Large, rough fingers slid over the glass. If he stared long enough, he could see it in his mind. The smile. The laugh. He could hear the loud stories and happy chatter. He could imagine it all.
Filbrick placed the frame back down. Stanley's glowing smile beaming at him as he ran a tired hand over his eyes.
You could ask anyone who had ever met him, Filbrick was not an emotional man. But that didn't mean they weren't there, brewing beneath a surface of stone. He had been taught, from a young age, that showing emotion was weak. That it made you vulnerable.
Life had never been easy for him. He grew up under his father's shadow, his mother dead. It turned him into a hard man. With a harsh outlook on the world. Yet nothing...nothing had prepared him for the pure agony he felt as he watched his son get lowered into the ground.
He wasn't expecting it when it got worse.
Filbrick watched as Stanford mourned the loss of his twin. He saw the pain, settled over his son's face like a shadow. He held his wife as she cried, heaving, ugly sobs he had hoped to never witness.
Each time they frowned, each time they searched for silent comfort, Filbrick was there. Although it wasn't always hugs and tissue paper, he did his best to help.
A gloom had fallen over the Pines household. Stanford had come over for the funeral and hadn't left since. Filbrick wasn't bothered enough to mention it. Even if Stanford was ready to leave, his wife, Gigi, certainly wasn't ready to let him go.
He wondered if that was wise. Having someone who looked so much like the one they'd lost...it couldn't be healthy. He determined that if she slipped and called Stanford Stanley then Stanford should go.
Fortunately, it hadn't happened yet. So for the time being, all he could do to hold them all together.
Filbrick was wiser than his own father, he knew that Stanley's death was on his head.
He sighed as he rose from his seat. Leaving the picture frame behind him. He only glanced back for a moment before leaving the room.
I wasn't good enough for you...son.