Finn

As darkness blankets the sky in our small, New Jersey suburb, I am still shaking from the conversation I had had with Mr. Schue. I think a lot of it, however, had to do with the fact that my daughter wasn't home yet and unfortunately, didn't know what time she would be. She's used to not having someone to come home to, so doing things like texting someone that she is on her way home is out of the normal for her. Though she's been staying here since the beginning of July, our communication has been nothing short of sour. I get that she's an adult, but I just wanted her to tell me that she was safe and on her way home, like normal daughters do.

I know that she hates me — I've convinced myself of it for years. I know that she thinks I abandoned her and her mother, but in reality, that's the furthest thing from the truth. I couldn't let her know that, however. Her mother wasn't here to defend herself and I didn't feel like arguing again this evening.

The conversation with Mr. Schue had gone well for the most part. Opening up to him felt different than opening up to the members of my family. He felt like an un-biased third party in the entire situation. After much thought and consideration, he had told me I could come down and stay with he and Ms. Pillsbury when and if I came into town. The conversation was going really well, of course, until he brought up my drinking. And then, it ended abruptly, with me telling him I didn't want to talk to him anymore. But the truth was was that I was scared and lost. I was a grown man-child crying out for help. I needed the help and I wanted the help. Maybe I was overthinking this whole trip to Ohio. Maybe I was thinking that by going there, some lightbulb would click, and I wouldn't feel so lost anymore.

I just didn't know what I wanted right now.

Feeling lost was normal to me. So normal to me in fact that embracing any sort of change scared the shit out of me. And even though Mr. Schue has offered me his airline miles to save money on the plane ticket, I still declined. Anna and I would just watch the memorial from separate rooms in the home, away from each other, like we had been for the past few weeks. It felt nice to have her here, don't get me wrong. But I'm sure she was ready to go back to her life in the city, much like I was ready to go back to mine here. Whatever that may be. I was so used to doing a routine with Rachel that I had pretty much not had one since her passing.

Going back to normal, I think, is actually what scared me. Because normal means that my life without her is really real and she is gone forever, and never coming back.

"You're up?" I hear my daughter ask, as she places her keys in the bowl on the end table in the foyer and quietly tip-toes into the living room, her high stilettos grasped firmly between her pointer and middle fingers.

"Yeah," I say, as I clear my throat and take a sip of the lukewarm Gatorade next to me. "I was just watching the game."

"Cavs or Indians?" she asks, hanging her purse over the back of one of the high-top barstools at our kitchen island.

"Uh, it was a re-run of one of the Cavs games from this season," I tell her, running my fingers through my oily hair.

She sighs, and lets her hair down upon taking a seat diagonal from me on an unoccupied section of the living room couch. "Let me guess, it was a game they lost?"

I nod my head, as she crosses her right leg over her left, and sits back in her seat. "Do they show anything else?" I chuckle.

"They were way better with Lebron," she smirks. "I don't get how you can watch those. They're so depressing now that he went to the Lakers."

"I've been a Cleveland sports fan my whole life, baby girl," I smile. "You're used to heartache that they bring after awhile."

"I just don't get how Lebron could have thought he'd win a championship with the Lakers," she boasts. "I think he should just come back to Cleveland and retire."

"He won't," I remind her. "Not for awhile, at least."

"They had a legacy going on," Annalise replies. "And he wanted Hollywood and decided to leave, yet again. The Lakers are too young and way too new. It's not going to happen for a long time. The only reason it happened with the Heat and the Cavs is because he wanted it so bad. I don't think he wants it anymore."

"Of course he wants it," I remind her. "He wants to be better than Jordan ever was."

"We were having that debate the other day in the office. Lebron is hands down the goat."

"Eh, I wouldn't be so sure about that," I reply. "I lived through Jordan. You only lived through Lebron."

"Well, I mean, hey. We all have to have our vices. Yours is clearly Cleveland sports," she smiles.

"Cleveland teams are tradition," I remind her. "Your grandparents raised me as a Cleveland fan, and I'm glad I got to do the same for you. It's better than being a Knicks fan."

