Note: Organization has never been one of my talents. Neither has math. I think it's time for Karen's funeral, but I could be wrong. We can pretend though, right? Also, I've done major rearranging of the stuff I wrote before, so if you see inconsistencies, that's why. I'm trying to fix them, let me know if there's something obvious that I missed.

There was no time or energy for celebration. Saturday came far before I was ready. It was hard to believe that Mom died less than a week before. It seemed like an eternity had passed.

There was a suit on my bed when I went inside it the night before. Keith must have picked it up for me. Keith knocked on my door to wake me up at 7:30. He sat on the foot of my bed, "Morning Luke. Did you see the suit?" I groaned something that sounded a tiny bit like a yes. Keith understood. "Haley is coming at 9 and we'll leave here once she gets here." I made the noise that sounds remotely like a yes again. He patted my back and left the room.

I got up and took a shower, rehearsing my speech in my head. It was so hard to come up with something to say. How could I possibly sum up 16 years of her being there for every minute of my life? Both Whitey and Keith offered to help, but I wanted to do it by myself. Nothing I wrote seemed significant enough.

Dear Mom, sorry for all the hell I put you through. Scratch that. Dear Mom, Thanks for not aborting me like my ass of a father wanted.

As I rehearsed my latest version in the shower, it still didn't seem good enough. I got dressed and sat at the kitchen table with Keith, burying my face in my hands. The whole custody thing was a nice distraction. Not that it was nice by any means, but as long as I was concerned about if I would ever see my uncle again, I was missing Mom less. Now it was all I could think about.

Keith put a plate of scrambled eggs in front of me. I shook my head. "I'm not hungry."

"Eat, Lucas, please."

"If I eat, I'll just throw it up later."

He took the plate back and set it by the sink. It was the only dirty dish. I looked around, the kitchen was clean. Spotless. The living room was clean. The pillows were actually on the couches and the blankets that were covering me all week were folded and back in the wicker basket by the fireplace.

"You cleaned?"

"Don't sound so surprised, Luke, I do clean sometimes."

"That's not true. You don't clean. You just don't make messes."

He smiled, "that's something you could stand to learn."

"Yeah, yeah, Mom used to tell me that, too."

"Well I'm not cleaning your room, so you have to learn quickly."

"Wait, I didn't agree to that."

He patted my shoulder, "tough, kid, tough."

Keith did the last bit of cleaning while I sat at the kitchen table watching him.

"How's the speech coming?" He asked finally, after I had been staring at him for at least 3 minutes. We had agreed not to call it a eulogy. It was too formal. Mom wouldn't have liked it.

I shook my head and looked down again. "It's not."

"Can I hear what you have?"

I shook my head. "It's not good enough."

"Nothing you have is going to seem good enough, Luke, but I promise you that whatever you say, she'll be proud of you."

I looked up at him. That actually sounded kind of good. Who knew Keith was the sentimental type?

"And I'll be proud of you, too," he ruffled my hair, and then realized it was still wet. He wiped his hands on his pants. I would have smiled if I wasn't so preoccupied.

Haley came over at a quarter to nine. Her face was tearstained. She must have been practicing her speech. I was too something to cry. I couldn't figure out if it was too tired, too emotionally exhausted, too drained, too detached, too...something. I just couldn't cry.

The church was packed. I had no idea Mom even knew that many people. The front row was for Keith, Haley and me. Nathan and his mother were behind us. I had a feeling Nathan would have liked to be with Haley, but she told him not to. I made a mental note to thank her. The whole basketball team was there too. The river court guys and all 18 Ravens sat together, looking incredibly uncomfortable. I didn't blame them. I felt out of place, too. I had never set foot into a church before this.

The regulars from the café were all there, including the old people who always had candy they would sneak to me when Mom wasn't looking. Peyton, Brooke and several other cheerleaders were there, too.

Women I recognized as Mom's friends from high school had their own row. Martha Lansing, Child Services was behind them, sitting next to Theresa Anderson, Stupid Questions Department.

In the lobby were pictures that Keith must have picked out. There was a table of Mom growing up, and another of Mom with me and another of various friends, Keith included.

