The following week passed in a blur.

Funeral arrangements were made by Dad and the local native tribe. Mom called in family and friends from across the state, along with her parents from Hawaii and her brother Alejandro Kama from Texas. They flocked to Summerland to give their condolences and to offer their services in our time of need. Our house was filled with people, flowers, food and sobs.

Dad was wiping his eyes every hour while Mom carried tissues with her everywhere she went. Melissa and Johnny took comfort with their partners as I found solitude in my room, only bothering to come out to greet family and friends.

Grandma didn't stop crying once she heard the news, whimpering Grandpa's name even in her sleep. I would hear her from the guestroom next to mine, Dad thought it was best for her not to be alone, but like me, she doesn't want to leave the room.

The paramedic said it was a heart attack "might have been caused by a fright," he said.

A fright, those words repeated in my head over and over as I sat at the three windows of the tower.

What kind of fright? I wondered. Did it have anything to do with Arthur? With Francis or with Matthew? Or did I wish that they had something to do with my grandfather's death just so my guilt would lessen. The memory of Arthur under me as he spat out blood came to me and I shook it away and pulled my knees into my chest. Tears fell as the thought of Grandpa being so close to that awful scene made my stomach ache and my shoulders shake with another guilty sob.

Everyone wore black to the scattering ritual. Grandpa's will wished for his ashes to be released at the beach. The city council gave permission with out complaint, for Grandpa was a big influence in the council.

It was early dawn as the Chen's, Jamie's family floated lotus blossoms on to the surface of the ocean along with Sanjay and his family following in their example. Everyone held a small candle as people made speeches and told stories of John Senior Hawkfeather. The stubborn antics of his youth, the maturity that slowly grew in his middle age as he married the love of his life and raised his son, and the wisdom that he passed on to the young adults in his life.

Towards the end, one of my old tutors, Christopher Walker played on his violin. The music was sad almost as if the song was crying itself. Christopher's dark eyes closed as he swayed along with his music. The wind picked up and blew his brown hair into his face but he didn't stop, only continued in my grandfather's honor.

The song moved me to tears as memories of Grandpa flooded my mind. His smiling face whenever he laid eyes on me. The affection that passed through his eyes whenever he would ruffle my hair or place his arms around me, and watching the skill of his hands as they carved into wood or weaved blankets and baskets.

My shoulders began to shake, a warning sign for another breakdown.

A hand slid on to my back and I turned to find Michel offering a sad smile as he pulled me into his embrace. His arms wrapped around my back, comforting me as I wept in the nook of his neck.

When the ceremony ended in late morning; Dad, Mom, Grandma and I came back home to mourn in private. Dad went to check on the horses and clean the stables; he found work was the best way to deal with a passing. While the ladies of the house just wanted to crawl into bed and never leave its warm embrace.

I was walking Grandma up the stairs when she said, "I have something to give to you, from your grandfather."

I nodded and remained silent as she stepped inside her room and came back out with a homemade DVD. "Watch this," Grandma sighed as she placed it in my hand, "It will explain everything."

I must have given a questionable gaze because once she gave me the DVD she retreats into her room and shuts the door behind her.

In the corner of my room there was a small plasma screen TV usually used to watch dramas and movies with friends, but truthfully I haven't touched it since Grandpa died. It stood on a medium sized book shelve where I placed books, movies and photos albums. The TV had a built in DVD player so all I had to do was push the DVD into its side and command, "play."

The TV analyzed the DVD and in less than a minute Grandpa's face displayed on its screen. My eyebrows rose in surprise but before I could think of anything else, he spoke.

"Amy, if you're watching this," he began, "I didn't live to your eighteenth birthday and I wasn't able tell you this in person, and for that I am sorry."

I shook my head, "You have nothing to be sorry for," I whispered.

I watched as he breathed in, his face becoming serious, "Amy, what I'm about to say is shocking, so it would be best for you to sit down."

I was still standing in front of the screen, a part of me knew it was best to sit but being stubborn I refused.

"I knew your biological father. His name was Alfred F. Jones and he wasn't an ordinary man, he was national personification, the spirit of America." He paused, then, "And now, you have taken his place." Another pause, "Amy, you're a country. You're America."

I lost the feeling in my legs as my knees crashed into the wooden floors. My eyes left the screen to stare at the ground. Arthur's words once again repeating: We're nations, countries if you will.

No . . .

Yes, we believe we're spirits, taking a physical form to represent our people, our culture-

Shut up . . .

Grandpa continued, "I know it must be overwhelming or at least insane to think that you're spirit. But you are-"

Shut up . . .

"A living spirit that binds itself to Earth to be a guardian for their people; will that's what Alfred and I believed-"

"Shut up," I finally voiced but it came out more as a whisper.

"You must have noticed you're remarkable healing abilities. How you would become ill every time the economic was in trouble or when there was a government shutdown-"

"Shut up," I hissed as tears fell down my cheeks.

"I remember, you would cry whenever a national disaster took place, like hurricane Katrina or the Quake. Of course you lived through that disaster but still you cried and asked me why you couldn't stop."

"Shut. Up." I said through gritted teeth.

"Then there were the shootings that took place all over the country, but you cried the hardest for the elementary school in the north. I remembered your teacher sent you home because you broke down in the middle of class."

"Shut up!" I yelled till I started to cry, "Stop, just stop!" Then I finally released that the only way for the DVD to stop was to say, "Pause!"

The screen froze along with my grandfather's confession.