"Gross," she replies, wrinkling her nose.

I place both hands on my recliner's arms and stand up too fast, allowing all of the blood to rush to my head at once. I make my way into the kitchen and open up the oven to check on the casserole that I had put in about fifteen minutes ago. The smell wafting through our home is orgasmic — it's some crack chicken recipe Kurt had found on Pinterest — with chicken breast, rice, ranch dressing, cheddar cheese, and bacon. I was starving and hadn't eaten a real meal in days. When Kurt and Blaine had come into town for Rachel's services, Kurt had made several casseroles for us to freeze. It was enough food for an eternity. Or maybe it just felt like an eternity because Annalise and I hadn't eaten anything that he had made yet.

"Dad?" she asks, breaking my train of thought.

"Yeah?" I parrot back.

"Did you hear what I asked?"

"No," I reply, hanging my head a bit. "I'm sorry. Can you ask me again?"

"Absolutely," she smiles. "Do you remember when you tried to get mom into football?"

I chuckle, a wide smile spreading across my face. "Of course. She had tried when I was on the team in high school — and that failed — so I decided to try again a few years later. She would talk through the whole game."

"Yeah," Annalise laughs. "Any sports game she would talk through. And then when she finally started to understand it, you would get so excited to hear her yell at the television in unison with you."

"I think she ended up really liking football after that," I smile. "She would get so angry at them."

"It's the Browns," she tells me. "Anyone would get angry at them."

"I think they'll do really well this year," I tell her. "Now that we have OBJ and Mayfield and Chubb and Garrett... I think we're going to the Super Bowl."

"Oh, dad," she says, placing her hand on her forehead. "No, no. It's the Browns. They're working with a whole new team, the coach seems like he has no discipline... I don't think they're Super Bowl bound anytime soon."

"Your mom always wanted to see them go to the Super Bowl in her lifetime."

"I don't think any of us will," she laughs.

"How was work?" I ask, changing the topic of conversation, as I begin to root around the drawers for hot pads that we used to have a lot of.

"They're in the dryer, with the load of towels we started last Wednesday," she reminds me. "You can just used a clean dish rag." Annalise rubs the temples of her forehead together, then her eyes. I can tell from here that she is exhausted and worn. I didn't want to bring up anything about the trip this evening. We were having a really good conversation for the first time in forever and I couldn't bring myself to ruin it. I didn't know how she would react — her mood was so up and down all of the time — plus the medication that she was on makes her snap instantly. I was enjoying talking to my daughter, and silently make a promise to myself that I wasn't going to be the one to bring anything up. "Work was good," she replies, answering my initial question. "It's different, but it's good."

"Answering the phones in the admissions office is different?" I ask, raising my brow.

"Uh... oh, yeah. I mean it's not hard or anything. But the admissions office is swamped right now with classes starting soon. I don't get why people are so last minute with things."

"You get that from your mom," I remind her, as I open up the oven door once more. The casserole isn't quite done yet, and I'm frustrated, because I'm starving. I'm frustrated because I'm sure Anna is too after a long day of work. I can't even do this right. It's taking too long and I'm ready to grab a fork and start eating it as it's inside of the oven, not caring if I burn the roof of my mouth. There probably is only a few more minutes until it's finished, but I'm impatient. "I'm a procrastinator and she was not, by any means."

"That's true," Anna replies, as she lets a small yawn escape her lips. "I talked to Sam on my way home from work," she tells me, changing the topic of conversation. "I'm sorry I didn't text you when I was on my way home. I promised I would call him back."

"It's okay," I tell her, wishing she wouldn't be so hard on herself. "You're home safe, so that's all that matters. What did Sam have to say?"

"We just talked for awhile," she begins, grabbing a stray throw pillow and spreading out on the chaise at the end of the couch. "We talked about a lot of things — and we agreed that you and I would be coming down there this weekend. I was able to get Friday afternoon off. I still have to go in in the morning, but, you and I are booked on the 3:15pm flight to Cleveland."

