Special Thank You to .
You were backstage waiting for your husband's concert to finish. You were currently in France, starting off the European leg of the tour. It had been a few years since the three of them had toured together. All three best-friends were married and they hadn't written nor had they performed.
Nate and Caitlyn had moved to New York since Nate had gotten a part in a Broadway musical, while Danielle and Jason were in the midst of starting a reality show. You and Shane took up traveling right after you finished your platinum selling album. Now it was their time, and you were here supporting all three of them, along with Caitlyn and Danielle. All three of you sat in their dressing room, just laughing and having a good time, till you got a phone call. Checking your Caller ID, you see your mother-in-law's number. You furrow your eyebrows. She usually calls after Shane's concert.
"Hi Denise," you say into the phone.
"Mitchie," she said crying into the phone.
"Denise what happened?" you ask her, worried. She had never called you in tears. Ever.
"It's Pa-Paul. He had a hea-heart attack,"
"What?" you yelled into the phone, tears pooling, threatening to come out.
"He was complaining of-of heart pains, and he fe-fell asleep… when I went to ch-check up on him, he, he wouldn't answer, he was cold, and there was no pulse" She cried harder into the phone, you were crying too.
"Shane an-and I will try to get out. I love you Denise, and stay strong, we-we'll be there as soo-n as pos-possible." It was hard for you to talk into the phone.
You hung up the phone, and saw the worried looks on Caitlyn and Danielle's faces.
"What happened Mitchie" Caitlyn asked.
"Paul just had a heart attack," you say.
"Oh my god," Caitlyn said. Danielle covered her mouth in surprise.
You quickly wiped your face, getting up.
"I need to get Shane, and get the jet ready," you say, running your hand through your hair. Leaving in the middle of a tour was a pain in the ass, but you knew that it had to be done.
"Could one of you, tell Jack, and have him get the jet ready?"
"I'll go," Danielle said.
"Thanks,"
All three of you filed out through the doorway. Caitlyn came with you, while Danielle went to go find their manager.
They had just finished a song and were getting their water. You knew that this was the time to get him off. You made sure that the tears weren't noticeable on your face when you walked onto the stage. The crowd went wild. You just simply waved at them as you walked up to Shane. He had a confused look. You never got on stage without warning them, or without a mic.
"I need to talk to you," you tell him.
"Can't it wait?" he asked.
"No. I don't think so,"
"Let's go," he said, putting a hand on your lower back, towards his dressing room.
"What's wrong?"
One look in his eyes and you began crying. He took you in his arms, and sat down.
"It's, it's Paul," saying that and you feel him tense, "yo-your mom j-just called, and s-said th-that he just had a he-heart attack, a-and that she couldn't feel a pulse."
You look into his eyes, trying to see anything. He just looked lost.
"When," he managed to get out.
"About 5 minutes ago. Jack's getting the j-jet ready. We can leave now if we want,"
He just simply nodded. You placed a kiss on the side of his head, but he doesn't seem affected by it, instead, he is just looking out towards the floor. You could see the tears begin to pool at the bottom of his eyes.
…
This wasn't supposed to happen. Today was going to be a happy day too. You were going to share some news with him. Happy news too. But now it seemed that telling him that there was a Gray on they wasn't something to tell your husband when his father was on the verge of death.
It took you about an hour to quickly get everything ready. You went to the bus, packed everything quickly, while you left Shane looking out into space lying on the sofa. It crushed you, but it was time for you to take the stance. You were going to have to be strong enough for the both of you- even if you just experienced some morning sickness as soon as you walked through that tour bus door.
Currently you were in the jet ready for takeoff. Shane was like a walking zombie, not moving or talking much. You grabbed his hand and intertwined your fingers as the plane started gaining speed across the runway. As soon as it had become air bound for 15 minutes, and the seat-belt sign was off, you brought Shane's head to rest in your lap. He didn't mind, nor did he say anything, because as soon as you brought him down, he turned and started crying into your stomach.
You were hoping that he knew nothing. Ignoring the tears falling down your face, you tried to comfort Shane. It didn't work though. You felt the wetness of his tears touch your stomach. You just put one hand in his hair, moving it in continuous patterns and one under the back of his shirt, trying to rub soothing patterns on his back.
It didn't work either, you knew nothing would. You kept on running fingers through his hair, while pressing kisses to his forehead. After a while his crying ceased and all that you heard were the sniffles. He wrapped both arms around your waist, and it kicked in then. The doctor said that it wouldn't be easy managing morning sickness while flying.
