No one slept much that night. Josh awoke at 3 am, gasping, to find his pillow soaked. When he went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror, he stared at his reflection gloomily. His eyes were red and puffy, and he realized he must have been crying in his sleep. He splashed cold water on his face and wandered into the living room, flicking on the television and staring at infomercials for two hours until he felt like he could reasonably start getting ready for the day. If there were anything he was dreading, it was the sight of his mother. She'd left a message when he was at the wake that she was going to be there for the funeral, and he didn't know if he'd be able to handle her sympathy at this point. He spent the entire time he was in the shower trying to figure out if there were any way to avoid it and came to no fruitful conclusions.
When it was finally time for him to leave to meet everyone at the funeral home again, he was somewhat relieved to see that the sun was out. Nothing could make a day like this more depressing than it already was than buckets full of rain. It was cold, though, and he walked to the funeral home faster than he really wanted to because he once again got there first. Luckily, C.J., Toby, Leo, Sam, Will, the President and the First Lady met him right away, and they all went in together. They slowly made their way to the front of the room. The rows were already filling, and they filed in behind the Mosses with the Secret Service lining the perimeter. Josh sat on the end reluctantly, clutching the paper where he'd written the eulogy. He couldn't even bring himself to look at it now, and he honestly didn't know how he was going to read it to all of these people in just a few minutes.
Those few minutes went by far more quickly than he both wanted and expected, and all of a sudden, the service had started. The moment it did, the sniffling started too, all around him. Josh kept his head down, but he was aware of Sam sitting next to him, his shoulders shaking slightly. He'd known Sam was close to Donna, but he'd forgotten how much he, too, had relied on her for advice and comfort. This was a sharp reminder of the hole she would be leaving in all of their lives, and he could feel the tears welling up in his own eyes. He blinked hard because all of a sudden, there was an expectant pause, and without even looking up, he knew it was his turn to speak.
Taking a deep breath, Josh rose from his seat and approached the podium awkwardly. He stood behind it and tried not to glance to his left, tried not to see the coffin. That would be his one downfall…. With shaking hands, he opened the crumpled paper and stared at it for a moment, trying to make sense of the words that were threatening to swim on the page before him. He rubbed his hand quickly over his eyes, cleared his throat, and began to speak in a hoarse voice that was nothing like his own.
"As some of you may know, I was Donna's boss in the White House. But really, that statement is misleading because if anyone called all of the shots in that office, it was definitely Donna. I could barely dress myself without her guidance let alone find any of my files or make it to any of my meetings on time. But Donna was much more to me than an assistant. We spent more time together in the past eight years than either of us spent with anyone else, and there was no one I trusted more with anything. I would have trusted Donna with my life, but she made the mistake of trusting me with hers."
Here Sam looked up sharply. This was not part of the eulogy he'd helped Josh write. He turned to C.J., and her mouth had fallen open. She looked as if she wanted to jump up and pull Josh back to his seat, but she also knew he had to do this for his own sanity. He needed to take some of the blame… just like she'd been afraid he would. He continued.
"Donna asked me if she could go to the Middle East, and I said yes." He stared out at everyone in the room, but it was clear that the only person he was seeing was a woman with long blond hair. He shook his head, tears suddenly springing to his eyes again and the lump rising dangerously fast in his throat. "I should have known better than to send the woman I now know I loved more than anyone into that kind of danger, but she wanted to go, and when she really wanted something, I really wanted to give it to her. And now she'll never know how much she meant to me." And here he stopped because he couldn't have gone on if they'd paid him. He hung his head and was completely oblivious to someone coming and putting her arm around him to lead him back to his seat. She sat down beside him, and that's when he finally looked up. He gasped when he realized it was his mother, looking at him with that same measured look he recognized so well. She'd given him this very look when his sister had been declared dead in the fire and on the night when he'd flown home after he'd heard about his dad. It was the look that said, 'I know you're blaming yourself, but you'd better stop. It's horrible, and it's unfair, but it's not your fault.' She'd said these words to him too many times, and she didn't need to say them now. He read it all in her eyes, and his face crumpled.
"Oh Mom," he whispered, and she put both arms around him, pulling him to her. As the service wound to its inevitable end, Josh was oblivious to all of it. He had his face in his mother's shoulder, and his own shook violently with the sobs that she could release with a look and a touch.
When they all stood to leave the chapel, it was after the crowds had gone before them. Donna's parents, drenched in their own grief, turned to Josh for a moment before they left.
"That was… that was beautiful," Mr. Moss managed to say. "Thank you for caring so much about our Donna. And you can't feel responsible. You knew our girl. When she wanted something, there was no standing in her way. Thank you for giving her what she wanted." Josh nodded wordlessly.
"And Josh?" Mrs. Moss said softly, taking his hand and looking into his reddened eyes, "she knew. And she felt the same way."
He stared at her, feeling his lip quivering against his will, and suddenly her arms were around him, and they were both crying. But he could feel a weight lifting slightly. This was going to be a long road, but he suddenly realized something. For the first time since he'd lost Donna, he didn't feel like he'd have to travel alone.