"Wait... what?" I ask, in a state of disbelief. "So, we don't have to book a flight?"

"Nope," she smiles. "Sam took care of it. He had extra miles leftover and told me he'd missed a few Christmases when I was younger and this would make up for it. I offered to give him money but he told me to shut up."

"And you're sure you want to go?" I ask, as I grab the dish towel I had thrown on the kitchen counter. I remove the Pyrex pan from the stove and place it on top of the kitchen island. Annalise makes her way off of the couch and begins to get our two plates, two forks, and a serving spoon. I see her struggle and almost grab three, but she quickly shakes that thought away from her mind. "I don't want to make you do anything that you don't want to do."

"I want to do this," she tells me, as she stands on her tippy toes and places her hand on the bottom of my back. "I think it's important that we go, and I'm sorry I didn't see your point of view earlier."

"It's okay," I tell her. "Really, honey, it's okay. I know this is all going to take some getting used to."

"I miss her."

"I miss her too, Annalise. More than you'll ever know." As I wipe a stray tear from my eye, my daughter does the same. She embraces me in a hug — I can't remember the last time that has happened — and we are still with each other for a while. Once we break apart, she says, "let's eat before this food gets cold."

"If you want to put comfy clothes on, I can make you a plate. Maybe we could watch Believeland?"

She smiles at me, as her lips quiver. She halts it immediately, and nods her head. "I'd love that."

Annalise

I had two missed calls from Sam when I got off of work today.

I had told him several times I would call as soon as I was off of work, however, I don't think he understood the concept of time. It was sweet that he was calling the check on me, but I didn't need a babysitter. I didn't need someone to look after me. I was an adult, doing adult things, at an adult job.

I was still shaking from my conversation with Jesse St. James, merely twenty-six minutes earlier. The rain had succumbed the once bustling city to such a quiet, eerie feeling that part of me was glad I would be driving back to New Jersey shortly. After the day I had, I wanted to see my dad. I don't know why, since he and I can't seem to get along, but I really did miss him. He needed help. I'm not the only one that lost my mom.

As I make my way into the car port, I fumble around for my keys for a bit before I unlock the door of my sedan successfully. I sit down in the driver's seat and turn on the heat, to rid my body of the chilling feeling from the rain I had gotten stuck in hailing a cab and walking to the parking garage. I plug in my iPhone to the USB port in my car and turn the Bluetooth on. I think about texting my dad, but then I think differently, because knowing his patterns I would just come home to find him passed out on the couch, bottle of whiskey next to him. And then the loneliness would set in and it would be like I was living on my own again, which I didn't think I was ready to do yet.

I dial Sam's number immediately, and he answers on the first ring. "Hello?"

"Hey," I tell him, as I put my car in reverse and begin to back out of my space. "It's me."

"I called you twice. Did you just get home?"

"No," I say, shaking my head. "I just got out of work."

"Oof," he replies, whistling through his teeth. "This late?"

"We ended at about 8:30, but my director had to talk to me after. I didn't do such a good job today," I reply, biting down on my bottom lip. "I thought for sure he was going to fire me."

"Did he?" Sam asks, a little shocked.

"No," I shake my head. "No, he could sense that I was off. He was kind of nice about it I guess. He said that I could come in on Friday and work until 2. It doesn't leave us much time to hangout with you guys, but at least we won't be skipping it."

"I have Google pulled up now," he tells me, as I hear him type on the other end. "Are you guys going to be flying JFK or La..."

"LaGuardia," I tell him. "Probably JFK. I'll already be in the city, so my dad can just come and meet me. But I can book this when I get home."

"Shut up," he tells me. "I'll book this for you. I've missed holidays..."

"You've never missed a single holiday," I remind him. "Not my birthday, not Christmaskkuh; you even sent me flowers when I moved into my apartment." Sam had really taken the role of my godfather with stride. He didn't have kids of his own and he was so proud when my parents asked him to be my godfather all those years ago. He has never let me down. He was an amazing person, and I loved the hell out of him for everything he's done for me over the years.

