Authors Note: I'm back! Did ya miss me? Probably not.

So I posted this about a week ago, and lovely commenter (no that was not sarcastic, I am actually very thankfull they pointed tihis out.) informed me about the website's policies on song lyrics, and because I used lyrics from the song I needed to take them out.

Now, some of you may have never heard the song before. This could be a problem. I would recommend listening to the song to understand the premises of the story. Note: I can also send you the original story with the song lyrics. Just PM me and I can help you with that.

I own nothing.

Italics=Flashback


I was speechless. There were no words to describe loss I was feeling. The amount of emptiness I felt, an indescribable silence no one can understand unless you live through it.

Only a small group can sympathize. A small group of people who were forced to live through the unimaginable.


Widows and Widowers have lost the love of their life. An orphan has lost their parents.

But what do you call someone who has lost their child, their pride, and joy? What do you call it when a son has fallen, or a daughter's crown is broken? Is there even a name? What is to be said when the unimaginable has happened?


Rachel had Emma clutched to her like a lifeline, Ross' hand on her back. They didn't understand. They don't have to outlive their own child.

They try to sympathize, but they aren't living it.

All they had to do was push away the thought. Push away the unimaginable.

Why couldn't this have happened to them? Why did it have to be us?


I step into his empty bedroom. My hand placed on the door frame where he insisted that we keep track of how tall he was. I scan the room where my son once slept, tears clouding my vision. For a split second, I can see him sitting on the carpeted floor looking intently at his Legos, but he disappears.

I collapse into the room, sobs racketing my body. How could I let this happen? I wasn't protecting my own son when he needed me most. It cost him his life. How could I let this happen?

I hear footsteps approaching. I can't let Monica see me like this.

Erika.

"Dad, it's time to go."


I walk in the rain to the store. I have a car, but the rain is more peaceful. It silences the endless thoughts that swirl in my brain. The screams that are yet to be silenced.

Its quiet uptown compared to the busy life of New York City. I used to hate the quiet.

I've started taking Erika to church. I pray intently that somehow I will wake up and this will all be a cruel dream. A nightmare that is so terrible, I will never speak of it to anybody. But then I arrive at home and my wife is on the couch sobbing and I snap back into the cruel, unbearable truth.


I step through the front door of our new home, the clock reading 9:15. Home after dark again.

I take my coat to hang it up.

"You're late." The voice startles me and I drop my coat, clutching my chest. I turn towards the voice to see my wife standing with her arms crossed in the living room. "Sorry," she replies softly, looking down at her sock covered feet.

"Don't say, I should be the one apologizing, not you," I reply quickly, realizing that I have over exaggerated. I awkwardly walk forward to her position in front of the couch, but she backs away.

"God, I'm sorry for a lot of things," I say as I flop onto the couch. I rub my hand over my mouth and my jaw trying to compose myself. I put my hands in between my legs and let out a sigh. She looks down at me, her face drained of emotion.

"If it had been me, it wouldn't be so hard for you. You've experienced life without me, you're a strong woman. If he was here instead of me, you would be smiling." A sob escapes me, as much as I hate it these words are true. A mother's world revolves around her children, like the Earth and the Sun.

I look up at Monica, tears now stream down her face, but her face still holds no emotion.


"You need time, I get that." It's almost as if we're trapped in dark dimension. Where light is burned by the heaviness of the dark. "I know who I married, Monica. I know we can get past the hard part. That doesn't mean it will ever stop hurting, but I know you. I know us." I'm standing now, my hands rubbing her shoulders and arms.

"But you have to let me help you, you have to let me in."


Her arm is laced through mine. Her tear stained face provoke stares from neighbors.

It's still quiet.

I wonder if she likes it uptown.


We sit on a park bench, the cool air of fall creating a rosy tint on her cheeks. From where we sit, New York city looks small, but I know that past the outer layers of the city, inside lays the heart. A place where people thrive, where people enjoy the little things in life.

Recently I have lost enjoyment in the little things.

I don't find enjoyment in the commute to work, it only reminds me of my fallen son. There is no enjoyment at lying in bed at night, for I ponder the moments I shared with my son.

Jack.

My fallen pride. Her fallen joy.

How could I let this happen to my family?


I swore to myself something like this would never happen.

When they were born, I couldn't even comprehend the thought of losing one of them. It was too terrible to name.

When they were born, I swore that I would bleed for them, lay down my life if it came to it. I swore I wouldn't break that promise.

She stood by as told them this. As I kissed their small foreheads and promised that I would rather die than live without them.

Is she upset I have broken my promise not only to them but to her?

"Dad, I will be fine!" Jack exclaimed exasperatedly reaching for the car keys. My hand stopped him. "Dad, please. I'm going to be late!"

I cocked my head at him. "What is so important at this party of yours that you need to take my car? You have your own car."

"Dad, my car looks like a trash can! And all my friends will be there!"

I smirk at him. "Your friends know what your car looks like. There's a girl." I say slyly, grinning devilishly.

Jack rolled his eyes. "No, there is no girl."

"Oh, there's a girl!" I pick up the keys and hold them up for him to take "Do not rec my car, Jack." I warn him.

"I will be fine, Dad." He sighs taking my keys. "I'll see you later."

"Love you, buddy!"

He rolls his eyes playfully, practically skipping out the door. "You too!"

There are tears falling from my eyes.

He was so anxious to get to that party. So elated that he found a girl. I was blinded with pride that I failed to realize he was in a reckless state.


Monica takes my hand in hers. The feeling is so foreign.

And says:

"It's quiet uptown," barely loud enough for me to hear.

In that moment I break down. I pull her hand close to lips and keep it there for a long moment. Tears now streaming like a river.


We both stand and wrap our arms around each other. I hear her sobs racketing near my ear. All the pent up feelings from the past months releasing in that moment.

I feel her fingers dig into my shoulders as my arms squeeze tightly at her waist.

"I am so sorry, Mon," I breathe out, cupping her cheeks and kissing her for the first time in ages. "I'm so sorry."

She smiles sadly, her hands coming to my cheeks as well. "I love you." She proclaims, "I love you so much."

Our foreheads rest against each other. The warmth of her presence fills me, god how I have missed her.

I pull away from her and gaze into her eyes, and for once I can see hope.

This is our life now. We will always have the heavy burden of loss weighing down on us. It has been a strain on our relationship, but it has brought us closer.

We still have each other.

Backing away completely, I offer her my hand. Smiling, she accepts.