They knew it was coming. There was no surprise. It didn't help to ease the pain, though. Strip watched as they lowered the closed casket into the ground. He was numb all over, and there were no tears left to cry. Cal was parked close beside him with the waterworks flowing like a river. Only a few close family members were present at the service that dreary, drizzly day. Strip thought back over the last couple days.
Her illness had taken a turn for the worse, and they both reluctantly had to accept her fate. They spent every last moment together, Strip caring for her every need. He tried to act happy around her, to make her last few days better, but he'd break down when she slept. She didn't appear to be any different from the outside, but he could tell something was wrong in the way she acted. One day, Cal had come over to see her and spend time with her. Things felt just like they had always been, but after Cal left, Lynda looked confused, and after Strip asked what was wrong, she asked "Who was that?".
Two days later, they were parked in their bedroom, sidled up next to each other and watching a movie. It had just ended and the sun was setting outside. Lynda looked out the window and commented on how beautiful it was. Strip felt a sense of urgency come over him suddenly, and looked at her, just sitting there, beautiful as ever.
"Lynda, there's a lot I never thanked you for." he started slowly, his voice ragged. "And I don't know where to start."
"Shh." she calmed him. "You don't need to thank me for anything. You've given me everythin' I ever wanted. Every experience, every memory you gave me. They're all wonderful. I couldn't ask for anything more. I'm happy, Strip, I'm happy."
She paused a moment before continuing. Strip felt a few tears roll down his hood and across his fenders. He wasn't even trying to be strong anymore. It didn't matter.
"Hey, listen." she went on, her voice small. "I know this isn't going to be easy on you. But I want you to remember us as we were. As we are right now. Perfect. You know I'll always be around. I still gotta take care of you, you know."
"I know, Lyn, I know." he said, voice breaking. He was trembling. His everything was about to be taken from him, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.
She continued to try and comfort him. She'd only seen him cry once or twice in all their years of being together, and she hated to see him like this. But she knew he was doing his best. Had their roles been reversed, she knew she'd be a complete mess as well. She was surprised at herself for being so calm through all this. She wasn't afraid of death. She'd lived a full and happy life, thanks to Strip.
Once he collected himself, they started to reminisce about the things she still remembered. They talked late into the night. The mood eventually brightened as they reflected on the past, and they both fell asleep pleasantly happy.
She never woke up.
His world shattered. He tried to wake her up, but soon realized how unnaturally cold she was. He completely fell apart and let himself go, sobbing and weeping. He gave her one last soft kiss before the coroner arrived. They came to take her body away, and for the first time he was truly alone. He felt paralyzed. He sat in the middle of their- his empty house and felt the world cave in on itself.
The days leading up to the funeral were nothing but a blur in an alternate plane of existence. He wasn't aware of the things going on around him. It was all background noise. Cal had to come to the house to get him when it was time to leave for the viewing. His uncle looked absent from his own body, unperceptive of anything. Every interaction became an automated response, every word tinged with the void that was left in his soul.
They filled the grave in and everyone started to leave the cemetery. Strip looked at the headstone, and saw his name engraved right next to hers, his date of manufacture, but lacking the date of death. He knew someday he'd see her again. One day he'd get to lie beside her again. His own mortality became incredibly vivid.
Soon, he and Cal were the only ones left beside the fresh mound of flower-covered soil. Cal had quieted up to breathing small, shaky breaths. Neither one of them moved. Strip considered some of the last things she'd told him. She was happy with her life. Everything was okay. She was still around, whether he knew it or not.
He was still miserable. He feared talking because he knew he'd break down again. Deep down, he knew he needed to continue mourning for his own sake, but he was already so weak. How much more could he take? He felt like he left a piece of his soul there with her as he and Cal drove away.
Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. Time seemed to cease to exist. Eventually the raw wound seemed to close over as Strip tried to dwell on the positives, but a bad day would come around every now and again and set him back. He was alone in an empty house that was full of the life they'd made together. There was nothing for him to do except sit around and reflect on their history.
One day, he got a phone call. He thought about letting it go to the answering machine, but something drove him to pick up the call. It was Tex.
"Hey, King." the familiar southern drawl was an immediate comfort. "Everything goin' alright up there?"
"Best as it can be, I guess." Strip answered. "Just tryin' to stay busy."
"Well, I'm real sorry about everythin'. I've been trying to get a hold of you for a while now." Tex continued, genuine in his speech. "I think I have an opportunity that can help you out. If you're interested of course."
"Shoot." he gave the go ahead. He had literally nothing better to do, and could use something to keep him preoccupied.
"Your old crew chief just retired, and I need someone with some sense to help this nephew of yours out on the track." Tex said with a slight laugh. "The kid means well, but there's a lot of room for improvement."
"You're offerin' me a job?" Strip asked, confused. "As crew chief? For Cal?"
"Wouldn't want anyone else to do it." Tex said.
Strip considered it, but it only took a moment for him to decide. Focusing on teaching Cal would give him something to look forward to, to live for again. Getting back in the racing scene would clear his mind. Lynda would want him to. She'd tell him to go do what he felt he needed to do, and she'd support him all the way. She wouldn't want him to rust away, sitting alone in his house for the rest of his life, now would she?
"I think you've got yourself a deal." Strip said, half smiling for the first time in a very long time.