OH GOSH, I HAVE NOT UPDATED IN LITERALLY FOREVER. I've missed writing, to be honest; I've just been soooo busy. Sorry guys! I'll try to get back into it now. (:

Anyways, thank you all so much for the reviews, and I hope you'll continue reading even though I neglected to update for like, 3 weeks. This is Chapter 7, finally. It's sad again, but it is a funeral. There will be happier chapters in here, I promise. But for now, enjoy! & I'd love some feedback. Thanks! :D


Chapter Seven - Final Goodbye

Upon walking inside the church, I immediately saw that Madison's casket was lying open towards the back of the church, for anyone who didn't make it to the viewal last night. Mal and I robotically walked up to it, and I immediately noticed how peaceful she looked. She could almost be mistaken for being asleep, if it weren't for the pale skin-color. We had chosen to clothe her body in her favorite dress; it was light blue with white daisies stitched on the bottom. Her hair had been cleaned and smoothed out, resting behind her head in straight locks. The blood that had been on her arm a few days before was cleaned, and the gash from the bullet grazing her was hidden with make-up. Yet another stubborn lump formed in my throat, threatening to spill emotion over. I glanced over at Mal to see his bottom lip trembling slightly, and I had to look away. I stepped closer to him, sliding my left arm around his lower back. I felt his arm snake over my shoulder, pulling me closer to him. We said nothing, both fighting for our composure. This was our final chance to say 'goodbye'. I wasn't planning on saying anything out loud, but when Mal began talking, I realized I wanted to. Needed to, almost.

"Madison, I... I'm sorry for not being a better dad to you. I know I shouldn't blame myself, but... part of me does. I could list reasons as to why, but I know I can't do that. To myself or your mother. Neither of us can take that." His grip on my shoulder tightened as he continued. "I'm going to miss you so much, and I'm going to miss all the things I'll never get to do with you. It kills me to think of those things, but I'm trying not to focus on it. I know you're watching out for us up there, wherever you are... and I know you're with your grandmother now. Keep an eye on her, too, okay? I... I'm sorry, and I love you." He bent down and gently kissed Madison's cool forehead, allowing a few tears to escape from his eyes. "Goodbye, Madi," he whispered, almost inaudibly. We stood in silence for a few more seconds, before I began.

"Madi... I could stand here and go on and on about you for hours, but I'm going to condense this for you. Having you was one of the greatest joys of my life; and being your mother for six years... was amazing." I paused, nearly choking on emotion. "You gave me... us... the best six years of our lives. The fact that you're gone hurts more than you'll ever know, but I know you're waiting for us up there. I'm... I'm sorry for anything I did wrong to you, and I just want you to know, that I love you so much. And I'll miss you every day." I squeezed tears out of my eyes before bending down and kissing her forehead as well. "Goodbye, Madison," I murmured, brushing a few stupid tears from my face.

Mal and I stood in silence again, neither wanting to speak. Finally, I broke the soundless-ness.

"Let's just get through today... and we'll figure the rest out as we go," I said gently, looking up at Mal. He nodded and gave me a reassuring hug before we parted to check on the funeral arrangements.


An hour later, Mal and I sat side-by-side in one of the pews of the church. A pastor stood at the pulpit talking about Madison. From the perspective of someone who didn't know her well, they wouldn't think twice about his speech. But from my stand point, of someone who really knew her, it was evident, through the words he spoke, that he didn't know Madison. He didn't of course, since we weren't really the church-going type of family.

As he went on, it became increasingly more noticeable that he used general phrases that could be talking about anyone. Nothing was really specific to our daughter. I know it wasn't his fault, but it still bothered me. Halfway through the service, he started quoting verses from the Bible.

"Psalm 34:18 says that 'The Lord is near to the brokenhearted, and saves the crushed in spirit.' The Lord doesn't promise an easy life, but he does promise to be near to us when we are broken. He can take the wounded spirits here today, and aide you in your healing process. Romans 8:35-39 says, 'Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? As it is written, For your sake we are being killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered. No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.' As this verse concludes, nothing, not even the death of a child, can separate us from God's love..."

