≫ Summary: Cole gives the eulogy at a funeral.

≫ Warnings: Mentions of death and loss. Maybe have some tissues on hand...

≫ Note(s): This is a re-post from my old multifandom book (I took it down), but since it's Ninjago I thought I'd share it here. This was originally posted on Mother's Day lol :,,)

***

Cole has never been a funeral type of guy.

He's only been to two in his life. The first was for his Aunt Jasmine, which he was too young to even remember. The second was for his father's father, who he felt bad about, but hadn't known well enough to really mourn over. As such, he's forgotten how uncomfortable it is to stand in a stuffy funeral home, trying (and failing) to not sweat through his suit. He's also forgotten how completely and utterly depressing it all is.

The few guests—a handful of relatives from both sides of the family—make idle conversation as they head to their seats. Does it make things a little less awkward? Sure. But it does nothing to dispel the aura of sadness that permeates the room. As much as everyone tries to remain positive, they all know they've lost someone, and that knowledge hovers over them like a thick, suffocating smog.

It's all the more depressing considering who they've lost.

Cole sighs. His eyes are already red and burning, and he blinks to keep a fresh wave of moisture from spilling. He's cried enough tears these past few weeks to last him a lifetime. A few escape anyway, forcing him to squint through them as he turns his head. Across the room, away from where the warm light of the windows can reach, sits his mother's casket. His feet feel like bricks as he moves toward it, each step heavy and painful.

She's wearing a simple dress the color of lilacs in the summer, a stark contrast from the plain nightgown he'd gotten used to seeing her in. Her raven hair is pinned in a neat updo, now secured by what must be a gallon of hairspray, and her skin is coated in a layer of airbrushed makeup. He isn't sure why. Maybe it's to make her look more lively and refreshed, as if she's only resting. If that's the case, he doesn't get why they'd bother with that, since everyone knows she'll never leave that casket again. All he knows is she never would've dressed up that much.

Even so, she's still the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. Nothing in Ninjago could ever change that.

Cole sniffs, wiping harshly at his eyes with his sleeve, at the sound of light footsteps drawing near. A familiar presence appears by his side. He knows who it is, but he doesn't look up.

"She looks lovely, doesn't she?" Lou murmurs next to him.

His son's eyes remain trained on the casket. "When didn't she?"

There's a few beats of silence. The two of them stand there, side-by-side, as father and son. Neither dare to look each other in the eye, so instead they gaze downward, at the woman they've both lost. It feels like an eternity before Lou finally clears his throat. "I just wanted to say...thank you for planning the brunt of this, son. I know this hasn't been easy on you."

"You should've been there."

The older man's expression falters. "Cole..."

"You should have," his son repeats, more forcefully this time. He stares at his father, his gaze cold and unflinching. "She was my mother as much as she was your wife. You should've been at home with me, helping me plan this funeral. Not palling around with your dance buddies."

Lou winces, eyes glimmering with the faintest hint of tears. "People grieve in different ways, son. Maybe you'll understand when you're older." A strangled sigh escapes him and he averts his gaze. "But, for what it's worth...I am sorry."

Cole scoffs. Maybe it's just him, but singing and dancing doesn't seem like a proper way to mourn a loved one. Some choice words for his father sit on the tip of his tongue, but he bites them back. Lilly probably wouldn't appreciate her son and husband cursing each other out at her funeral. Instead, he gives a stiff nod before staring at his feet.

"Well," Lou says quietly. "Are you ready to speak?"

Cole straightens up. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out the small stack of note cards on which he'd written his speech. When his father asked him to give the eulogy all those weeks ago, he'd almost refused on the spot. After all, why do anything for the man who'd done nothing for him? It took some time, but the young Brookstone had ultimately agreed—not for his father's sake, but for his mother's. He chews his lip as he makes his way to the front of the room, moving to the podium and clearing his throat.

"Um, good evening."

The small crowd hushes at the sound of his voice. Cole's heart drops to his stomach, his chest constricting, as a dozen pairs of eyes focus on him. He's acutely aware of his father watching him from off to the side. The young man swallows, taking a deep breath, before continuing.

"My name is Cole. Cole Brookstone, but um, you probably knew that."

He coughs and grits his teeth. Keep going, Cole. Get it together.

"As you know, we're gathered here to celebrate the life of Lilly Brookstone. She went by a lot of titles...daughter, lover, wife...but I knew her as my mother. And she was the best mom in the world." He takes a scant breath before continuing. "She was sick almost my entire life. I never thought much of it when I was little...I thought it was something like the flu or a cold, something that would go away after a while. But as I grew up, I watched her get sicker and sicker, and there was nothing I could do about it."

His mind floods with childhood memories. Many of them are faint and fuzzy, sanded away over the years, but still very much there. Others have been lost to time, leaving nothing but bits and pieces in their place.

"I remember so much and so little about her at the same time," he says. "I remember how she and my Pop would dance in the moonlight in front of our old house, and how amazing it was to watch from my bedroom window as a kid. At the same time...I can't remember a time when her laugh wasn't tinged with pain, or when she didn't cough when she spoke to me. I can say, though...I do remember the promise I made her."

He pauses, his chest heaving as he takes a deep breath. Tears start to well along his lashes, burning like flames, but he pushes himself to keep going.

"I've never really believed in promises. After all, half the time they're not even kept." His mind wanders to the words his father used to tell him: "Don't worry, son. Your mother's going to be just fine, I promise." When that turned out to be a lie, he'd said, "We'll get through this together, I promise." So much for that.

Cole exhales. His mother's words come drifting back to him, whispering softly but clearly in his head. He swears he can still hear her voice, feel her strong yet gentle embrace. For a few moments, it fills him with fire, pulsing from his core through the rest of his body.

"But before my mother died, she asked me to promise that I would always stand up to those who are cruel and unjust. I told her I would." He swipes at his moistening eyes. "Sometimes, I wonder if I'm strong enough to keep that promise. But...well, for her, I have to try. So I'm gonna. And I ask all of you to do the same. Promise that, no matter what happens, you'll continue to do what's right. Always."

He sniffs as, just as quickly as it had been born, the fire within him dies. "Thank you."

Courteous applause fills the room as the speech draws to a close. Given the atmosphere, nobody cheers, but it's clear from everyone's expressions that they're impressed. Cole nods to his audience and makes his leave. Lou waits for him as he makes his way down from the podium. His eyes shine with pride through their sadness, a small smile on his face as he pats him on the back. "Well said, son."

Cole can only nod with thanks. His gaze shifts back to his mother's casket, noticing how the glass shines in the dim light of the room.

He closes his eyes, hoping that even in the Departed Realm, she's proud of him.