"Maybe I missed one along the way?"

"I don't think so," I chuckle. "I can Venmo you the money when I'm not driving."

"I don't want your money," he reminds me. "It's no good here. I've got this. Plus it's cheaper since you're booking at the last minute."

I roll my eyes and turn my windshield wipers on, as the rain begins to pour down once more. "Thank you. Seriously, it means a lot to me."

"Don't thank me. Just start being nicer to your dad," Sam says in a sing-song voice.

"What?" I ask, hesitating at first to reply. "You're joking, right?"

"I'm not," he tells me. "I talked to him today. He's sad, Annalise. He's lost right now."

"But how is that..."

"How is that your fault. I know. Just... your dad is the best man I know. He is such a good parent. He has always tried to do right by you."

"I know," I say, as I let out a lengthy sigh. "I know I've been hard on him, but I'm worried about him and his drinking."

"I'm worried about that too," Sam tells me. "Which is why I have an idea. It's going to seem really crazy... but it definitely could work."

"I'm listening," I tell him.

"What if we... I... bought you a return ticket, but I only bought your dad a one-way ticket?"

"What do you mean?" I ask, stumbling over my words. "Like you guys are going to kidnap my dad?"

"No," Sam chuckles. "That'd be cool but no. Maybe we have him move in with us. He needs family right now. Maybe he comes and teaches glee club at McKinley with me."

"He's never going to go for that, you know..."

"Yeah," Sam replies.

"His whole life is here. I'm here. He's going to think you are insane."

"What if we took him to AA meetings, too? Burt and Carole already said they would find him a place. Burt even offered to go with," Sam says, as he begins to go off on one of his infamous tangents. "Think about it. Your dad is an amazing teacher. He could help me take this club all the way to nationals. It's in Disney World this year. We perform at Cinderella's castle like right outside of it. And we get to meet Mickey. And Pluto. And Goofy..."

"Sounds like a dream," I smile.

"I need your dad's help to get me there," Sam says. "I can't do it on my own. I mean I probably could, but having his help... and us doing it together as a team..."

"I like the idea," I tell him, as I begin to make my way out of the city and merge onto the turnpike. "Especially if you think it's going to help him and not make him sad in any way. Isn't that where you all met? Glee club?"

"Yeah," Sam tells me. "Your mother and father fell in love in the choir room over 80s ballads and show tunes."

I smile. I'd never known much about my parent's and how they fell in love. It's something I've always wanted to know, however. But asking now would be like pouring salt onto a wound. "I think it'll really help him, actually."

"Me too," Sam replies. "But don't tell him until you're getting ready to leave, okay? Plus you can always come visit."

"I can?"

"Yeah, I still have my Southwest credit card. I'll give it to you when you come down. Your flight is booked," he tells me. "Plus I just want to help your dad. He's done so much for all of us and has never asked anything in return. I figure that this is the least we could do."

"And Kurt and Blaine are okay with it?"

"Uh, yeah. They're the ones that suggested it in the first place."

"Wow," I reply. "You guys have thought of everything, huh?"

"He's lost, kiddo," Sam tells me. "And we want to get him found again. The Finn Hudson I know is so much stronger than all of this. I think it'll really help with everything going on. But seriously. Start being nicer to him. Maybe go home and I don't know, talk about something you guys have in common."

"We only have a few things in common," I reply. "We like sports and we loved my mom."

"I'd go with the sports stuff," he says. "He always loved that you loved Cleveland teams as much as he did. It's a good place to start. Maybe make dinner. I know Kurt made all of those recipes when we were down there. Pop a casserole in and watch a game or something."

"Good idea," I reply. "You always know just what to say, huh?"

"I don't think you ever really got to know your dad. And that's not fair to you. You knew him as a war hero and then as your mom's husband. And then as your strict parent. But you never got to know the side of Finn Hudson that we know."

"And what side is that?" I ask, as I merge into the lane for the automated system to read my EZ Pass.

