A/N: Warning. This is for you all, but especially to my dear rg521. You asked me long time ago to let you know when the death would be addressed, well here it is.

I understand if any of you are triggered by this and don't really want to read it through (even if I would, to understand the situation at whole), but I recommend you to read at least the beginning to get a hold of it, and then the last few lines. You may find it interesting ;)

Thank you all for all the kind words you always offer me. You all are amazing

16. PRESENT DAY

One week later, you are back at Dr. Berry's office. You are still a wreck. You never took upon the idea of grieving your wife alone, because your kids are so broken that you feel the need to be with them and to stay strong to make the struggle easier for them. But that means you have stopped taking care of yourself. You have barely eaten anything, or slept. Your body is basically functioning on a coffee and anxiety streak.

As you are sitting down in the waiting room you notice your right hand is shaking and it feels like a horrid flashback. You suddenly remember how her hands shook during the couple of weeks prior to the incident. If only you had paid more attention. You should have known.

A couple tears escape your eyes as Rachel Berry opens the door to her office.

"Mrs. Lop-oh..." she stops mid sentence as she notices you are crying. "Come in, come in." She ushers and you quietly do so. "Are you okay?" She asks once you are both inside and the door is closed.

You shrug as you sit on the same couch you did last time, and you dry your eyes with the back of your hands. You close your eyes for a second and take a couple deep breaths to calm down.

"Sorry. I just had a moment." You say quietly as you open your eyes again. Rachel is sitting in front of you comfortably, just letting yourself gather your bearings. You don't know what it is about her, but she has the ability to calm you down, and you appreciate that.

"It's perfectly fine, don't worry." She answers and offers you a kind smile that you reciprocate. "How are you doing?" She asks

"Not good, but I'm surviving." You answer truthfully and she nods softly.

"I know this is a very rough time for you." She muses softly as your eyes fix somewhere on the carpet. "But we need to talk about what happened. It's not good for you to bottle up all this feelings." She adds.

"Why would I deserve to get better?" You say with a scoff, sudden anger waving all over you. Dr. Berry doesn't flinch, though. She stoically receives all your wrath. "Why me? I should have known. I should have paid more attention. I've been with her for twenty fucking years. I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN!" You end up yelling as your eyes fill with tears again and your whole body trembles.

"What should you have known?" She asks calmly.

"THAT SHE WOULD TAKE HER OWN LIFE!" You scream before crumbling into a messy cry.

You know what's going on. You have been close to enough therapists long enough to know this is the second state of grieving, which means you are finally starting to move on. You are not sure you want to move on, though. Moving on feels like forgetting about her, and there is no way you are going to do that.

Rachel lets you cry for a moment. She doesn't say anything but she offers you some tissues to dry your tears whenever you feel like it. When you have calmed down a little bit, she talks again.

"It was not your job to know." She states and you look at her with a very angry scowl on your face.

"After twenty years, of course it was. I should have noticed something was wrong. In all honesty, looking back now I know there were a lot of signals, so I should have fucking paid more attention." You rant, holding your right hand with your left one and massaging the muscles to relax it because it's trembling again. You know Rachel noticed and you are sure she made mental note of it.

"Hiding a depression is more common than you think. If she didn't want you to know, you wouldn't have known anyway, even if it was presented to you on a silver platter." She explains keeping her calm demeanour. You don't know how she does that, or any therapist for that matter. Take every single emotion every patient feels and throws at you without any reaction must be hard. You wonder how she feels when she gets home after a long day. "How did she take her life?" She asks.

"She..." You start, but you have to swallow hard and breathe deeply again before answering. Verbalising it makes it more real. "She borderline overdosed on opioids and...and she drowned." You say, trying to keep your tears at bay. "They thought it was an accident at first but...they found rocks attached to her body under her clothes..."

You can't talk anymore, it hurts you too much. This is the reason you don't really want to go to the cabin in the woods. You found her there and it will always haunt you.

Rachel gets up from her chair and moves closer to you, putting a supportive hand over your shoulder.

"I know this is hard, but believe me, this is good for you. You need to let it out." She says softly and you nod. You know deep inside of you that she is right. "You need to let her go." She adds and you don't like that at all.

You shrug her hand off of your shoulder and scoff, but you don't say anything. All the yelling and crying has taken all your energy, for now you don't really know what else there's left to say.

"You have to accept that this isn't your fault." She says, moving back to her chair. "I want you to do an excersize. Every time you get all this feelings again, and believe me, you will, I want you to find a mirror, look at your self and repeat the words 'this is not my fault'." She adds.

All that's left for you to do is to shrug and nod. You are not sure if you will be able to do that at all, but you have learnt to trust other people over the years, you know she means well. And she is a therapist, for God's sake, you know she knows what she is doing.

You are not ready, though. You simply aren't.

Again your hour has flown by and it's time for you to leave. You stand up and not at Rachel as a good bye before walking towards the door. Right before you open it, she calls you by your first name.

"Santana." She says and you turn your head towards her, surprised. "You will be okay."