Grief shattered my soul. It demanded to be felt. Exhaustion took what little left of energy I had left, making the world spin around me. My hands trembled, trying to zip the back of my black dress. It was uncomfortable and itchy, and the bandages on my back making it ten times worse.

Giving up, I slammed my hands down onto the vanity and dared to glance in the mirror. In the mirror, I see a once-vibrant gaze dulled by the weight of unshed tears. The face staring back at me bears the imprints of sleepless nights, a testament to the relentless ache of loss. Fingers trace over the empty spaces left behind, as if trying to grasp fragments of a reality now shattered. The mirror reflects not just my visage but the profound emptiness that grief has carved into the core of my being.

I cast my eyes down, unable to look at the mess of myself, heartbroken. I pushed myself away from the balcony and towards the balcony. We were back in Seattle. We arrived two days ago, all expenses paid for by Ronald Vazquez, the Executive Assistant Director of the FBI. My mom and Jed's funerals were also paid for too.

"Tarryn, you're gonna get sick," Matthew appeared beside me, gently taking my elbow and pulling me against him. "Why are you out here in the rain? Your bandages will get soaked."

"I can't get my zipper," I whispered against his chest. He wore a black dress shirt and black pants.

"I'll help you, just come inside."

Inside, I turned, lifting my hair. Matthew zipped my dress. We stood against each other for a moment. "Come on, we better get downstairs, bub."

Matthew held my hand going down the stairs, the pain in my bad extreme. I felt the pull of stitches in the middle of my back. "Do you need pain meds? Carson will dole them out for you."

I shook my head. "No. I'm okay."

As I turned the corner, my eyes met the familiar figure waiting for me. There, standing with open arms, was my adoptive father. Gratitude surged within me, and without hesitation, I lunged into his embrace.

"Dad," I whispered, the weight of emotions making my voice tremble. His arms enveloped me, providing a sense of security I hadn't realized I'd been yearning for.

"I missed you, Tarryn," he said, his voice a warm balm against the uncertainties that had plagued my journey.

The reunion held a profound sense of belonging, and in that embrace, I found solace. The world, with its twists and turns, momentarily faded away as I clung to the connection that defined family. I couldn't help the tears streaming down my face.

"She's gone. She's really gone," I cried, and my dad arms my arms, trying to comfort me.

"I know, sweetheart. I know."

"I miss her."

"She'll be missed by everyone," he murmured, and I cried into his shoulder, not caring my siblings were there to witness me blubber. They stood sniffling and wiping their bloodshot, teary eyes. "Your mom loved you Tarryn, she loved every single one of you. Never forget that."

"I won't."

After calming down, I stepped back and my eyes landed on Haisley who stood awkwardly at the end of the kitchen. "Uh, dad, have you met Haisley?"

He chuckled. "Yes, sweetheart, we've met."

"Good, good."

+++

I walked up the aisle, eyes focused on the black casket with white roses on the top, my heart quickening with each step. My dad and Carson walked ahead of me, Matthew and Haisley on either side of me, both gripping my hands tightly.

Behind us, Skyler and Trey walked with June, all of us with blotchy red eyes, sniffling. I was holding it together by a thread, which will break when I see her face, which the mortuary did a complete makeover for her - that's what dad assured me. Otherwise, it would have been a closed casket funeral.

When we reached the front pews, a heavy hush settled over the room, and I took a deep breath before facing the somber reality awaiting me.

Her face looked peaceful, she looked asleep, as if she would wake any moment. A massive ache in my chest formed, so emotionally strong it became physical.

"I miss you mom," I whispered, blinking back tears. Haisley took his turn next, tears streaming down his face.

"I'm sorry mom," he whispered, "I'm so sorry you never got to know me and I never got to know you."

I squeezed his arm before taking my seat next to my dad. He patted my arm and I leaned my head on his shoulder. Haisley accepted a gentle hug from June before taking his seat next to me, his hand finding mine. I squeezed his hand tight.

June got up and walked to the podium, taking a piece of folded paper from her dress pocket. The pastor moved aside and I gripped my twins hand, knowing this would be the hardest eulogy yet. She cleared her throat, before her eyes scanned the sombre crowd and spoke:

"Today, we gather to remember and celebrate the life of a remarkable woman, a wife, a mother, my mom – someone whose impact on our lives is immeasurable.

