scomiche❤💛💚💙💜