Chapter 8
The day of her mother's funeral dawned cold and cloudy. Erica stared at the calendar. December 23, only a few days before Christmas. She didn't know if she could handle Christmas without her mom. It was always their tradition to set up the Christmas tree on this day. Probably because it was her mom's birthday. They would get up early, (unless Erica had school, then they would do it after that) and they would go down to the basement and drag everything up the stairs to the living room. Then they would spend the next two hours decorating the whole house with stuff.
Mom, I wish you could be here. And I wish you would tell me who killed you, she thought to herself. The tears started to come sliding down, but she stopped them quickly.
I don't want my Mascara to run (yet) and I have to leave right about now. So, I can't cry yet.
When she got to the burial site, it had already started to snow. She usually loved snow, but today she didn't feel any other emotions besides sadness. She was about halfway there when she felt someone tap her shoulder. She turned around, and was startled to see her father standing there.
"I wasn't expecting you to be here, since it was so long since you met my mom."
"I'm not here for your mom, I'm here because you're here. I'm your dad, it's my job."
Erica was quite moved by this statement, since she had never really had a good father figure. All she could do was hug him. When she let go, there were many long black streaks running down her face. Bobby pulled a (clean) tissue out of his coat pocket and gave it to her.
"You're not supposed to wear mascara to a funeral, you know," he said, trying to lighten the mood. Erica giggled in spite of herself.
"Thanks. I guess I'm not up on the whole funeral scene."
"That's ok, I'm not that up on it either. C'mon, let's go, they're starting."
After the first few speakers, it was Erica's turn. She stood up, and took a deep breath.
"My mom was a wonderful person. She was caring, and loving, even when she was fried to the bone at work. She attended every recital and show I was ever in, and worked two jobs before she married my Step-dad." She scanned the area for him, like she had done since he had been her new dad. But he never came. He was there a few times, but mostly, he was at work. Just like now. He was so busy that he couldn't even come to his wife's funeral. He was probably with a woman, either in his office, or in Canada. He never even came home anymore. Erica couldn't keep track of him. He could be in prison for all she knew. She hesitated, almost ready to cry. Then she caught sight of James and Bobby in the back of the chairs that were set up near the grave. They were standing, and smiling. This gave her an extra burst of stamina to keep speaking. She continued,
"She had tried her hardest to give me the best, even when that was impossible. She was always telling me that I could be whatever I wanted when I grew up." Her voice was wavering by this time.
She was the best mom anyone could ever have, and she didn't deserve this. I loved her, and I always will!" She started crying and quickly walked back to where James and her dad were standing. When she got there, they both hugged her, and told her what a great job she did. All she could do was collapse into James' shoulder and sob. He patted her head and they both reassured her that the world would be ok.