"You'll see," Sam tells me. "And you'll know it once you see it. I wouldn't be telling you any of this if it wasn't true. Finn is like my brother. He saved me, he saved your mom, he saved his brother... he saved all of us. If he had never walked into the choir room that day, none of us would be where we are right now. And he loves you so much. He never wants to hurt you. He wants to be the best dad he possibly can be for you. And I know deep down, him moving to Ohio is how he can be the best dad. He can work on himself and give you your freedom."

"But I'm going to miss him," I say softly. "I can't imagine him not being more than forty minutes from me."

"This is for his best interest," Sam says. "You can't help him. You're too much like your mom. We on the other hand can help him. He'll listen to us. I promise you, after this season is over, he can go back to New York and be with you there. But let us try to take care of the man that has always taken care of us. Okay?"

"Okay," I say, softly giving up in that moment and feeling defeated. "Okay." I knew that they had my dad's best interest at heart and knew that they too wanted to help him. But I already lost one parent. I wasn't ready to lose another just yet.

Finn

I never thought that I would be doing something like this — going home, back to Ohio, for this reason. It's been nearly 7 weeks to the day now since she passed and it is the first time that I've had the courage to even look at the suit that I wore to her services, let alone pack it in a suitcase and take it with me. It's been pressed and dry clean, but even after all of that it will still be known as the suit that I wore to my wife's funeral. If I look closely enough, I can still see the watermarks left from being the shoulder that everyone cried on that day. Most people keep asking me how I'm feeling — what I'm feeling — and I don't have the answers that they want to hear. Everyone expects me to just move on and get over it. But how do you get over someone that quickly? How do you stop loving someone so quickly?

It's nice that my family is doing this special memorial for her. To know that everyone will be in attendance — everyone that can be, at least — truly warms my heart. Being together is hard and it makes it feel all the more real. But I need my family in a time like this.

There's a great quote by some famous chick that I Googled last night that says, "god never ends anything with a negative; God always ends on a positive. Because what is negative about going home?"

"This isn't real. I'm not going home for this." I have to keep telling myself these words over and over again to breathe.

She is going to be there. As soon as our flight lands, she is going to run up to me and jump into my arms and we will embrace, just like we have so many times in airports before.

I know better though. She isn't going to be there when our plane lands.

I am going to spend the rest of my life missing her.

I guess at this point, the show must... go all over the place, or something. Whatever Rachel would always say.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentleman aboard flight 253 from New York City to Cleveland," I hear the pilot say over the loud-speaker, as I reminisce on this afternoon. The boom of his voice pulls me immediately out of my trance. "We are approximately five minutes away from touching down in the Buckeye State. Please make sure that your seatbelts are securely fastened and that your tray-tables and head-rests are in the up-right position, and turn off all electronic devices at this time. On behalf of Southwest Airlines and the crew aboard flight 253, we want to thank you for flying with us today and welcome to Cleveland."

As the pilot's announcement concludes, I glance over at my daughter. She looks so peaceful in this moment. Her hazel eyes once full of sadness are shut tight, concealing the bags and streaks of mascara even if only for a few hours. Her small, curvy build is shifted against the passenger window, trying her best to get comfortable on the over-crowded flight. The auburn color of her hair is faded — her natural brunette locks were dyed over years ago — and held up high, out of her face. She had gotten a lot of Rachel — eyes, high cheek bones, and lips — rolled together with my stocky build, frame, and nose. Annalise was stunningly beautiful and had the best of me and the best of her mother mixed together to create... her.

"Annalise," I say, in a whisper-like tone, delicately touching her shoulder. When she doesn't budge, I try once more and say, "Annalise Caroline."

"Huh?" she asks groggily, once she comes to. "What?"

"Start waking up, sweetheart. We're going to be landing soon." I feel bad for startling her. She is puzzled when she first awakes, wiping the sleep away from her eyes and hitting her head against the back of her head-rest. Sleep hasn't come easy for her lately, and I feel bad for being the person stealing away that precious time.

"That was quick," she says, rubbing the back of her head. "What time is it?"

