Bahhh! Sorry for the long wait guys! At first I admit I had a writer's block that I had trouble conquering and when I finally did recover my muse, my power went out. At first this was a good thing because I could write this story without the distraction of the internet, but then my computer finally died and I could not charge it without power. Well, here it is finally! I will say that this is most likely the most depressing chapter of the series. It had to happen, but thankfully it's all up from here. I hope you guys still enjoy it.

Lots of thanks to agleekinfreakin girl, mumimeanjudi, Hazins, and Gunther 123 for your lovely reviews on the previous chapter. As always you guys are the reason I write this.

Warning: A little bit of foul language.

Kurt was eight and a half when his mother died.

It happened in such a blur. The Doctor's had given us her death sentence months ago and I saw her deteriorate in my own eyes but apparently a large part of me never actually expected her to actually leave.

Time of death 7:22 AM.

I stood at the back of the hospital room at a loss of what to do. After years of having Lisa in and out of the hospital I was used to the policy of standing in the back and let the doctors to their thing to save my wife, but I had never witnessed them not succeeding at what I depended on them to do. Linda's vitals would always get stronger, or restart again, and the doctor would wipe the sweat off of his forehead, tell me things I would need to look out for and remind me to page me if anything changed. He never just stopped, let my wife's precious heart stop beating and look with me with those pitiful eyes.

His hand felt distant on my shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Burt."

But this was just a dream. Linda's prognosis and vital stats all said the same thing and that Linda's death was going to occur but it was never supped to actually happen. This stuff happened in Lifetime movies, in the news, to other people's families, or in episodes of Oprah when I would pretend I wasn't crying but actually was.

"Burt?"

"I...uhh... I'm here." I knew that was not the appropriate thing to say but it was the only thing that came to my head at the time.

The doctor's- what was his name again? - face clouded with sympathy. "Do you need to sit down?"

No, I did not need to sit down. I needed to not see my dead wife on a hospital bed being disconnected from machines that were previously keeping her alive. I needed my wife back. I needed my son to have his mother back.

Oh yeah... Kurt.

I closed my eyes and just tried to breathe. That's what people did they were trying not to hyperventilate right?

"I- umm..." Was this raspy voice really mine? "I should... talk to my son. I should talk to Kurt."

The doctor nodded and finally took his damn hand off of my shoulder. "Please let us know if you need anything."

I gave a curt nod, did my best to put one foot in front of the other, and as I walked out of the Hospital doors I knew I was walking into a world which Linda was not a part of anymore. I was not sure if I was ready.

O-O-O-O-O-O

With a trembling hand I managed to insert my key into the keyhole. I don't know how I managed to drive home- God knows my attention was elsewhere- but I made it home alive. At least I was one parent Kurt still had alive.

I couldn't help but notice that the voice in my head sounded quite bitter over that fact that it was me and not her.

I made my way up the stairs, not bothering to take off my jacket and shoes, and I heard Linda's voice saying in her one of a kind tone, Are you aware of the mess you are making to my clean floors? But the floors were not clean. Linda had been too sick to be neat freak that she usually was and my first thought in all this mess was not to clean the fucking floor or the stairs. Of course, it occurred to me that Linda would never nag about the floor or be all OCD about cleaning them again. I kicked off my shoes and threw them off the stair case where they hit the door.

Thud. Thud.

I finally got to the top of the staircase and I found my way to Kurt's closed door. It was a bit passed Eight AM and it was a Sunday so Kurt wouldn't be up for at least another half-hour. Should I wake him up and tell him the news? I had thought, Or should I let him sleep a bit longer? Let him have happiness a bit longer everything he knew changes?

I actually didn't have to make that decision because I heard soft walking sounds coming from Kurt's bedroom. I opened the door, and sure enough Kurt was walking around his room, all dressed for the day. He looked surprised to see me.

"Hey dad," He made his way to his bed and sat down.

I made a few tiny steps into his bedroom and croaked out, "Hey." To my dismay, the same raspy voice from the hospital was still present.

Kurt seemed to had noticed. Kurt frowned in a way that scrunched his whole little face together. "You're home earlier than you said you'd be."

Not really able to find a reply, I just said, "You're up early."

Kurt shrugged and muttered, "Couldn't really sleep."
"Wait-"I looked around the room stupidly, "Where is Mrs. Baker?"

"Downstairs- She fell asleep on the couch."

I chewed the inside of my mouth. I probably should had sent her home first... Mrs. Baker had been a huge help to the family and she had her own children to look after... I was surprised she didn't wake up after the whole shoe debacle.

"Daddy... are you alright?" I looked back at him. Kurt looked back at me with his eyes wide and filled with concern. A little after Kurt had turned seven, he convinced himself he was too old to call me 'Daddy" so from then on I was just called 'Dad.' I must had really looked like shit.

Not getting a reply, Kurt just continued. "Your face is all white and you have baggies under your eyes."

"Kurt, I umm..." I swallowed thickly. "We- We need to talk." My raspy voice finally gave up and just croaked on the last word.

Kurt, being a child and not aware that is a sentence usually heard when facing a break-up, put two and two together immediately. He looked at me, his eyes wider for a second and his mouth in a silent 'O' shape, but then closed it and then brought his chin to his knees. "You don't have to say it."

