Yesterday

Chapter 26

CHARLOTTE'S POV

The next few days were one big blur to me.

The boys insisted on coming to the wake with me. I argued, but they wouldn't back down.

"Of course we wanna be there for ya, Char," George had said, giving me a small, sympathetic smile. I could tell that he still felt bad about that day in the park.

The wake was absolutely awful. Not in the way that I didn't want to be there, because of course I did, but I was almost always surrounded by friends of my father that I never even knew, all trying to offer me comfort that I had no interest in receiving. If I heard someone ask me if I was okay one more time, I was going to scream. I had to admit, it was helpful having the boys there, especially Paul. He would occasionally give my hand a reassuring squeeze, or give me a look with those hazel, doe-like eyes; which always sent temporary waves of calmness through my body, but I also could tell that he knew when I needed my space.

The night seemed to drag on forever, and finally it was just me, the boys, and Martin as he said his final goodbyes. He gave me a big hug. I felt bad for him, he was suffering nearly as much as I was. "Good night Charlotte, I'll see you tomorrow morning?" I nodded, trying not to think about the day ahead of me. Giving my shoulder one last affectionate squeeze, he turned around and left. I let out a long sigh as the door closed behind him. I turned around to see four big pairs of eyes staring at me.

"Want us to help you get all these flowers out into Brian's car?" Ringo asked. Before I could answer, the boys all filed into the larger room containing my father's casket and started picking up the many bouqets of flowers. Paul was the last one out the door. He turned and faced me. "I'll distract the other lads, if you want a minute alone," he said, brushing his hand across my cheek. His touch sent a chill down my spine, and I smiled. "Yes, thank you Paul." He smiled back and went out into the cold, shutting the door behind him.

I glanced back towards the direction of my father's casket and slowly made my way over to it. Kneeling down, I felt the tears building up behind my eyes. "Oh Dad..." I began, leaning over the edge of the casket to get a better look at him. He looked very...

Peaceful.

His eyes were lightly shut, and his expression seemed pleasant. I noticed the poorly-concealed, purple bruises decorated in a thick ring around his neck, and the realization hit me that Martin had never actually told me how my father had died. Tears streaming down my face, I put a hand over my mouth. 

My father had hung himself?

"I'm so sorry Dad, for everything," I sobbed. "I don't know why we had to lose Elizabeth, but we did, and I was too depressed to notice that you were just upset as I was." Big tears welled up in my eyes and flowed down my cheeks. "I'm sorry that our family had to fall apart like this. I-I should have been there for you. Mom should have been there." I slowly leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek, and with that I shut the casket.

At that very moment, I heard the door slowly creak open. "Aye Char, are ye in there? Paulie is talkin' our ears off out there and I'm starvin'." I heard a distressed Paul call from behind. "John, wait! I have to ask you your opinion on, uh, this new song I've written..."

I laughed through my tears. "Paul, it's okay, I'm ready to go." John noticed I was crying and walked over to me, putting a comforting arm around my shoulder. 

"I know it's tough, love," he said solemnly. "I know how ye must be feelin'. Don't worry, it gets better." I sniffled as I recalled that his mother had died too, from a car accident with a drunk driver. It was comforting to know that someone else could relate to what I was going through. I looked up at John and smiled. "Let's go home."

We made our way over to the door, where Paul greeted with me with an outstretched arm. Taking his hand, we walked out into the cold and got into the car. The ride was silent as we all mentally prepared for the next day. Well, at least that's what I was doing.

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The next day was painful, as expected. 

The church service began at 9:00 A.M. We had to limit the amount of people there, due to the fact that there were four world-famous musicians attending and the last thing we needed was the press there. I sat in the front-row pew, alongside the four Beatles. Throughout the mass, several people were called up to the podium to say a few nice words about my father, including Martin. Lastly, I was called up to say some final words about my father before we buried him. I gave Paul a nervous look as I made my way to the front, but he had a reassuring look in his eyes.

It's okay Charlotte, you've got this. Don't be nervous. Just speak from your heart.

I took a deep breath into the microphone before I began. "My father was a wonderful man," I started, trembling in all the eyes staring up at me, eager to hear what I was going to say. "He was funny, intelligent, and understanding. He was always the dad at holiday parties and family outings that made a fool of himself, like the time that he split his pants during the family volleyball game at the family reunion a few years back." The few people who had been at that particular family gathering laughed out loud as they recalled the hilarity of my father running around the backyard with a giant tear running up the back of his pants. I smiled weakly. "I had always been a daddy's girl, and I trusted him more than I trusted my mother. Me and-and my sister Elizabeth couldn't have asked for a better father to grow up with." I could feel the tears in my eyes, and I silently begged them to go away. I could see a few people in the audience who were tearing up, too.  And either my eyes were playing tricks on me, or I saw Ringo wiping a tear off of his cheek.

I looked down for a moment, trying to regain my composure. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I can't say anymore."

Once I had finished speaking, everyone filed out of the church and we all made our way over to the grave site. Everyone stood around in silence as they lowered the casket down into the cold ground, roses strewn across the top of it. People began to say their goodbyes and leave as they began pouring dirt on top of the casket, burying it. Soon, me and the boys were the only ones left.

"Goodbye, Dad," I whispered as the last load of dirt was dumped, completing the burial.

Now all there was left to do was wait, and allow time to heal all wounds, like John said. It seemed easy enough.

Right?