"A little after 5," I reply, allowing a small yawn to escape my lips. "Does your phone still have a charge left?"

"Why?" she smirks. "You forgot to charge yours, didn't you?"

"Yeah," I reply, exhaling sharply. "The damn thing died when we boarded the plane."

"So typical," Annalise says, rolling her eyes at me.

"I need you to text Sam for me, please. He's going to be picking us up."

"He is?" she asks, her eyes widening. Annalise has always had a soft spot for her godfather. When I was overseas, Sam moved in with Rachel and helped raise Annalise. He was one of her favorite people, right up there in the rankings next to her mom and her aunt Beth. "Are we staying in town this evening? We could just call and Uber or something. He didn't have to drive all of the way up here to get us. Beth was telling me about this really cool spot by where the Cavs play. You make your own tacos and..."

I shake my head, interrupting her mid-sentence. "The last thing I heard was that we were going to be staying down in Lima..."

"That makes no sense," Annalise replies, snickering under her breath. "Don't we have to come back up to Cleveland tomorrow for mom's thing? Wouldn't it just make more sense to stay up here, maybe take in the scenery, and prepare for tomorrow?"

"That wasn't my call to make," I tell her. "Your uncles want us to be as comfortable as possible." I shrug my shoulders. "For some reason, they thought that we'd be more comfortable in their home instead of some cheap hotel downtown."

"That's just really stupid," she groans. "A two and a half hour car ride is not what I wanted to endure after sitting on a cramped plane for hours."

"Just... try to be pleasant, okay?"

"Pleasant?" Annalise chuckles. "I don't think I need to be told to be pleasant, dad. They're my family..."

"Look. It's going to be an emotional next few days. No one is expecting you to act any certain way. Everyone is going through this whole thing differently. I just want you to remember that you are going to be around family this weekend and there are other ways to cope with all of your heartbreak and all of your anger other than lashing out and some of the other bad habits you've developed lately..."

"Oh, please," she snarls, as the flight attendant begins to usher us out of our seats. "Please, save the Finn Hudson father-of-the-year lecture for some other time when you're not doing the same bad habits as I am, okay?"

"Look. Let's just make it through these next few days together. As a team. Do you think you can find a soft spot in your heart to do that?"

"Absolutely," she says, nodding her head. "Yeah, lets get through this as a team."

Annalise

I had a dream this afternoon while I was aboard the flight that my mom's death was just some big hoax, orchestrated by my uncle Kurt and uncle Blaine to get my father and I to come visit them for the weekend.

I dreamt that they told my father that my mother had come down to Ohio six weeks prior. She was spending her days with them: working on costumes and songs for my mom's latest stint on Broadway, waiting for us to come down and rescue her, and whisk her back off to New Jersey.

I dreamt that she announced the cancer was officially gone and she was in remission, and that there were no signs of it ever returning. Her days would no longer be numbered and instead, she would get to grow old next to my father just like they had always planned.

I dreamt that she met us by baggage claim and in that dream, I dropped my possessions from my hands, ran to her, and gave her a big hug. It seems so trivial but a hug from my mom was one of the things that I longed for the most from her.

Upon our arrival at baggage claim however, I didn't see her anywhere and I think that's when it finally hit me that she was gone and was not coming back, no matter how real the dream may have felt.

Hopkins International Airport is a lot smaller than I remembered. As a child, I always thought that it was much bigger and I was terrified that I would end up lost in here one day. Flying was a fear that I had developed early on and always expected the worst each time. After admitting this to my parents, my mom too realized how much of a hassle it was to book a flight each time she and my father got a little homesick. We began renting vehicles instead and sitting in copious amounts of traffic, each time enduring the nine hour trip down to Lima to visit those familiar faces that brought both of my parents comfort in their time of loneliness. Most of the time, it would be a week long visit with my uncles or grandparents, and sometimes, an old friend would accompany us on our journey. Multiple people from my parent's high school lives stayed with us throughout my early childhood. The house was always loud and crazy — delicious food would be cooking in abundance on the stovetop or in the oven, drinks would be flowing about, and there was always music blaring from the speakers and everyone trying to sing over each other during each song that came on the radio.