To describe her as a force to be reckoned with would be an understatement. She had this incredible ability to light up a room, to infuse joy into the most mundane moments. Her laughter was infectious, a melody that echoed through our shared memories. Even in times of hardship, she bore a strength that inspired everyone around her.

As her daughter, I had the privilege of witnessing the beauty of her love. She had this uncanny capability to make you feel seen, to offer comfort in the simplest gestures, even in our gravest mistakes. Her love was a constant presence, an anchor that held us together in the face of life's storms.

Our family, as imperfect and tangled as any, was a testament to her resilience. She navigated challenges with grace, her unwavering love serving as the glue that bound us. She taught us the importance of forgiveness, the power of understanding, and the strength found in unity.

In her absence, we are left with a void that can never be filled. She will not get to see me recover, she will not get to know her son, she will not get to see her children grown old and have children of our own: But let us not dwell solely on the pain of loss; instead, let us celebrate the countless moments of joy she gifted us. Let us carry forward the lessons she imparted, the love she generously shared.

As I say my goodbyes, let me remember her not with tears of sorrow but with smiles that reflect the warmth of her spirit. May the echoes of her laughter linger in our hearts, a reminder that love transcends the boundaries of time and space.

Rest in peace, mom. Your legacy of love will endure in the stories we share and the lives you've touched. Thank you for being my guiding light and my eternal source of love."

The eulogy concluded with a heartfelt pause, allowing the shared grief to linger briefly before the collective exhale of those present. A sob escaped and I burst into tears, burying my face into my brother's shoulder. He wrapped his arms around me, careful of my back.

"I wanna go home," I mumbled to my dad when the service finished, standing outside in the pouring rain. I wanted to go home and go to bed. I wanted to go home and sleep away this pain; if it would ever go away.

+++

A loud crash and shattering of glass woke me up from a nap. The hushed sobs echoed through the dimly lit hallway, reaching the corners of my solitude like a haunting melody. It was Haisley, my brother, unraveling in the quiet of his room. The air felt thick with grief, a tangible force that pressed down on my chest.

From a distance, I watched as Carson and Skylar approached his closed door, their voices carrying the weight of shared concern.

I stood in the shadows, a silent witness to the family I longed to protect, but felt utterly helpless to shield from the pain that now enveloped us. The smashing of things through the door were like ripples in the silence, desperate attempts to bridge the gap between Haisley's shattered heart and the solace offered by our brothers.

"Haisley, please open the door," Carson's plea drifted through the hallway, reaching the barricaded space where my brother grappled with the darkness.

Skylar's voice added its weight to the entreaty, an echo of shared pain and the enduring strength of familial bonds. "Buddy, we know it hurts. Let us help you through this. You're not alone."

The air inside his room seemed charged with an unspoken struggle, a battle between grief and the resilient attempts of love to pull him back from the edge. I remained an unseen presence, an observer to a scene that felt both intimate and distant.

The soft clink of a bottle being set down reverberated through the door, and for a moment, the room fell into a fragile quiet—a moment pregnant with the unspoken emotions that hung in the air like heavy storm clouds.

Carson and Skylar persisted, their words weaving a lifeline into the heart of Haisley's despair. "We're family, Haisley. You don't have to face this alone. Please, let us in."

"Haze, we're coming in," Skyler said, glancing at Carson, both of them nodding before using their shoulders to bust inside. They broke the door and went in, Haisley yelling at them.

"Get out, get the fuck out!"

"Haze ..."

"Get out, leave me alone!"

As minutes ticked away, I could sense the tension, heard the distraught negotiation between my brothers. Haisley didn't stop yelling, eventually bringing Matthew and Trey and June from their rooms. Trey came to stand beside me, trying to usher me back into my room, but I gently nudged him aside. From my distant vantage point, I could feel the weight of the night ahead—and I stepped forward, heading to the room that held my twin.

+++

Hi everyone.
Thanks for reading.
Only 1 or 2 more chapters left.
Let me know what your thoughts were for this chapter. What is going on with Haisley? Will the siblings come together to support him?

- Charlie 🧡