He went on for another five minutes, but I didn't pay much attention. I'm not really sure what I believe about God; but if he's real, he sure doesn't feel like it. Mal grew up going to church, but I didn't. My family was never one to 'get religious', except the occasional Christmas and Easter services. It's not that I'm opposed to the concept of God or anything, because I'm not at all; it's just that I'm not sure what I believe yet. Maybe I'll figure it out someday, and maybe I won't. I guess we'll have to see how it all pans out.

"... And as we conclude our memorial service for Madison Angela Fallon, I would like to lead us in a word of prayer."

I respectfully bowed my head, staring blankly down at my lap. Though I wasn't a 'religious' person, I did try to show some respect for those who were. I glanced over to see Mal doing the same thing, though his eyes were closed. I've tried that before, but it only feels awkward. It feels like I'm talking to someone who isn't there; which, for all I know, could be true.

"... In Your holy name we pray, Amen," the pastor finally concluded.

"Amen," the congregation repeated. I raised my head again, taking a few breaths in and out to steady my breathing. I glanced over at Mal again, and he was visibly doing the same thing. Slowly, everyone began standing up and heading to the front doors of the church, where Madison's coffin would be brought to the cemetery for her committal service. As the cemetery was only a few blocks away, Mal and I decided to walk. I pulled my jacket closed and suppressed a shiver as a cool wind blew across us. Mal shivered, too, snaking his arm around my waist. We walked silently for the next five minutes, neither wanting to speak. Even if I did want to speak, I couldn't trust my voice at that point.

When we arrived at the cemetery, multiple groups of people were already standing around the vicinity, speaking quietly and casting sideways glances towards the now-closed casket. A beautiful floral arrangement perched on top of the lid, flowers ruffling quietly in the gentle breeze. The same pastor from the church walked up to the lowering device, where a mix of both Mal and I's younger relatives silently placed the small casket. As they lowered it onto the rollers of the device, the pastor began speaking again. By this point, I really wasn't listening at all. I was too consumed by pain and grief, and I didn't know how much longer I could hold my emotion in. Once he had finished and closed in a prayer, he invited the family to take a flower from the arrangement. I reached in and took a small white daisy, Madison's favorite flower. Mal stepped forward and placed his, also a white daisy, on top of Madison's casket; but I couldn't bring myself to do likewise. I kept mine, clutching it in my cold hand. I felt myself choke on a sob, and Mal immediately wrapped his arms around me, pulling me towards him. I turned into him, quietly allowing myself to cry again. As I pulled away, Neha walked up to me, gently taking my hands. I forced myself to meet her misty gaze, ignoring the tears streaming down my face, yet again.

"I love you," she said quietly, reaching over and pulling me into another hug. I tried to say 'I love you' back, but my voice wouldn't cooperate. All that came out was a broken sob. By now, Amy stood behind Neha, looking somewhere off into the distance. Neha pulled away, flashed me a forced smile, then stepped aside so I could talk to Amy. Amy reached in and hugged me, too, holding me close for several seconds. I wiped my eyes as I pulled away, smearing mascara onto the back of my hand.

"Stay strong, Nat," was all she said, taking my hand and giving it a quick squeeze. "And don't hesitate to call me up." I smiled gratefully, then she turned towards Mal, saying something to him, too. Others from the SFPD came up to me again; and although I was exhausted, I appreciated them all more than they'll ever know. I again wiped my eyes, temporarily clearing my vision. I saw my parents approaching me, though, and immediately lost it again. I flew into my mother's arms first, hopelessly trying not to completely break down.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry," my mother mumbled, stroking my hair with one hand. "I love you so much."

Again, I found myself unable to speak, so I just squeezed her tighter, blinking tears from my eyes. Pulling away, I hesitated a moment before stepping towards my father. He looked right into my eyes, his gaze unnaturally soft for his usual character.

"I love you, Natara," he said simply, pulling me gently towards him. I accepted the hug, lingering in his arms longer than I would have thought I would.

"I love you, too," I finally said, looking at both of them.

"Let us know if you need anything," my mother added.

"I will," I promised, turning to go back towards Mal. Neha stood off to the side, staring blankly in the general direction of the burial site. I glanced around for Amy, but I didn't see her. Surveying the area again, I noticed her across the graveyard, knelt down beside a large gravestone. I didn't even have to see the writing to know whose headstone that was.

Kenneth Greene.