Most of the time it was my mom.

I have a lot of good memories of growing up around them but always yearned to have that small town experience just as my mother and father had. I loved New York and the big city and the bright lights and all of the commotion, but I always wondered what it would have been like had I grown up in Lima. Would I have been in glee club like my parents were? Would Mr. Schuester had been my director? Would I have been cast in the school play?

Would I have ever had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder?

Each visit to Ohio made me yearn for it more and more. However, my mom's career was Broadway. Her entire life centered around stardom and fame and the bright lights of the theater.

And now, it was mine too.

But coming down to Ohio felt like I was coming home in a sense. We would always end up staying a few days longer when we drove; my father would end up faking some sort of car trouble. Transmissions don't go out that often, however, especially on rental vehicles. Soon, my mom caught on.

Eventually, we just stopped coming to Ohio.

"Annalise," I hear my father say from across the baggage claim area, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Sorry," I say, snapping out of my trance. "I was lost in my own little world there for a second."

"What did Sam say?" he asks, pulling the handle up on my Dooney and Bourke suitcase, making sure to keep a firm grasp on it. I can tell he wants to yell at me for using my mom's designer luggage and not the old drab stuff hiding in the back of the utility closet, but he doesn't say anything regarding that.

To be honest, I had completely forgot that I was texting him. My mind really does tend to wander a lot these days. At any moment, I have a million thoughts running freely through my head. I drift my focus down to my iPhone, and notice several new unread messages occupying my home screen. "He said that Blaine and Kurt will be picking us up because he got held up at work. He said he's sorry but he should be home shortly after we arrive and he can't wait to see us."

My father's face is soon filled with disappointment. I know how excited he was to spend some one-on-one time with his best friend, especially under these circumstances. They had grown extremely close since high school, despite the year age difference between them. He was the person I was looking forward to seeing the most — the one that would have made the trip down to Lima a little more bearable. Sam had moved to New York City a day after he graduated high school. He had kept in touch with my parents following their graduation a year prior. My father was in the Army at this point and my mother was attending her third semester at NYADA and Sam had his own dreams to chase, so, he moved into my mom and uncle Kurt's apartment in Bushwick to pursue a career in modeling. When that stint ran dry, he moved to Los Angeles to become an actor. A few years later, after the acting gig didn't work, he moved to Nashville to try to make it big in the honky-tonks and become the next overnight success in country music. Unfortunately, the singing career lasted shorter than the acting career, and soon he moved back to Ohio, attended classes at The Ohio State University, and graduated summa cum laude with a bachelor's degree in education. Sam was like this vagabond that couldn't stay in one place for too long — he got bored too easily. My dad was really looking forward to catching up with him, especially since he didn't get to the week and some change that he was in New York before and after my mom passed. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely adored my uncles. I was very much so looking forward to seeing them too. Deep down inside though, I knew that my father seeing his step-brother — my mom's absolute best friend in the entire world — would be like taking a knee to the groin right now. "They left a few hours ago," I say, continuing to read the texts in chronological order. "They are waiting for us outside of baggage claim. They will be in Blaine's white Ford Explorer, so, we have to keep an eye out for it."

"Alright then," my father tells me, as I sling my purse over my body and take my suitcase from him. "Let's get this show on the road."

"I'm sure they aren't going to be hard to miss," I state, as we make our way outside of Hopkins Airport. "They're probably holding up a big sign or something."

"I wouldn't put it past them," my father replies, as we find a place to stand on the crowded curbside. The weather outside is absolutely picturesque. The breeze coming in off of Lake Erie pulsed through my veins and the warmth of the sunlight beating down on my exposed shoulders was much needed after being in the air conditioner for the past few hours. The air smelt much cleaner here than back home and had a certain aura that I longed for for quite some time. The sky was a bright shade of blue and not a single cloud lingered overhead, hopefully signaling the good afternoon and evening ahead of us.