"Shane, I need to get to the bathroom, fast," was all you could manage. Shane immediately got up off of you, his puffy eyes and his hair clumping around his forehead, giving you a worried look, but you didn't get a second more to look at him. Quickly springing towards the bathroom, you slide it open and whatever must have been leftover all came out. Soon Shane was next to you, holding your hair. But you were good. You washed your mouth, while Shane brought you something to drink. It should have been water, but the Dr. Pepper was probably the first thing there. You took a sip, and then put it down. Turning towards him, you wiped the wetness around his face with the pads of your thumbs, and moving the hair out from his face. The gel that he had used to style it had worn out from him tousling around and you running your hand through.
"Are you alright," he asked, his voice hoarse.
This is the time Mitchie, you should tell him now. The little voice told you
"I'm fine. It must be the stress." You lied. Well it was that too, but mostly it was because you were carrying his baby.
"Okay," he said.
You took his hand, and led him back to where you were sitting. You sat down and Shane retook the position he was in before your abrupt departure to the bathroom. He got comfortable in your lap, as you returned back to making those soothing patterns into his hair. He must have like it, because within 15 minutes he was asleep, something that you should try to do, because you knew that as soon as you landed you didn't know what to expect. Denise hadn't said anything more. You rested your head on the headrest, trying your best to get a few hours of sleep, knowing that it was about a 13 hour flight to get to California.
…
When you woke up, you remember that Shane's head was on your lap, but you woke up with your head resting on his shoulder, you straddling him, with his arms wrapped around you.
It took less than 30 seconds for him to realize that you were wake. He quickly switched you over, so that he could look at you. Resting your feet on the extra chair, and your back against the window, you put your head on his shoulder reaching your hand out and resting it on his cheek, slightly rubbing his stubble.
"Have you talked to Denise yet?" you ask.
"No, I wanted to call her when you woke up," Shane said.
You moved slightly to the floor where your handbag was, pulling out your phone. You handed the phone to Shane, who immediately dialed his mother's number into the phone.
You brought your hand away from his cheek, this time; you put it on his bicep.
"Hello," Shane said into the phone.
"Oh, hi Aunt Maggie. How's dad?"
"Oh," you heard his voice crack. That wasn't good. His voice shouldn't be cracking. Nothing was happening to Paul.
He spoke a few more words, before hanging up the phone. Again he looked lost.
"Shane," you whispered, trying to get a good look at him. He turned his head around, and getting a look in his eyes, you knew that it was true.
You immediately began to cry into his shoulder. His arms are around you holding you tightly to his chest, but not letting out a word. You knew that this was okay, because this was how Shane dealt with deaths. When his grandfather died, all Shane did was held you close. He'd end up crying, but only when he was in bed, alone, or with you.
…
By the time that the plane had landed at LAX, both of you were emotionally and physically drained. Still that didn't stop your morning sickness. By the time you were hovering over Nevada, it had hit you again, and Shane had helped you, again.
There was a driver waiting for you, Jack must have sent them, and he drove you straight to the hospital, no questions asked.
After the phone call, Aunt Maggie texted you what floor it was and what wing he was in. It was a separate wing. Shane hadn't said anything; he had a pair of dark sunglasses on, and still had his hand in yours since the both of you got off of the airport.
You walk towards the receptionist, her British Accent in full, asking her where the room and the floor was; she gave you directions, but you realized the look of surprise on her face on why famous singers, who were supposed to be touring in Europe were all of a sudden in California. You both quietly stepped into the elevator, reaching the floor, and having a nurse with Hello Kitty scrubs on leading you towards the wing where you father-in-law was lying. Your parents were there, as was Denise, her family and Paul's family. Denise looked exhausted, and she was still crying. She ran up to the both of you and engulfed both of you in a hug at the same time. She started crying on Shane's shoulder, he wrapped his arms around his mother, placing his chin right on top of her head. You stood behind her, rubbing her back, and stroking her hair.
"The d-doctor said that it was a really str-strong attack. They tried eve-everything, but it.. he, he couldn't make it," she had raised her head, to tell the both of you.
"Can-can we see him." Shane managed to get out.
"He's in the room," she pointed to the room. Silently you both walked down the hallway. The door was closed, once opening it, it was relatively cold. There in the middle of the room, was a body, covered by a sheet.
You stood by the door, crying, whereas Shane inched towards his father and pulled off the sheet. You saw his eyes move to look over his face. You wanted to look, but you knew that it would break you down. Shane just stared, and covered the face back again. He took one look at you and both of you began to walk out. Left outside were just your parents and Denise.
