A/N: Hey, everyone! Finally, the moment you've been waiting for! I'm finally finished. It's a little epilogue and I was planning to write more but I think I ended it where it needed to be ended. I really hope you're all not disappointed. Anyway, I'm boring you. Thanks to: melancholyblood, ChristinaAngel, princetongirl, Lanter, and wprincessannw for the amazing reviews! You guys are awesome!

Summary: Derek's estranged mother, is diagnosed with a rare, terminal disease and the doctors are giving her two weeks to live. With this Derek must deal with old emotions surfacing as well as old memories he'd like to forget. But, you know what they say, with all pain, there comes love. Dasey!

Disclaimer: I do not own Life With Derek

Life With Derek: Depths of Our Beings

Epilogue:

At the End of the Day

Ralph Waldo Emerson once wrote, "Sometimes a scream is better than a thesis." The thing he didn't note was that often a thesis is a whole lot easier. I don't think anyone can truly admit to being completely overwhelmed—well that is until they reach a breaking point. We are all guilty of over thinking, over compensating, and even over working. Sometimes we are all blinded by ambition and anger. However, what we don't realize is that when one is blindly charging into a goal he or she tends to miss the journey, and when that same person looks back on his or her life he finally realizes what mattered when it's too late. But, at the same time we all keep it in. No one wants to let others know that their hurting—that for once they may not be okay. We all assume good things are on the horizon—but what if they're not? What if pain and misery is in life's plan for the rest of your life? The thing is that we don't know. We'll never know until we live. So, I ask why do we spend our lives driving ourselves and pressuring each other when ultimately we all end up the same way—six feet under.

There's something very disturbing about funerals. Perhaps it's the way everyone dresses in black and sits solemnly in one place. People seem to breathe slower and talk quieter as if the dead person can actually hear them. Or perhaps it's the way that people act upset even if they didn't even know who the person was. The way they offer their condolences—like if they say that they're sorry it suddenly makes the pain in the pit of your stomach and the ache in your heart go away.

Or perhaps it's the way that the pastor talks about the person—so insanely vague that one could barely tell if the person was a serial killer or Mother Theresa. But, I really just think it's the way that people sob and choke as if they were staring themselves in the face in that god-forsaken coffin.

Funerals are sick. Period. I mean when you die do you really want people standing over your dead body sobbing and praying like they actually believe in god? No. Do you want some pastor telling your friends in such a vague and fancy way that they barely understand your eulogy? No. Do you want people to send you 500 flower arrangements? As if those tiny smelly, bee attractors could make anything better. No. No. No. You're dead—you don't want anything but to be remembered and thought of at time to time. And you don't want those memories to bring tears—you want to bring smiles.

"Are you okay?"

The voice shook me out of my trance as I reached for the hand that laid itself upon my shoulder, "Yeah, of course."

She laced our fingers together as we walked away from the casket to which I was intently staring, "Are you sure you want to do this? You know you don't have to—right?"

I nodded solemnly, "I know, Case, I know."

She let go of my hand and watched quietly as I walked to the podium lay vacant only minutes before by a no name pastor.

"I'd be lying if I said that my life will be the same after I leave here today—because it won't. My dad was the single most important person in my life," I broke off, "Well maybe that position is tied," the 100 pairs of eyes squinted at me sad smiles now on their tear-stained faces.

"Anyway, my dad was everything to me. He got me through some really tough times. And if this were anyone else I would not be standing here doing this. Truthfully, this is the first funeral I've been to since my mother's years ago. But this is what my father would have wanted—someone that really knew who he was to speak on his behalf. My dad was a kind, funny person. He was always making light of every situation. However, when you really needed him to be serious he was always there. And he never disappointed. I may not be the religious type of person but if there is a heaven I'm sure that my dad is making himself pretty damn comfortable up there right now. Thank you."

There's something else about funerals that really unnerves me. It's the way that those eyes stare at you full of pity as though you've got the worst life in the world. But hell—I'm doing pretty well—everything's still functional.

There's this taboo—if you will—on death in our society today. We act as if death is the worst possible thing that could happen to somebody. The thing is my dad lived a long, healthy life. He always had food, shelter, clothing, and love. Am I saying it didn't hurt to lose him? Fuck, no. A feeling like that can last for years and years. What I am saying is that sometimes it's people's time to go and that's that. We're not meant to live forever.

"Daddy, do you think grandpa can love me from all the way up in heaven?"

I looked deeply into his glassy, tear filled eyes, picked him up, and ruffled his hair, "Grandpa always love you no matter where he is, son, and so do I—remember that."

Fin

There it is everyone! The finale! I hope you liked the ending and I also hope that no one was let down. I've been writing since '06 and it's been just an amazing ride! I'm glad you all stuck with me and kept reading! As always tell me what you honestly think. I love the reviews and the feedback no matter what you have to say. Also, I'm looking for story ideas and I'm open for any genre for my next project! Thanks for reading!

-chickenboyssuck