Not knowing what else to say, Linda was the one who was the master of words, I just made my way forward to his bed and sat down. My hand found his shoulder, and I was thankful he didn't push it away. What the hell do you say to her kid when his mom dies? I just wanted a manual or a pamphlet that told me everything I needed to say or do to make this right. Why wasn't there a "Talking your son after their mother croaks for Dummies?"

Thinking of what I had heard in those damn Lifetime movies, I whispered, "She is not in any pain anymore. She is at peace."

Kurt didn't say anything, what do you say to that? So we just sat there and fought our grief in silence. It was one of the few times I found Kurt was like me.

O-O-O-O-O

Eventually I sent Mrs. Baker on her way. She was very sympathetic and offered to bake us a casserole but what got to me was when she said she would help with the funeral.

Oh yeah.

Apparently it was not enough to just live after your wife dies, or be a single father and help him through all this crap: You need to plan a party to bury your wife. Just fucking excellent.
Though, to Mrs. Baker's credit, she stayed true to her word. She helped make phone calls I didn't want to make and got other people helping as well. Soon Kurt and I were stuffing god knows how many unknown dishes into our fridge and freezer and more and more people came by offering to help.

It turns out I didn't have to do much. I picked out Linda's favourite flowers which would be placed around the room and her casket and I sent the funeral home the dress she had wore in one our family photos. There were other tedious things, but they happened in such a blur I wouldn't be able to remember if I tried.

Eventually the funeral took place. Me and Kurt were dressed in our best suits and the beginning was basically saying thank you to a bunch of people who came to offer their sympathy. There were a few I knew, a bunch I didn't, but Linda touched a whole bunch of people so I wasn't too bugged by that.

One thing that was bothering me was Kurt. He was being well behaved, said the right things when people offered sympathy and didn't even say anything when people pinched his cheeks and told him how cute he was.

But that was the thing... Kurt was not saying much of anything. Kurt's not a kid to hold his emotions, at least not at home. When Kurt's upset he would scream, cry-most would happen when I put some of his precious clothes in the dryer when they weren't supposed to be dried in there. But his mom had just died and there was not as much of a tear from the kid. He kept himself in his room a lot, but when I came to check on him he was usually just playing on the keyboard Linda and I got him when she got sick. (Something needed to distract the poor kid.)

The night before the funeral, I was washing the plates that were dirty with pepperoni from the pizza we had just ordered and Kurt cleaning off some of the junk off the table. Getting frustrated with all the silence, I just blurted out, "You can cry, you know."
Probably not the right thing you can say to a grieving kid –I really needed that Dummy book-but Kurt just paused for a second and spoke softly "I know."

And that was that.

Eventually every made their way to where Linda would be put to rest. I sort of went through the motions like I was in a haze. Like the person they were about to bury was not my wife.

A few words were said, words I would not be able to remember at the moment, and then she made her way down.

Down, Down, Down.

It was a small noise that brought me back to reality.
I looked to my left and there was Kurt with his eyes red and puffy and silent tears rolling down his cheeks. He had his hand slightly over his mouth as if trying to hide the little sobs he was making that sounded more like hiccups.

Hiccup, Hiccup.

Only my son could bring me back to a reality I didn't really want to be in.

A life without Linda will be harsh and painful. It will be dark and Lord knows I don't but have a map to find my way. But I was all Kurt had. Linda was the miracle parent; she was the one who knew all of the answers and in a cruel twist of fate I was the parent that stayed.

But I needed to suck it up. Things were going to be completely shitty, but there was a kid that needed me to plow through the crap and be there for him. Not knowing what else to do, wishing I just had a bit of Linda's magic with Kurt, I took his hand.

Kurt stopped crying for a moment and just turned his head to look at the hand holding his. His breath caught for a moment, his eyes filling with more tears, and then he began sobbing harder. He cried, and cried, and cried. People were beginning to stare, but I just squeezed his hand harder.

And then it was over. Soon the grave site started to empty out and we would have to leave. Kurt kept his death grip on my hand sending the clear message, Please do not let go, so I didn't. For the rest of the day and night our hands stayed clamped together. For maybe a few minutes Kurt would go off to the washroom or grab one of the snacks available and then come back to put his hand in my palm which I of course left open.

O-O-O-O

After a very long day we made our way home. I drove silently and Kurt sat in the front. It was the first time since the grave site that we didn't have our hands together.

"Would you like some music?"

Taking that as a yes, Kurt dug through the glove compartment and picked out a CD. Sure enough, it was The Sound of Music soundtrack. "Do you mind if we play this?"

"Course' not" I ruffed out.

Kurt popped the CD in and My Favorite Things began to play.

My eyes burned a little.

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woollen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things

Kurt actually smiled a little. "Mom liked this one."

My hand gripped harder on the wheel. "She did." I was very displeased that my raspy voice had returned.

Cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudels
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things

"It's okay to cry, you know."

My previous words to Kurt used towards me got me startled. I looked at him and he looked at me

Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes
Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes
Silver white winters that melt into springs
These are a few of my favorite things

I gave him a smile and that or had not been genuine. "I know."

Confident that I could drive the five minute drive to home safely with one hand on the wheel, I laid out my hand to Kurt and he grabbed it.

Maybe I needed Kurt just as much as he needed me.

When the dog bites
When the bee stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad

I promise next chapter will be lighter. I can't guarantee Kurt and Burt will be up dancing under the circumstances but it is lighter than the previous two chapters. Hope to see you all there! xoxo