Socialization. From the time of birth a child is taught the proper way to act, the norms of the culture, what is right and wrong in the eyes of everyone else. I like to call it cultural brainwashing. Everything is dictated to us. What to think. How to act. As I look at the crowd of people dressed in black I wonder if they even had to think about it, or if it was just second nature. Funerals and black go hand-in-hand in America.

People like to think that they are individuals who are capable of making their own decisions. I've got news for you buddy. Everything about you, your values and ethics, are a carbon copy of your parents, grandparents, whoever the hell helped you through life. That is why it hurts so much. Everything I do reminds me of who I learned it from and on a day like today? I hate it. I hate that I mindlessly dressed in black without giving it a second though. I hate that everyone keeps looking at me the same expression. Pity.

If one more person asks me-

"Elena! There you are. I have been searching high and low for you. Oh my!" my great Aunt Beth puts a hand to her chest, her eyes well up with tears, and she gives me that smile. Oh God…here is comes. "You look just like your mother. God rest her soul."

I force a tight smile on my face.

"How are you doing?" Her head is tilted slightly to the right, a mask of sympathy firmly in place. From the outside looking in she appears genuine. However, I know for a fact this woman despised my mother simply because she was better than her low-life daughter, Cindy. Heaven forbid, Aunt Beth isn't better than everyone else.

"Fine."

"Oh you poor dear!" Foreseeing her intentions, I put a hand in front me in and take a step back.

"Look, we really don't have to do this. I haven't seen you for what? Ten years? So let's not pretend that there is some deep family bond between us."

"I beg your pardon!" She looks appalled. Honestly, I don't know why. My tone was calm and rational. No need for her to get her granny panties in a bunch.

"Now, Aunt Beth. No need to get offended." My tone oozes false sympathy for this poor woman and I place a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Between us girls, I would stop frowning. It causes wrinkles and from the looks of it you can't afford more." Her utter shock causes me to smirk.

"Elena!" The guy with the mortified expression, is my Uncle Ric.

Oh boy….This is the part where I have to do the necessary, yet exasperating, task of explaining my family history. Calm down. It isn't that exciting. My mother, Miranda, was the most beautiful woman in the world. I know, I know every kid says that about their mother but this is the honest truth. When she was seventeen she met my father, Grayson. They feel madly, deeply, and passionately in love. It was one of those epic love stories. Really. It could warm the heart of a vampire. Back to the point. I'm assuming you are quite intelligent and can piece together the rest of the story based on key words. Disapproving Parents. Military. Justice of the Piece. Deployed. Preggers. Death.

From that point on, my mother's brother, Ric was our solid rock. He supported my mother as she grieved the loss o my father, helped raise me, and was/is a vital piece of the Gilbert family puzzle

At this point, that is all you need to know.

"Aunt Beth! What a delight to see you!" Liar. "It has been far too long." Liar.

"Why don't you come sit down and we can catch up." Ric casts me a disapproving glare before disappearing into the crowd with my simpering Aunt behind him.

Sigh. I'll be hearing about that later.

The sound of a door shutting brings me back from my thoughts. I find myself in my mother's room, her smell invading my senses. Lilacs and honey. Grabbing her favorite throw from the end of her bed I snuggle into the chair placed before the bay windows. She always did have the best view of the mountains.

Grief and its five fucking stages are deceptive. One moment you can be flying high on the happy cloud of denial and the next crashing down to the earth of reality. You can go from living to barely surviving. Either way, there is a constant pain that never dulls. Your brain simply learns to ignore it, like how your brain ignores an odor after ten seconds of smelling it. Except this is a longer process, like Pavlov conditioning a dog long.

I don't know where I went, my thoughts had run away from me again. All I know is I felt him before I saw him. I prayed to God that I was going crazy, but as I turned to glance at the bedroom door I knew my prayers weren't answered. Shit.

"Elena?" His velvet voice instantly reviving the butterflies in my stomach that had been dead for 2 years.

Fasten your seatbelts, folks. We are in for a bumpy ride.