When Christopher had died, it had been harder than hard. In the blink of an eye, the fantasy, this dream life that they had both been talking of for years, disappeared. Only months earlier, they had talked about how they were going to dance so hard at their little son's wedding. And how proud they were going to be at his graduation. In a moment's notice – all those bubbles burst. It suddenly wasn't possible anymore. Christopher wasn't going to be there to experience anything at all and that was what broke Carole's heart the most.

She was a fixer. Finn wasn't going to miss anything. She would do a full-time job and still be both his mom and dad. She could do that.

She couldn't.

But he never blamed her. Whenever she would forget to pick him up from kindergarten, arriving fifteen minutes later than all the other parents, he would just babble about his day, as though she had been right on time. Instead of her original plan – where she did everything at the same time – they became a team. She cooked dinner, reminded him of his homework, and he mowed the lawn, told her the car wasn't supposed to make that terrible sound and didn't argue when she had to take an extra shift. They made it work. Together.

Her son might not be typically bright, but he was passioned, and in Carole's opinion that was a thousand times better. His heart was in everything he did. And when he decided he wanted to try out for football, he worked so hard for it. She had never been prouder than being there, in the stands, at his first game, cheering louder than any of the parents. And when he had smiled at her after the game, even though they had lost quite terribly, she was reminded of her late husband, and as she hugged their son tightly, she thought of how proud he would have been.

The entire ordeal with Finn, Quinn and the baby had been terrible for everyone. She had never felt worse than the night she spent holding her son in her arms as he cried his heart out. Cried for his relationship. Cried for his friendship. Cried for the baby that wasn't really his.

The next couple of weeks were hard. Finn hardly ate, didn't look like he slept, and the slightest mention of the baby sent him into something similar to panic attacks. He didn't cry anymore, just looked like all joy in life had left him and Carole almost thought that was worse than when he was crying. His passion had left him and with it her heart.

She was unashamed to say that she dropped the groceries in the foyer when she heard him humming for the first time since he found out. He must have just come home from school and from the sound of it were rummaging through the kitchen, little tunes leaving his mouth. Tears filled her eyes and she had to stop a sob from leaving her as Finn kept on humming, unaware to her presence. When she hears him going upstairs, she full on sobs for fifteen minutes, before finally carrying the groceries, including a now melted pint of ice cream, to the kitchen, deciding to cook Finn's favorite food for dinner.

His mood continues to get better, and hers with it, and every day shows her more of the old, passioned Finn that she had so missed. One day she can't help herself. She just has to know.

"It's so good to see you smiling." She blurts before she can really stop herself and he stops midsentence. For a second she is afraid that she ruined it. That he will somehow go back to looking like the dead. Instead, he smiles and laughs, his eyes lighting up.

"Rachel said the same today." She has heard about Rachel before. The bossy, sometimes annoying, but really dedicated leader of the Glee Club, but never before has she seen such a look on her son's face. Whoever Rachel really is, Carole can't help but feel like she has something to do with her son's mood and because of that, she already likes the girl.

She is tiny. That is the first thing that goes through Carole's mind, the first time she meets Rachel. The second is that she is absolutely stunning. The third that she looks nervous and unsure of herself, so different from the way Finn described her.

"Mom, this is Rachel, my girlfriend." When he had called Quinn that, Carole often had to stop herself from visibly grimacing. Now, she could only smile as Rachel stuck out her hand, saying the normal niceties. One look at her son and Carole decided to forego the handshake, going straight for the hug, obviously shocking the girl. Beside them, she could hear Finn laugh.

"It's so good to meet you, Rachel. Finn has told me so much about you." It is sort of a lie, because Finn really hasn't told her anything, but the way he has been behaving tells her more than any description could.

She is vegan; not because of a diet, but because she simply doesn't believe in killing animals, not that she would stop others from eating meat if they so choose to. She loves cookies – unlike Quinn – and eats multiple of the ones Carole made, calling them the best thing in the world. And the way Finn looks at her, like she is his entire world, makes it hard for Carole to dislike her in any way.

And the way Rachel talks of her boy, of his accomplishments in both football and Glee, makes Carole heart ache, because she slowly realizes that she isn't the only one loving him for every part of him – good and bad – anymore. This small, petite, fast talking girl in front of her does too. And by the end of the night, she has asked her to call her Carole fifteen times, when Rachel finally gives in and does, and Carole can't help but think that she had gained a daughter as Finn pulls out of their driveway to drive his girlfriend home.

When they get married, five years later, Carole knows she has.

Christopher may not have been there to love or see his son as he went through life, but she is certain that he would have been as proud as she is. And as she sits with Finn, a year after his marriage, listening to his thousands concerns about parenthood, she lets him in on this secret.

The situation may not have been ideal, but as Rachel likes to tell her, she really did raise an amazing boy.