I've never thought I would see the day where I would cry over him. Drunk, surly, rude. But also a friend, mentor, trainer. Haymitch Abernathy. Gone. I couldn't think of it. Haymitch's rough, coarse voice forever silenced. His eyes would never give me that smart ass look when he was drunk. I even thought back to the time I drank with him. I'll never have that again, even if I were so inclined to pick up a bottle of the noxious liquid again.
Today is the funeral. We are in the rebuilt District 12. The meadow beyond where the sometimes-electrified fence used to be is where we stand. It has grown over again, although no one has tried tending to it. I breathe in the fresh scent of the nature around me. This will be a good resting place for my old friend.
A grave has been dug and the casket has been lowered into its final resting place. A small group of people surround the 6 foot deep hole. Gale, Hazel and the kids, Effie, my mother, Ripper, some others from the Hob, Beetee, Johanna, Annie, Peeta and I. I reach for Peeta's hand, seeking support, as Gale walks the edge of the grave, holding a handful of dirt.
"Haymitch was an interesting piece of work. I rarely saw him sober, but he was a good man. He saved many lives. No one can ever compare. Rest peacefully." Gale throws his handful in and walks away.
Effie, whose hair is actually a pretty dark brown, steps forward and speaks more touching words that bring tears to my eyes before throwing her handful of dirt in.
More people step forward and speak about the man we all loved and despised at the same time. Finally, Peeta lets go of my hand and steps forward with his dirt.
"Haymitch was many things." Peeta began. "He was smart. He was a victor. He was a drunk. He was a mentor. He had no wife and no children. He had few friends. We loved him, though. In the first Games, he helped me find the courage to admit my love in front of an entire nation, even though I was sure I was going to die. He kept Katniss alive, which in turn, kept me alive. In the second Games, he kept us both alive, in and out of the arena. He gave me life. He gave me the ability to live on and share his legacy. He will never be forgotten" He throws his dirt in, tears streaming down his face. I'm crying, too. Badly. I step forward, grab a handful of dirt and look down in the deep hole.
"Victor, mentor, friend, drunk, family. These are some words I could use to describe him. Survivor seems to work best though. He survived against all odds in the arena. After the arena and during the rebellion that he helped me start. He gave me the will to live. He was my family. I'll never forget him. Goodbye, friend" I throw my dirt in and walk to Peeta. I take his hand in mine and silently thank Haymitch for saving us both. So we could live happily as we have for the past 10 years. Haymitch gave us everything. I remember to make sure to live the life he gave me to the fullest. For him.