Christmas, 2025, Lima, OH

Toby dropped Will and Daniel off at the door of the funeral home. "I'll park and come in," Toby said, waving them on. "I want to make sure we're at the front of the line on the way to the cemetery - it's a complicated route, and you know Andi will get lost if she don't have someone to follow."

Will nodded soberly. "Good idea. I'll see you inside." He clutched Toby's hand briefly before he and Daniel walked up the cobbled path. Daniel hung back a little on the way in to the brick building.

"Is Grandma going to be there?" he wanted to know.

"Well, her body will be," said Will, and let Daniel hover just outside. "This isn't your first funeral. What's getting to you?"

"It's the first one where I really knew the person who... died," Daniel said. His ten-year-old gaze looked far too wise and far too scared at the same time.

Will ruffled his son's tawny curls. "It's okay to feel weird. Death is confusing to everyone, even adults."

Daniel nodded, and took the first step; Will followed him inside. They picked up a program; together they regarded the words Memorial - Deborah Schuester with solemnity. "How's Grandpa doing?"

Will smiled at his son's empathy, even in the face of his own conflict. "He's coping. It's hard to lose someone who's been in your life for so long. They were married over forty-five years."

"Whoa." Daniel blinked and considered that vast sum of years as his father ushered him into the viewing room. It didn't feel like such a long time, to Will, now that he'd passed forty - would hit fifty in just a few more years, to tell the truth - but he had a pang of regret that he would never attain forty-five years of marriage with anyone. Terri and I didn't even get to ten years, and Toby and I, we started a little late, he thought. Unless you count our fifteen years together as kids.

"Uncle Will," he heard from two voices, one high, one low, and was engulfed in a double hug.

"Dunc - Cory," he said, laughing. "Don't knock me over, now."

"Where's Jordan?" Duncan asked, the low voice - now quite low, since his voice had changed to a surprising bass. It's too bad he has no interest in singing, Will thought.

"Spending Christmas with Grandma Del Monico. It was too late to change the plane tickets."

"I'm so sorry about your mom," Duncan said. Will smiled gratefully at the teenager.

"She was sick for a long time," he said. "It's better this way."

"Do you miss her?" Cory asked, feathering her white-blonde hair back with her fingers. She was stylishly dressed as always, and the makeup she wore made her look about twenty-five years old, instead of the seventeen she was.

Will nodded. "My mom and I were never that close," he said. "Not like your moms and you are. But yes, I do miss her. I guess you never get over losing your mom." Suddenly he was perilously close to tears, and he turned away to straighten the flower arrangement rather than make the kids uncomfortable. "Daniel, you guys don't have to wait around here. If you want to hang out with Duncan, you can go outside."

"I think I'd rather be with you, if that's okay," Daniel said quietly. Duncan waved and disappeared down the hall.

"He's going to smoke a cigarette," Cory whispered to the two of them conspiratorially, shuddering at the thought. "Disgusting."

"Yeah, well, I smoked them too, for a while. And I was a singer and knew better." Will glanced at the music Cory was holding. "Is that what you're going to sing today?"

"Yeah." She held up "Vissi d'arte" from Tosca. "Dad said Grandpa Barry wanted something classical. I won the Mactel competition last month with this one."

"I hear you also got a juicy scholarship to B-W," he said, putting an arm around her. "You think you might go with music after all?"

"I don't know," she said with a dramatic sigh. "I love dance, but I like singing too, and the money is hard to turn down."

"Double major?" he suggested.

"Are you corrupting my daughter with the lure of the arts?" came Andi's caustic voice from behind them. A full head shorter than Cory, she remained a commanding presence. She tucked her arm around Daniel and hugged him.

"Hi, Aunt Andi," Daniel said.

"Whatever, Mom," Cory said, rolling her eyes and grinning. "With you and Dad already in music, I can't see how Uncle Will's opinion's going to matter all that much."

"Don't give me that crap," said Andi, grimacing fiercely. "You know you listen to your uncles way better than you listen to your parents."

"True," Cory said, with a wicked glance that looked so much like Toby that Will had to laugh. Brad's kids had gone through the question-and-answer with their parents long ago. Toby and Will were uncles, regardless, and Brad was definitely Dad, but Will loved those glimpses of Toby in his nephew and niece's genetics.

"Brad and Laurie are outside with your dad," Andi said. "C'mon, kiddo, let's get your voice warmed up." She kissed Will fiercely on the cheek and towed her daughter down the hall.

"Aunt Andi's kind of bossy," Daniel said, and Will laughed again.

"She's always gone for what she wanted. Good thing, too, or your cousins never would have been born."

Daniel had always been a thoughtful kid, but he was even more introspective than usual today. Something about funerals that brings out the thinker in people. "How come Mom's not here?" he asked finally.

That might be too complicated for me, today, Will thought, and he kissed Daniel on the forehead. "She had another commitment, but she sent her love to Grandpa." He spotted Toby, Brad and his father coming in through the front door. "I'm going to sit and talk to Grandpa for a bit. You want to stay with me or go with Papa?"

"I'll go with Papa," Daniel said. He hugged Will, then went to hug Brad, and Will's father, before heading down the hall with Toby. Toby and Will exchanged quick glances, but after so many years of friendship, they didn't need more than that to understand what was going on with their son.