You hug you parents. You really didn't talk to anyone else. Shane just took a seat on the chairs, and held his head in his hands. Soon your parents leave, bringing Denise with them. All of you didn't want her to go back home, or leave her alone. Your parents agreed to bring her home to grab some stuff, and let her stay at their house.
Shane stood up to hug them all, watching them leave, until he fully broke down. You were both against that wall. Both of you crying, his head resting on your chest. You slowly inch down against the wall, until both of you were on the floor. Your legs outstretched so that he could lean into you.
It started to get hard to breathe, and you couldn't endure the pain that you felt, something else, caused by the pregnancy. Soon there was a pain that you couldn't handle. The sensitivity of your breasts was something that you know would happen. The websites online that you went and searched before you were going to tell Shane said that after a while due to the increasing of the milk glands or something they would feel too sore. You try to push Shane off, and bring him to lean on your shoulder, but instead, he leans off of you, sitting straight, rubbing his eyes, hard. Hard enough that you thought that his eyes were going to pop out. You stop his hands and wipe the tears with your perfectly manicured thumbs, resting your palm on his cheek, which he slowly leaned into, seeking comfort.
You get up, and offer your hands for Shane to get up. You were thinking along the lines of driving Denise's car to your apartment and attempt to sleep the night. You both knew that neither one of you would be able to sleep, but you didn't want to stay here.
You grabbed his hand while carrying your handbag on your arm.
It wasn't that hard to find Denise's car. You didn't expect that it was the only one parked in the emergency section, but it made life easier. You both made it towards the car, splitting up in different directions to sit in the seats. Shane got into the passenger seat, and you put your bag into the backseat, turning the engine of the car on. You take his hand, intertwining your fingers, and kissed the back of it, sending a sad smile towards his direction, when all you really want to do is go to bed and cry.
It took you 20 minutes to get into the parking lot. Shane had his sun glasses on again, and so did you. Both of you didn't want to be pictured looking like a zombie or panda. Locking the car after the both of you get out, you put the keys into your bag, and reach for the ones to get into the penthouse.
You took the elevator up to the penthouse, and stepped out, unlocking the door and going inside. Shane took off his shoes, and trudged towards the bedroom. You placed your bag on the counter, alongside the keys, then took off your shoes, and washed your hands in the sink. You and Shane had both not eaten since you were in France, and everything that you ate, you threw up. You knew that there was a box of Macaroni and Cheese. You took a pot out and filled it up with water, not boiling it yet. You then went to check up on Shane. You wanted to make sure he was okay, before making some food. He was in the bed, under the covers, with his knees up towards his chest, crying, bawling. You never saw him this broken ever in the last eight years you knew him, you had never seen him cry this hard. But it was expected, his father was dead.
You took a seat at the side of the bed, so that you could comfort him in anyway. You return back to running your hand through your hair. He turns around and pulls at your arm, moving over so that there is space for you to lie down next to him. He holds you close, crying into your neck. You started crying too. You felt the wetness from his eyes on your neck, some rolling over and onto the pillow, while feeling a wet spot against your shirt.
Shane lifts his head, and roughly started nipping and pulling at your lips, while bringing his hands toward the hem of your shirt. He lifted your shirt off of you connecting your lips again, while bringing his hand to your back to unclasp you bra. You reached for the buttons on his shirt, taking it off once every button was done. He took it off, and then went to the button of your jeans. Once your jeans were off, he started kissing down towards your breasts. He was letting all of his feelings out, and you were letting him.
…
It had been an hour. You were just in the bed, laying there with Shane, not saying anything. His arms were around you and both of you were in your own thoughts. You were thinking about telling Shane.
Unexpectedly, you got out of Shane's arms, and opened a drawer to pull out a pair of his boxers and a shirt for you to wear. He looked at you in confusion as you slipped them on.
"We need to eat, then I have to tell you something," you tell him, going over to kiss his forehead.
You rummaged around the cabinets, hoping Jack had restocked the kitchen. Finally spotting the blue box, you turn the stove on to boil the water, getting out the milk, and butter that you needed to in the directions. Within 15 minutes you had two heaping bowls of macaroni, ready. You took a carton of orange juice, forks and walked into the room.
"Let's go Shane, you need to eat," You say, as you take the bowl and put it out in front of Shane to take. He was in the same position you had left him in.
"Shane, honey, you need to eat. We have to go back in a few hours and you haven't slept since you've been on the plane and haven't eaten since before we left. You need to eat,"
"What did you have to tell me?" he asked.
"If I tell you do you promise to eat?" you ask him.
He nodded his head, before pulling the covers off to make room for you to get in. You put the tray on the side table, before getting in. He immediately wraps an arm around your waist, making sure that you don't fall off.