"They knew we flew Southwest, right?" I ask, as I stand on my tippy toes and stick my head out to the side, trying to spot a white Explorer amongst the other cars full of passengers eagerly awaiting to pick up their loved ones.

"You're really asking the guy without a phone?" my father asks, as he furrows his brow.

"Fair enough," I reply, as my dad mocks me jokingly. I roll my eyes and pull my iPhone back out of my purse. With little battery to spare, I dial my uncle Blaine's number and place him on speaker phone. "It's Annalise," I tell him, before he can even get any sort of greeting in, once the line picks up after a few short rings.

"Where are you guys?" he asks, concern visible in each word. "Was your flight delayed?"

"No," I reply, shaking my head. "It's a little messed up with all of the construction from what I can tell. We flew Southwest."

"I am going to kill Sam!" I hear my uncle Kurt exclaim in the background. "We have been over by Spirit for a freaking half an hour!"

"It's not a big deal, dude," my father tells him. "We just got out of baggage claim. We're standing out front."

"We'll be right there," Blaine says. No sooner do I begin to dig around my purse to get my bearings straight do I see their Explorer making its way towards us with the windows down and show tunes cranked.

"Don't hold the sign up now," I can hear Blaine say, as he puts the SUV in park. "It makes no sense to do it now."

"I feel like such an ass," Kurt chuckles. "I have been holding up that sign for a long time and I worked really, really hard on it."

"It's a nice sign!" I exclaim, as both men begin to make their way over to my father and I, giving us an abundance of hugs and attempting to help load the luggage into their trunk. The laughter is flowing freely from me, and it is the most that I think I have laughed in quite some time.

"Hi Lise," Blaine says, as he makes his way over to me, avoiding the luggage and leaving that to my father and Kurt. I barely recognize him, even though I just saw him a few weeks prior. A bow tie and hair gel are both lacking from his attire, and he sports a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, something that I don't think I've ever seen him wear before.

"Hi, uncle Blainey," I coo back, kissing him softly on the cheek and embracing him in a hug.

"It's good to see you, little bro," my dad tells Kurt, as they finish loading all of our belongings into the SUV.

"You look well, Finn."

"I'm... I'm trying," my father says, exhaling sharply.

"Hi, Anna," he tells me, as he wraps my body in an awkward-like side hug. This welcome hurts — and I knew that it would. The first thought that I have when he finally lets go of me is that I didn't want to cry. I love him to death. He and I have always been closer than Blaine and I: Kurt was my mother's best friend, after all. I could rely on my uncle Kurt for anything from fashion advice, to opinions about music, movies, television shows, politics, all of which we have bonded over. As I've gotten older, he was always the one I could turn to for relationship advice, the latest fight with my parents, and any trouble that I was having in social circles. My mother was his world, and when he lost her, I think a part of him died with her. "Hi, uncle Kurt," I say, finally mustering up some words to say to him. I can feel my whole body tremble in this moment. Tears begin welling up in my eyes and my throat closes up, making it that much more difficult to say anything else. The airport has become quite the madhouse since we arrived and the four of us settle into the SUV in a hurry, the warm greetings that we had longed for suddenly pushed aside. I was thankful that we got settled into the Explorer when we did. Who knows what would have happened had I kept standing there next to Kurt. As I settle into the backseat and wipe the stray tears from my eyes, all three men can see what is happening to me. They're family. I know I don't have to hide it. It's a sentimental moment for us all. Blaine turns on an old Broadway album and lowers the volume, as each of us closes our eyes and take a deep breath. My father is now crying because I am sitting in the backseat crying, clutching my gold star pendant in my hands.

"Rachel wouldn't want us to cry, guys," Kurt says, as he clears his throat from the passenger seat. "Remember, this weekend is a celebration of her. I know for a fact that she is looking down, praying that we make it to Lima in one piece and shed as little tears as possible and pretend that everything is... okay."

But this... this was not okay. It shouldn't have to be this way. This is not how our lives should have turned out. This was not the plan. This is not how this was supposed to happen.

Missing my mom comes in waves.

Today, I'm drowning.