My sister and her husband show up too, slipping into the pew behind us and placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.
"I wish I'd met her under different circumstances," she whispers.
"Me too," I murmur.
Skye clings to me, and I don't let go, not once.Even when her father and his new wife arrive.Skye stiffens beside me but doesn't move.They take seats toward the back.
Skye doesn't speak during the service.She stares at the casket as if it belongs to a stranger, her hands knotted tightly in her lap.When it's time to speak, she doesn't stand right away.
"I think I should say something," she whispers."But I don't know if I can."
"If you feel like you want to, I'll be right there with you.You don't have to get through it alone."
She nods and clutches the folded piece of paper she pulled from her purse.Her eyes stay locked on the front of the room as she walks slowly to the podium.The room is silent.She unfolds her note and stares at it.
"My mom...wasn't perfect," she begins, voice shaking."But she tried.She worked two jobs after my dad left us so I didn't have to go without.Some days I'd see her only for a moment as she was home changing and getting ready for her next job.We'd have a few minutes to eat, then I was on my own again.As a kid, I hated it, but as an adult, I understand now, and I never told her that."
Her hands tremble, and she looks up at the sea of faces."Despite working two jobs, she showed up for all my plays, my games, and even chaperoned a few school field trips.She was all I had.So, when she became sick..."
She stops.Her voice catches.Her hands clutch the paper tighter.
"I made sure to be there for her.Whatever she needed — grocery shopping, dinners several times a week, and helping to and from doctor’s appointments.I thought she'd beat this and we'd have more time.I wish...We were supposed to have more time," she whispers."More mornings.More holidays.More fights.More makeups.Just...more."
Her voice breaks completely.Her shoulders shake as the sobs rise.
I'm out of my seat in a flash, reaching her just as the paper slips from her hands.She turns into me, burying her face in my chest.Holding her tight, I shield her from the crowd while murmuring soft reassurances into her hair.
I nod to the funeral director, who steps in to guide us gently back to our seats.The room now brims with emotion, and tears are shining in many eyes.
Even though she had more to say, when the funeral director indicates she can return up front, she just shakes her head.So I step up instead, telling a story about her mom's strength and her quiet love for Skye.I keep it simple.Honest.My voice only cracks once.
As the service ends, people start filing past us, offering condolences and awkward hugs.That's when they show up.The guys from Club Red.Each one in a black suit, subdued and respectful.They nod to me, then to Skye.
Then her father walks over toward us.
He's tall, clean-cut, and dressed like a man who never has to check a price tag.His new wife stands beside him, young and polished, with a sympathetic smile.
Skye goes stiff beside me.I can feel it in the way her fingers dig into my arm.Skye barely acknowledges him, her hand tightening around mine.He nods to me, offering a business card.
"If she ever needs anything, even if it's just a new toothbrush or car trouble, call me."
I take the card with a tight nod.
He shifts awkwardly before glancing at Skye."I know I don't deserve to be here.But I wanted to pay my respects.I wanted to see her."
Skye's lips are tight, her eyes wary."You saw her."
He flinches slightly."I'm sorry, Skye.For everything.I wasn't the father you needed.I was selfish, and I let you down."
Skye doesn't say anything.
Her stepmother steps in gently."Skye, if there's anything we can do, we'd like to try.Not to replace what was lost, but to be here now."
Her stepmother pulls her into a hug.Skye hesitates, then melts into it for a moment.When they pull apart, there are tears in her stepmother's eyes.
"You're stronger than you think," she whispers to Skye.
Skye nods, but doesn't speak.