Haley spoke first. She grabbed my hand when it was time to go up to the podium and wouldn't let go. I nodded for support, but she was frozen. I stood up with her and held her hand through the speech. She talked about how Mom was like her second mother and an amazing woman. It was sappy and Haley and beautiful, and I loved Haley even more because of it.

Keith spoke next. He really did love her, more so than I previously thought. I knew that he had to love Mom enough to stay and play daddy to me, but I didn't realize how much he truly cared about her. My respect for my uncle soared at that moment. He organized the entire funeral by himself, watched out for me, and sat through a child services investigation in the last week. How was he still functioning?

My turn came last. Keith and Haley stood up there with me, offering their support. I looked at all the people that Mom had touched in her life and I realized that I didn't need a script. I wadded up the piece of paper I had scribbled some notes on, gazed into the teary eyed audience and spoke,

"I watched Sesame Street until I was ten. Everyday in the back room of the café where Mom kept my coloring books and legos, I would sit with my fruit of choice and watch it. Mom never made fun of me, and she never discouraged my love of a show made for three year olds. There was never a sports game of mine that she missed, or a test that didn't go on the fridge. She saved every single art project and report card that I ever brought home, regardless of the fact that I have absolutely no artistic abilities. I know that my mom gave up a lot for me and she never once complained.

"Looking at all of you I can see that I wasn't the only one that cared about her."

I pointed at Ian from the river court who used to live next door to me, "I remember when Ian lost his dog and Mom helped him make up signs for Rover until someone found him. I tried to draw a picture of him, but it looked more like a mutilated cow than a dog, so she used one of your photographs to make the signs." Ian smiled and nodded. A few other people remember the signs so obviously made by two 7 year olds and smiled too.

"And Mr. Jackson," he was sitting with the café regulars, "you always ordered the strangest things on your sandwiches that ended up actually tasting good. Mom added a special 'Jackson sandwich of the week' that you still pick."

He nodded, "it's pickles, mustard and peanut butter this week." He smiled.

"How that always manages to be the best seller, Mr. Jackson, I'll never know," I added.

There was a general chuckle that went around the room.

One of Mom's high school classmates stood up, "She made up the best cheers Tree Hill has ever seen. She won best choreographer all four years of high school." I smiled. She never told me that. "Then she got us all out of detention for folding up our skirts too short by telling Mr. Durham that since we worked so hard to get our legs nice enough to show off, we should be allowed the opportunity to let everyone see."

Everyone laughed again.

Someone in the front row told us how Mom gave her her first waitressing job which allowed her to pay her way through college, and Jake told everyone that she let him bring his daughter to work. Another person told us how Mom gave her a batch of her double chocolate fudge brownies to her family reunion and they were the most popular item there.

The service took an hour longer than it was supposed to because people kept standing up and sharing their stories. Eventually the minister had to call the service to a close because there was a wedding starting soon.

Keith patted my back and said, "she would definitely be proud."

We stood in the doorway while everyone left. People offered their condolences, which sounded so empty. Everyone was "sorry for my loss" and most people were "there for me" should I "need anything." Yeah, I need you to clean my room from now on.

Brooke and Peyton were the last to come out of the church.

Peyton shook her head slightly, indicating that she had not told Brooke about us. I was okay with that. I still didn't think she needed to know.

"That was a great speech, Luke," Peyton touched my hand and then let it go.

"Yeah, I'm really sorry, Luke, I've been trying to call you..." Brooke said, also taking my hand as Peyton had done, she, however, did not let it go.

"I didn't really want to talk to anyone," I said with no emotion. I didn't want to deal with Brooke right then.

Her eyes welled with tears, "Talk to me, Lucas."

Peyton muttered something about going to the bathroom and she left.

I pulled my hand away from hers. Brooke started crying.

"Can we not do this right now?" I asked.

She nodded through her tears. "Why don't you just call me when you're ready to talk," she said quietly.

I agreed.

"What I don't understand is, if you didn't want to talk to anyone, why did you talk to Peyton?"

She kissed me lightly on the lips and left, wiping her eyes as she walked away.

Peyton never came back either.