That One Game.

a f t e r - r a y n e e

I'd always thought I'd plan my daughters wedding. We had talked about it before. Grace wanted white everything, from white chair covers to white roses.

But instead, I'm planning her funeral.

I'd always thought it would be Grace crying into books about different coffins, but I soon realised fate didn't want that.

It took a while to finally get to grips on what had actually happened to my only daughter. I had a bad feeling that night, I even told Grace that. She reassured me nothing could go wrong and kissed me.

That was the last kiss I got from Grace.

For a couple of days, I got people coming round and giving me food and other gifts which had no use for. I didn't need much but what I did need... Well she was gone.

"Raynee, honey, we need to leave." Eric called from the front door as I sat in Grace's room.

Her room still had her scent, only slightly but I could smell it. It reminded me of my baby girl. We tried to sort her room out before, but we couldn't do it. We couldn't move or throw out the last pieces of Grace we held.

It would be like throwing gold into a lake.

I sigh as I get up. It was today.

I didn't know whether today would give me closure or if it woud just make this nightmare more realistic.

Today is Grace's funeral.

I let my black high heels hit the stairs, sending out vibrations that could probably be heard through-out this silent house. Matthew and Eric were stood at the door. Matthew with stray tears falling down his face and Eric trying to hold it together for all of us.

I choke back a sob, seeing my son cry over the death of his sister is something I thought I would never see.

Life is a bitch.

I walk up to Matthew and open up my arms. He gladly takes them, resting his head on my shoulder. His sobs are filled with longing and loss, just two of the things that we have in common. Matthew takes a baby step backwards. I bring my hand up to his face and caress his cheek.

I just want to take his pain away.

I feel Eric's calloused hands rest on my dress clad shoulders. Her rubs circles with his thumb, which is the only bit of normality in my life.

"Are we ready?" I choke out, wiping away from tears.

Thank goodness for waterproof mascara.

"Hell no." Matthew says, grabbing my hands and leading me out of the house.

We sit in the car in silence. No radio and suprisingly no tears either.

We reach the church too quickly for my liking. After just a five minute drive, I'm walking up the path to the church.

My feet instantly lead me to the pews, ignoring everyone. I block out noise and sound and just will this to be over.

I shouldn't be at my daughters funeral. But I am.