BELLA'S POV, A WEEK LATER

I was sitting at the computer, not actually using it, but tapping the keys rhythmically as I stared out of the window, thinking about Charlie; it was his funeral today. Today also marked fifty-two years since my parents' wedding day.

I still hadn't quite got my head above the ocean of grief, but I was healing. Slowly but surely.

I was thinking about Charlie and Renee. Renee, who hadn't seen me in so long. Charlie, who would right now be in a coffin, in church, lifeless, still...

It was too much for me to bear, to create the mental image, so I focused on the two of them as I remembered them, before I'd changed: all of the cloudy but beautiful human memories...

A sudden thought hit me. I booted up the computer, and scouted about on the Internet until I found what I was looking for. I printed it out, then flitted over to the piano, where Edward had just sat down.

In a hesitant voice, I handed him the sheets of paper. 'Edward... would you play this for me?'

He gave me a long, searching look.

'Of course, Bella.'

I walked across to the window and sat down, watching the trees stir lightly in the gentle breeze, wondering where Charlie was now, what had happened in his final moments.

The music started. Debussy's Clare De Lune. Warm, lazy days in Phoenix, with Renee...

I was caught up in every single memory of my parents, everything.

Most of it was murky, of course, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that I remembered my parents, everything about them, everything we'd been through together. The time Mom and I both scraped our knees and bandaged each other's legs up. The time Charlie had tried to teach me how to ride a bike. The beauty of Mom's face, her expression, almost juvenile in its simplicity, but piercing in its perceptiveness. The way Dad had cried a week ago, when we'd told him he was going to die...

For five minutes, all of this, and so much more, filled up every sense I had; all I could hear near the end of it was their voices, all I could see was their faces.

And then the music stopped.

It was only then I realised I'd been crying; I was brought back to awareness mid-sob. I was filled with sadness and grief, but a measure of peace that had nothing to do with Jasper was spreading from the tips of my toes, right up to my face, where it manifested itself as a huge smile. I'd pulled myself above the ocean of grief; I'd found a ship to sail over it with. This. Every year, I would listen to the beautiful music my mother and I had loved, and I would remember them. Not to keep the memories from fading, although that was good too, but as a way to acknowledge my love for them; a tribute to their beautiful selves, their wonderful lives.

I kissed Edward, and the ship cranked up to full speed and started sailing towards the horizon of our forever.

THE END