Will's dad's face was lined and drawn, but his eyes were dry and he seemed calm enough. It was hard to tell with him; he kept so much to himself, even more now, since he'd finished school and started working as a patent lawyer, than when Will was living at home. "She's all set in her casket?" he said, his voice quiet and sad.

"I didn't see her yet, but it looks like everything's been taken care of," Will said. "How you holding up, Dad?"

"Fair," he said. There was a strange resolute expression on his face. "I - there's something I need to tell you, Will."

Will glanced around, then took his father by the arm and led him to a bench out of the way of the approaching guests. "People are going to start coming in pretty soon. They're going to want to talk to you."

"This can't wait," said his dad, shaking his head. "No more. First you - then everyone. It's time."

Will's brow wrinkled and he watched his dad closely, concerned. He felt a sudden sense of vertigo, as though he were looking down at his father from a great height. "All right, dad. What is it?"

"It's about me and your mother," he began. His voice shook, but it quickly steadied, and became strong, stronger than Will had heard from his dad in a long time. "It started long before you were born, when we met in college. She and I - we loved each other. As best as we knew how."

"You don't have to tell me this," Will said, but his dad shook his head violently back and forth, and Will had to hold on to his arm to help him calm down.

"I do," he said. "I should have told you years ago. Things were different back then, Will. It wasn't easy for people. People like you."

"Like me?" Will said.

"Yes," his dad nodded, and took a resolute breath. "And... like me."

"Dad," Will breathed.

"Lots of us married girls," he said, his eyes pained, begging for Will to understand. "We didn't have any other way to be. There weren't any role models on television, just laughing stocks. No one in public office was telling the truth about themselves. In the theater... people knew, but it was never talked about outside the community. It was the biggest, worst-kept secret."

Will's head was reeling, but he realized he was less surprised than he might have been. "Mom knew?"

His father laughed. "Of course. She and Charles were friends, even before. He and I were in the service together."

"Charles." Will's eyes grew wide. "You mean - Uncle Charlie?"

"You remember him." His dad's expression was intense, almost greedy, peering into Will's face. "What do you remember?"

"He - he took me to the circus," Will said, struggling. "I was five - kindergarten. The elephants were scary. He bought me a caramel apple." He sifted through his memories, blinking. "Um. He had warm hands that smelled like soap. He was - " Will swallowed. "He died, didn't he?"

"AIDS," said his father, lost in his own memories. "When you were seven. We had a quiet memorial for him, a little military funeral, but nobody knew outside our friends what was really going on. That's when we turned the guest room into a sewing room for your mother. We didn't - need it anymore."

Will regarded his father in horror. "Dad?"

"I'm telling you this now, because it's the truth," his dad said, firmly. "I don't want you to feel sorry for me. That's not what I want. It's because - your mother always wanted me to tell you. And I was afraid." His smile hurt Will's heart. "When you and Toby finally - I was so proud of you, son. I was so glad that you were going to get to have what I didn't. You scared me when you two split up, but... it turned out okay. And there's Jordan and Daniel."

"You've been alone all this time," Will murmured, stunned.

"Not alone," his dad said. "Your mother, we were... she was always my friend. She never expected me to be more than I could be for her. And, of course, we had you." His father ruffled his hair, just as Will had done to his own son just minutes ago. "That was enough."

"But - there was no one else? No other - men, after Uncle Charlie?"

Will's dad shook his head. "I couldn't." He looked sadly at Will. "Could you imagine being with another man, if Toby died?"

"I - I don't know," said Will, thinking of the times in the past when he and Toby had been apart, all the many stretches of months and years, filled with other relationships, some of them meaningful, most of them not. "Maybe not. No one who mattered, anyway."

"Mr. Schuester?" The funeral parlor director interrupted them with an expectant glance. "We're going to get started with the memorial service. Are you wanting to say a few words?"

"Yes, thank you," his dad nodded. "I'll be ready."

"Dad," Will said quietly, "what do you want me to tell the kids? They're going to have questions."

"Well." His father squeezed his shoulder and smiled at him. "I'm going to fix that right now."

The minister welcomed everyone and said a few pithy words about Will's mom that showed he'd never actually met her. Then it was Will's dad's turn. He cleared his throat and regarded the room, his shoulders square and his back tall. He looked at Will, sitting beside Toby, gripping his hand, with Daniel on the other side.

"Deborah was my best friend," Will's dad said. "But I'm here to recognize someone else, too; someone who passed long ago, but was part of our lives, and he deserves his memorial too. His name was Charles..."

Charles Anderson was my friend
His clothes in our closet still smell like him
All these years we kept two bedrooms
The one we dusted and the one we used
Guess we did that for all of you
The truth is all that matters to me now

Wasn't he handsome today in his uniform?
Just like the day he left back in '44
All the while that he was over there
We were brave, we were scared
I always knew losing him would be more than I could bear
The truth is all that matters to me now

Now I wait until they lay me down
Next to him again in this ground
I believe in the promised land
And I believe that God understands
Cause he made me to love Charles Anderson
The truth is all that matters after all
The truth is all that matters to me now

- All That Matters - Mark Weigle