"I know that right now's not the ideal time to tell you something like this, but soon it's going to be too late," you tell him, he gives you a worried look. "Shane, I'm pregnant,"
He looks at you with a smile. It wasn't a big smile, but it was the biggest smile he smiled today.
"Really?"
"I'm at five weeks. I was going to tell you after the concert, but everything happened, and I felt guilty not telling you, in case some paparazzi found out before you did,"
"There's a baby, in here?" he said pointing towards your stomach.
"Yea,"
"And you haven't eaten in about 20 hours." He asked.
You slowly nod.
"Mitchie," he sighed, "you're going to have to take care of yourself before anyone else, and that means you have to eat on time," he reached over and grabbed a bowl. "I already lost my father Mitchie, I don't want to lose something as important as this. You have to promise me that you will make sure that you eat on time. Once we finish all of this, I'm going to be there 110 percent, but for the next few days, please, don't skip a meal, even if I do,"
"But you haven't eaten either," you say as you take the bowl that he had in his hand.
"Mitchie, you have to stop worrying about me for a while, you're going to have to put you and the baby first."
You take a bite of your food. Then look at Shane to see that he took a bite too.
"Mitch," he says after a few bites. "Is it hard to grow up without a grandfather?" he asks you, knowing that your grandfather died a year before you were born.
"Sometimes I found it hard. Like when Father's Day came and I always asked my dad why his dad never showed up for Father's Day, or why there's a picture of a person I didn't know standing next to my father, and why Grandma Torres didn't have a Grandpa Torres like how Grandma Montez had a Grandpa Montez. But there were times where my dad would always tell me about the trips that he had with his father, and the day that we got married, he told me that he wanted our child to have both sets of grandparents," you say, tears coming towards your eyes, knowing that the baby was going to grow up without a grandfather.
"I always expected my dad to be here. I wanted him to be here when we had kids. I wanted to bring him with us if we went fishing, and watched those football games on Thanksgiving, and how to become a good dad, but I can't ask him anything."
…
Shane had called up a bunch of funeral directors while you two were at your parent's house. Denise was still a mess, and you took care of her. Nate, Caitlyn, Danielle and Jason, had made sure that the European Leg was canceled, before flying over the next day. There was going to be no wake, but a funeral. Shane had told everyone that you were pregnant and then told them how you went without 20 hours of food yesterday, so everyone made sure you ate till you threw up, and when you threw up, you made it to the bathroom.
The funeral itself was held in the church where you used to attend regularly. Only family and close friends were told and invited, whilst phones and doorbells wouldn't stop ringing from the amount of flowers to the condolences in either phone calls or texts.
At the funeral you had performed a song while Shane had organized a speech;
I want to thank everyone for coming here today to say our final good byes to Paul Shane Grey. My dad was always a happy, laughing and joking man, never taking anything seriously unless he had too. When Jason, Nate and I decided on forming a band together, I remember that dad dropped everything to become our manager.
Dad was never the musician, but he was always fond of 80's music. The long trips that we had to the beach, or to someone's house Billy Joel or someone like that playing, and I remember hating it, but now I realize that it was actually pretty great music.
Dad would also take me out fishing a lot, whether it was just the two of us for bonding times, or the whole family, we would always be doing something together. He was more than just my father; he was also my best friend. He could hold any secret you wanted him too, but he also gave the best advice. When I asked him how to propose, I remember he told me whenever the time felt right, that she wouldn't mind as long as I promised to love her.
A lot of people also don't know this yet, but dad was also going to become a grandfather. I always wanted to tell dad this, so dad if you're listening, Mitchie's Pregnant!
Anyway, I just wanted to say, you will not be forgotten and I love you.
By the time he had finished the speech, you and his mom were crying onto each other's shoulders. He came back to sit next to you, sniffling.
The funeral services were complete after Paul had been buried.
Paul Shane Grey Sr.
February 13, 1965- October 27, 2012
Loving Husband, Father, Father-In-Law and Soon-to-Be Grandfather
…
On June 10, you were rushed into the hospital in labor. After eighteen hours of labor, Paul Shane Grey III was born on June 11th, weighing 7 pounds exact. Shane was happy with the name you suggested, and so was Denise.
Denise was coping. She still stayed in the house, but found other ways to occupy her time as a widow. She began teaching piano and singing to kids, and was always there when you needed motherly advice on how to take care of a baby. Even though Paul grew up with only Grandpa Torres, Grandpa Grey was never forgotten. Your dad and Shane made sure that Paul knew of his grandfather and what an important person he was in everyone's life