I stared at Grandpa's face with teary vision till that stare became a glare. Then I lifted my fist, wanting more than anything to crush that screen into pieces, but instead my fist settled for the floor. It was soft pats at first till they grew more powerful and aggressive. I screamed out every curse I knew as my fist made contact to the floor. During this, memories of my childhood displayed the truth; when I was four, hurricane Katrina stormed through and I would wake in the middle of the night to bawl my eyes out for the people affected by the storm. Then at six I was bed ridden with a strange illness that lasted for a year and a half, during the time of the Recession. Then at eleven, I heard the voices of children screaming in fear. My emotions ran high that day as I felt my heart squeeze inside my chest and I began to sob in front of my classmates and teacher.

That's how I felt now; my heart squeezing till I almost thought it would burst. I lost strength the more I punched the floor, becoming soft pats once again.

I slumped, my forehead connecting to the floor as my tears came to a stop. I no longer had the strength to even cry. I turned my head to the side to look at my hand. It was bruised black and blue with split tears in the knuckles, the blood dripped from my fingertips till it stopped. I watched with widened eyes as the splits of skin fused back together and the bruises faded. My body was repairing the broken blood vessels and the torn skin in rapid speed, right before my eyes.

If I needed a final example; a good slap to the face that screamed, this is who you are deal with it.

Then that was it.

After my tantrum I decided that it was time to put on my big girl panties and allow my grandfather to finish his confession. "Play," I said calmly.

Grandpa sighed and gave a sad smile, "I'm sure you're wondering how I met your father. Well in truth I met him several times throughout my life. When I was young man traveling in the pow wows to educate people of Native American culture, he was there. Usually watching our people dance or looking through the art we featured for locals to buy. Of course through the years I noticed that he didn't age and I confronted him."

Grandpa smiled at the memory, "He took me out to dinner at a local Denny's and asked if I could keep a secret. He didn't wait for my answer, instead he just cuts himself with his stack knife and I watched no doubt in terror as it healed right before my eyes."

Grandpa shook his head, "He was reckless fool but he had. . . I wouldn't call it good judgment in a person's character, more like luck in picking people. For I told no one I met a country," he let out a snort, "who would believe me?"

I smirked and he continued, "We stayed in contact with one another as the years went by. I even invited him to my wedding and I showed photographs of my son and grandchildren." His eyes grew sad then, "The moment Alfred saw those photos his eyes and body language would show his true age. His smile was no longer childish but sad, almost like an elderly man with regrets."

Grandpa sighed, "He wanted a family. Of course he told me of his brothers, Britain and Canada, but more than anything he wanted to settle down and have children." A smile appeared on his lips, "He even showed me ring he wanted to give to this girl, she was country too but . . . Shit. I forgot the name. Curse my old age," he grumbled.

He sighed again, "This family talk was in the late 90's almost reaching the twenty-first century." He stopped, blinking back tears. "When the planes hit the twin towers, Aponi and I were with John and Jessica watching it all on the news in the family room. Jessica was crying along with Aponi and John shedding a few tears. I was worried for Alfred, for he told me when something disastrous happen to the country itself, the national spirit would suffer greatly. I had no way of contacting him, for he always called me." Tears finally fell but he quickly wiped them away.

"When the towers fell. . . I felt a pull of some sort. . . . leading me to the back of the house. I followed this . . . feeling till I came face to face with Alfred.

"He was different; his body shimmered in a golden haze surrounding him in its light. His legs were transparent but yet he was solid above the waist. He held a baby in his arms; he was rocking it to sleep, with a loving smile on his face as he hummed a lullaby. The image was so touching it was best not to disturb, but he saw me and his smile grew sad at the result."

Grandpa breathed through his nose, "Alfred asked me to raise you. That he was going to disappear, just like his mother before him." Grandpa shed more tears, "Oh Amy, he wanted you. It pained him to part with you; if he could, he would have defied all the laws of nature to stay with you. But he had to let you go and he knew that we would love and care for you in his place.

"I asked why he didn't want Arthur to raise you that it would've been better for you to be raised by a country. He simply said, 'I don't want history to repeat.'

"I agreed and took you from his arms; his heart broke when I did. That was the first time I ever saw him really... sob." Grandpa wiped away his tears, "He only had one request; to name you Amy. He always liked that name. He also wanted me to deliver a message to his brothers and his fellow nations. That he was sorry he wasn't strong enough to stay, that he had to leave all of them behind. If I'm not alive to tell them that make sure you do."

Grandpa held back a sob. "He was also sorry for leaving you behind. Believe me when I say this Amy, he wanted so much to be part of your life. But he knew if he tried to stay you would disappear instead."

His face grew serious, "But don't think for a one second I regretted bringing you into my family. I never saw you as country, just a child for me and my family to love."

If I thought I was drained of tears I proved myself wrong, for salty liquid was streaking down my cheeks as he spoke, "Jessica and John loved you the moment they laid eyes on you. Melissa and Johnny cared for you like you truly were their sister and Aponi was thrilled to have another grandchild to spoil. We are your family Amy, no matter what you are or whose blood runs through your veins. We're family and that will never change."

The movie cuts to black as the disk popped out of the DVD player.

I wiped away my tears, grabbed the DVD, placed it back on its case, and slid it between my small movie collection and photo albums below.

I took a deep breath and released, it was like a huge boulder had been lifted off my shoulders, but my body was so sore from that lift that my limbs felt like they would give out any minute. I willed myself to simply stand in front of my bed. Then once I was facing it I dropped; permitting my aching eyes to close and my throbbing head to settle.

Dreamless sleep never felt so good.