There is ancient Chinese myth about the red thread of life. It says the Gods tied a red thread around every one of our ankles and attached it to all of the people whose paths were destined to cross. This thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break.

There are 31,530,000 seconds in year. 1,000 milliseconds in a second. A million micro seconds. A billion nanoseconds. And the one constant, connecting nanoseconds to years, is change.

The universe, from atom to galaxy, is in a perpetual state of flux. But we humans don't like change. We fight it. It scares us. So we create the illusion of stasis. We want to believe in a world of rest, the world of right now. The great paradox remains the same; the moment we grasp the 'now', that 'now' is gone.

Most people wore all black to a funeral, but I wore a blue shirt. Nobody looked at me weird which I was actually quite surprised by. Maybe I got slack because it was the funeral of my wife, but that shouldn't matter one bit. At a funeral, you wear black. No if ands or buts about it. I was inflamed by the fact that no one came up to me and asked; Why aren't you wearing black? Of course, I'd respond with; I am. Do you not see?

The only ones that were excluded from the group of people I despised were my children. They knew the significance of the blue shirt as I told them the story many times when they were small. Only a quarter of the story, of course. I wouldn't tell them that I wore it the first day of our honeymoon and she tore it off my torso, or in a bridal shop that we danced in long before we were 'allowed' to want each other.

What I did tell them was how I wore it the day they were born and my first day on Broadway (though it was a wardrobe prop, it was the same color and style.) They could tell me those stories better than I could at this point.

I sat among the crowd, trying to hide myself. I couldn't. I was Emma's husband, of course I couldn't. Everybody that talked to me asked the same questions. "Are you okay? How are you getting along? You're going to speak, aren't you? Are you nervous?" They always added some form of condolences after they drowned me with questions.

Yes, I was getting along fine. No, I wasn't lonely or depressed, not enough to hurt myself. I had family; my kids and my parents, cousins and nieces, even my granddaughter. Yes, I would speak today, I was only nervous of breaking down. But everyone here today would understand.

Turning around, I found Rachel and Finn standing near Quinn, Puck, Mercedes and Sam. Finn was holding his children's hands, Quinn was holding a blonde toddler in her arms, Sam was talking to Mercedes' stomach.

"Will, I am so sorry to hear about this." Rachel was first to talk. After they were out of high school they occasionally came to Emma and I about life problems, and I asked them to stop calling me 'Mr. Schue'. I wasn't their teacher anymore, I was their friend.

"She started sobbing at the kitchen table when she got the letter." Finn backed up Rachel's story and rubbed her back soothingly. I could tell by the look in her eyes she was close to crying again. Sensing the awkward tension in the air, Puck catapulted himself into my arms, giving me a strong bear hug, just like when I told them, all those years ago, that I wouldn't be going to Broadway, I would be staying with them.

And just like all those years ago, Sam followed, then Finn and Quinn and Rachel joined. Their children placed their tiny hands on my legs, just like my kids would do when they wanted me to pick them up. All I could choke out was a rough form of affection, but one that hinting this action wasn't required.

"We're all really, super sorry, Mr. S-Will." We all laughed, Sam was slow calling me by my first name.

"If I can," Rachel pipped up, "What's the worst part?"

I answered immediately, not missing a beat. "Waking up and not having her next to me."

"How did it happen?" Sam quipped. I could tell all of them were afraid of losing their husband or wife, and they all had curiosities.

"I woke up," Suddenly it was hard to swallow. "in the middle of the night and I didn't feel her breathing normally under my arm. I placed a kiss to her cheek and noticed she wasn't breathing." A few tears slipped from my eyes. "She was limp. The paramedics said she died in her sleep. It was natural, but so soon because of all the chemicals that seeped into her skin and her veins from her OCD habits."

"I'm so sorry, Will." Quinn finally spoke up. She knew about losses. The loss of her popularity, her boyfriend, her baby, her reputation and even herself for months. "I didn't realize that could happen." Quinn and Emma had a relationship I never imagined them having. After our loss, Quinn really helped Emma through each day.

"I know. I know you're all really sorry. I don't wish this on any of you."

"Having family helps, right Uncle Will?" I laughed when I heard Emily's question. She was so sweet and tiny. With hair like Finn and a singing voice like Rachel, she really was a piece of work.

"Yes, having family really does help Emily." I picked her up and made a tiny growling sound before pulling on my hip.

"Are you gonna talk about Auntie today, Unc'?"

"Yes! Thank you for reminding me, Em." Emily blushed, she loved it when I called her the same thing I called Emma. She thought it was the equivalent of telling her she meant as much. "I actually have to go get ready for that." I set Emily down next to her sister and hugged each of my former students before heading to the back of the chapel.

I sat in the rough chair they provided for family and friends, and tried to collect my thoughts. I held my head in my hands and let a few loose tears fall to the floor. It felt weird not having her here to hold my hand and calm my anxiety.

"Dad? They're ready for you." Inhaling a deep breath, I smoothed my pants and wiped my eyes before nodding to my son.

I was as ready as I'd ever be.