Best Siblings Forever (I Love You to Paris & Back)

Chapter 23-Growing Up

A few days later, my Dad returns home. Heartbroken with the news of his mother-in-law's death, he throws in all of his energy into helping us plan her funeral.

On a sunny day in May, my grandma is placed into the ground and we all stand around, listening to the preacher give a few closing words and read the 23rd Psalm.

I listen while staring at my feet. I'm trying to concentrate, but it's not working very well because I keep having flashbacks of when I was kid and what my Grandma used to do for me. I remember the bandaged cuts and scrapes, the tucking in at night when I went to bed, the help with homework, the hugs and cookies when I got home after school. My Grandma sacrificed so much for Elise and I both. She helped out like no other person could have. The ironic thing is, she's the grandma on my Mom's side of the family.

Maybe she felt responsible; maybe she felt like since her daughter was the one who left us, something had to be done. Who better than her to step in and do it?

I force my mind back to the present. Squeezing Elise's hand, I look to my left to see Liam's somber face staring at the ground like mine was a few minutes ago. Next to him stands my Dad, a stony expression masked on his face. I see the emotion behind his eyes, though.

As the funeral finishes, we make our way back to our cars. I drove with Liam and Elise and then Dad drove separately.

"You guys go on ahead," my father says in a gruff voice. "I'll be by later."

"All right." I put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't be too long."

He nods, once, not meeting my eyes, before turning on his heel and strolling down toward the cemetery again, not looking back.

My father doesn't return home until late that night, when Liam and Elise are yawning and saying that they need to go to bed. I can't make myself turn in, though. So I sit on the couch in the living room in my pajamas alone, staring at the blank TV screen. This is one night where I just don't feel like watching television.

I just want to think about my grandmother and the impact she's had on my life. This is a day to remember her, celebrate her life, mourn her death. I don't find tears waiting for me, though. I find the emotional pain of her death a lot harder to work through than I thought it would be.

The door opens, breaking me out of my silent reverie.

I slide off of the couch and meet my dad in the kitchen. The first thing I notice is his watery eyes. I can tell he's been crying, but I'm not used to such raw emotion coming from him. After the day that my Mom left, he's always been careful to keep his emotions in check, not letting them be displayed for anyone until he is by himself.

"Are you all right?" I ask him slowly, taking in his tattered appearance.

A shaky sigh escapes him. "I wasn't here."

I don't try to say anything; I let him speak.

"I wasn't here when she died. I was overseas, trying not to feel guilty about leaving Elise, but it wasn't working." Another sigh. "I was wrong."

"I should have been here," he says, a little louder. "If I'd have stayed, I could have helped Elise and I could have been here for Helen's death."

"Do you want to sit down somewhere?" I ask him quietly.

He nods and we take a seat at the kitchen table.