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But Dad’s voice was the one I kept listening for.

Afterward, everyone kept telling me how proud he would’ve been, and somehow that made it worse. I didn’t want to hear what Dad would’ve been. I wanted him standing there telling me himself.

There wasn’t a celebration. I didn’t want one. I changed out of my cap and gown, put my degree away, and went back to planning my father’s funeral.

Now, only days later, I stood in front of the mirror dressed in black, staring at a version of myself I barely recognized.

Today, I had to bury him.

I moved when someone told me where to go, sat when I was supposed to sit, and accepted food I barely touched. Most of the day seemed to happen around me without really registering.

The church was dim and filled with the smell of lilies. Every time I looked toward the front, my eyes went straight to Dad’s closed casket. Stained-glass windows filtered weak, colored light across his casket at the front, making the polished wood gleam. I sat between Leanne and Richard in the front pew. Leanne held my left hand tightly, her thumb stroking soothing circles across my knuckles. Richard’s arm was wrapped securely around my shoulders on the right, his solid warmth a constant anchor as he leaned in occasionally to press a kiss to my temple or murmur low reassurances only I could hear.

When the officiant quietly asked if anyone would like to speak, Richard gave my hand a gentle squeeze.

“You don’t have to,” he whispered.

But something inside me pushed me forward anyway. I stood on shaky legs and walked to the podium, gripping the edges so hard my knuckles turned white. My heart hammered as every eye in the church turned toward me.

“Hi… um, most of you know me. I’m Samantha, Henry’s daughter.” My voice cracked almost immediately. I swallowed hard, eyes burning. “My dad was a great father. The kind who showed up, no matter what. He taught me how to ride a bike, stayed up late helping me with science projects even when he was exhausted from work, and made the best pancakes in the world just because I loved them.” A weak, tearful laugh escaped me before it turned into a sob. “He was stubborn and protective, and he loved me even when I didn’t make it easy.”

I paused, tears spilling freely now. My gaze drifted to the casket. “There are so many things I wish I’d said the last time I saw him. Things I thought I’d have another chance to say because I never imagined there wouldn’t be another time. Dad, if you can hear me... I’m sorry for every time I didn’t tell you enough how much I loved you. You were my rock, even when I pushed against you. I love you. I will always love you. Thank you for being my dad.”

My voice broke completely on the last words. I stepped back from the podium, legs trembling. Richard was already there, meeting me halfway and guiding me back to the pew. Leanne wrapped her arm around me tightly from the other side as I buried my face in Richard’s chest, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Both of them held me close through the rest of the service, their presence the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely.

At the graveside, a cold wind whipped across the cemetery, tugging at coat hems and scattering fallen leaves around the open grave. The casket lowered inch by inch into the dark earth. I watched every movement, each one slicing deeper into the hollow ache inside my chest.

Goodbye, Dad. I’m sorry I left angry. I love you.

Tears fell freely and cold on my cheeks. Richard kept his arm locked around my waist while Leanne stood pressed to my other side, her hand never leaving mine. The condolences, the hugs, the murmured sympathies all blurred together. I barely heard any of it. All I could think about was our last conversation and everything I would never get the chance to say.

Back at the house, people ate and shared stories about Dad. I thanked them without absorbing much of what they said.

Leanne stayed after the last guests left. The catering staff moved quietly through the house, clearing plates, folding chairs, and gathering the flower arrangements. Leanne remained beside me while I wandered into the living room. Neither of us talked much. There wasn’t anything left to say after spending an entire day listening to people tell me how sorry they were.

Leanne touched my arm. “Sam, come sit with me for a minute.”

I followed her to the couch where Dad used to watch games and sat beside her. The house had been filled with people less than an hour ago, but with the guests gone and the staff finishing in the other rooms, I could finally feel how empty it was.

Leanne reached for my hand.

“I hate that I have to leave tomorrow.”

I stared down at our hands. “Then don’t.”

It came out before I could stop it.

Leanne’s face crumpled slightly. “You know I would stay if you really needed me to.”

“No.” I shook my head, wiping beneath my eyes. “No, I’m being selfish. You can’t do that.”

“Sam.”

“You’ve been waiting for this forever. You got the agency. You’re going to New York, and then Paris and Milan and wherever else they send you. I’m not letting you give that up because my life fell apart.”

“I don’t give a shit about any of that if you’re not okay.”

“I don’t think I’m going to be okay for a while.”