this,” I say in a panic. “This isn’t real. I can’t be here.”
“How about we just sit in this room for a little while?” Sherry suggests.
I feel Brick’s hand on my lower back.
“I think that’s a good idea, mama,” he tells his mother.
He guides me to a chair in the farthest corner, and we sit. Every chair is filled by the time I look up. Brick is sitting beside me, and his mom is on the other side of him. Bella and Sophia are taking up the last two. Trigger and Ink are standing by the door, looking around. Most likely to make sure everything is fine.
I’m not worried about being taken. Not anymore. The fear left the moment my dad died. I feel so guilty. He was stressed, and that’s most likely what caused his heart attack.
Brick doesn’t agree. He told me that he also feels guilt about keeping my father and me apart since I was found. But he was adamant that my father’s health problems was not because of anything either of us did.
My head wants to believe him, but my heart doesn’t.
I lean against Brick, close my eyes, and think of happy thoughts about my daddy. He was such a kind, caring, and funny man. I’m going to miss him with every single breath I take for the rest of my life.
I think about our life after mom left. It was hard at first, but dad never let me believe he was sad. He would make me laugh and tell me silly stories about his fighters. He would make me food, take me to school and bring me home.
He was a good daddy, and I was never unhappy.
“It’s almost time to start,” someone whispers.
Opening my eyes, I see Bear kneeling down in front of me. The feeling of happiness from moments ago is pushed to the back of my mind as I prepare myself to see my daddy.
Bear stands, and Brick and I follow him to the door leading into the main room.
Lord, I know that I don’t pray enough. I think the first time I ever prayed was when I was locked away. But I beg you, Lord, to please give me the strength to make it through the next few hours.
With a deep breath, I step into the room, purposefully avoiding the casket as we walk by. The room is filled with people. My dad’s friends and fighters take up the majority of the room. Some people are crying; others are laughing as they tell stories about dad.
I smile kindly as I walk to the back of the line and wait my turn. I’m in no hurry to make it up front. Before I know it, though, there’s only one more person in front of me.
I’m relatively short, so I can’t see much from this far away. I glance up at Brick and watch the agony on his face as he stares at my dad. I wrap both of my arms around his right arm and rest my forehead against him.
The person in front of us, one of my dad’s neighbors, turns, and walks away.
I can’t do this.
“I got you, baby,” Brick whispers. “I got you.”
Knowing that I’ll regret it for the rest of my life if I don’t say goodbye, I take the first step forward.
I watch the floor until we reach the casket. Then with a deep breath, I look up.
I can’t tell if my heart speeds up or stops altogether. I see my daddy, dressed in a nice button-up shirt, hands placed against his lower stomach, skin paler than normal, eyes closed as if he’s simply sleeping.
I know I’m looking at my dad, but something feels off. Something feels different. Like this man is my dad, but he’s not.
His soul. That’s what’s different. The part that made him who he was is gone.
That’s when it hits me hard. My daddy is dead, and I’ll never see him again.
I lean against my father’s final resting bed and cry.
I scream out my agony, hoping that it will ease the ache in my heart. Only it doesn’t. It makes me cry harder. Scream louder. I don’t stop until my tears have dried up, and Brick practically carries me to a seat in the front.
A preacher says some words that I can’t remember. People stand up and talk about things I can’t remember. I watch as some of my dad’s fighters and some of the Sons carry his casket out to the waiting hearse.
I use