Author's Note: Hola! Gallia est provincia. C'est la vie. Ho appena deciso di parlare in Italiano oggi. Ou peut-etre Francais. Eller maske Dansk (selvom jeg sur pa dig, det er for dig, AL: du er den eneste Danske person, jeg kender). Nur ein Scherz, Ich bin in Deutsch sprechen. Most beszeleck magyarul! Tranductor Google es terrible.

Day Six: Singin' My Soul by Gin Wigmore

She held the little girl as she cried all throughout the funeral. Still, she had to be stronger. She had to be there, not just for her, but for him, too. It's what he would've wanted, for her to be strong as she always was.

"Mommy, why did he have to go?" she choked out.

"I don't know. But you have to be strong, okay? He wouldn't have wanted this."

She heard the wind whistling throughout the woods, almost playing a melody of sorts. His melody. That was him. He was still there. He was still singing to her even though his body was long gone.

And that's what she told herself every night to make it through.

"Mommy?"

She looked up to see a little girl with bright blue eyes standing in the doorway, soft yellow rays from the sun peeking in around her silhouette. Her dark blonde hair was illuminated by the sun.

The young girl walked to her bedside, sitting down next to her and wrapping her small arms around her mother. "Am I ever going to see him again?"

She nodded, fighting back tears as she heard her daughter's voice crack. "One day, you will. You will," she repeated.

"Can I sleep in here tonight?"

And she could no longer keep the tears from falling freely down her face. "Yes," she said through her shaky sobs.

And she says it because even though she's had to deal with the grief and pain for the last week, she's still lonely whenever she lay in bed and he's not there, next to her. Maybe if she has a piece of him beside her, she'll stop seeing him everywhere he turns.

She has her best friend and his best friend right next to her. She holds her hand as the man in charge of the safety deposit box room allows them in.

They gingerly open the box he had kept—1106.

She saw a few things, some which she recognized, others which she didn't. Among some of the recognized items was a pair of cufflinks he wore to their wedding, along with a copy of their daughter's birth certificate.

She knew there was a reason she had avoided looking at this for the first month after his death.

Finally, at the bottom of the box was something addressed to her. It was a white CD with her name on it.

"Do you think he knew you'd find it?"

She thought about that as she ran her hands over the case containing the CD.

She held her breath as her friend put in the CD for her.

As soon as the recording began, she almost wished she hadn't heard. Of course, this was for her. It was his voice, just as she remembered, and just as she heard every night in her dreams.

The song was one she had only heard bits and pieces of, which he would never allow her to listen to. She usually eavesdropped as he played. She heard the song and its melody change gradually over time, meaning it was a song he was writing.

She just never expected it would be for her.

Suddenly, she felt a bitterness fill her venomously. If only he could be here now and she could tell him how she loved this song and how much she loved him.

She began crying into her best friend's arms, thinking only of him and what he thought of this now. She wondered if he was still looking down on her.

All her life, she never really believed in God, nor was she entirely convinced about heaven and hell. But ever since his death, she began to believe. This was for the sole reason of knowing that he was an angel who had finally gotten his wings. If there was a heaven, he was certainly there.

Another reason for her sudden belief in heaven? It was where she would finally see him again.

She had waited for what felt like so long. She had waited and held out until their daughter was grown and could survive on her own, without her mother.

Now, as she looked out the window at the sun shining brightly on her, she knew it was time to go.

She prayed for a fast, easy death. The sooner she got to see him, the better. But she still had to say goodbye to the one person she had left in the world.

"Hi, Mom."

She turned to see a dirty blonde sitting at her bedside. She looked gentle, at peace, but it was clear that she had been crying. She'd known for quite some time her mother was slipping. But at least now, she could have peace that her parents would be together.

"Hi," the brunette lying down in the hospital bed responded weakly.

"I wanted to see you again…before…"

She sighed. "At least you get to say goodbye," she explained.

Slowly, the blonde shook her head. "No…no. I have to see you like this, and that hurts a lot more. At least with Dad, I can cling onto those happy memories, but with you…this is how I'm going to remember you. And I don't want that, Mom. But I have to deal with it." She took a moment to steady her thoughts. "Just because you'll both be gone doesn't mean that I get to stop being a daughter. I have to keep on being a daughter even though I don't have a mom or a dad," she said before wrapping her arms around her mom, wanting to cling to that one moment.

"Don't cry, don't cry," her mother soothed.

"How can I not cry? This is the last time I'll be seeing you and…then…that's it," she said.

"I know."

Her mother thought for a moment before she reached over into the bedside table. She shuffled through things that no longer had any value until she reached the thing she treasured the most. It was the CD. She handed it to her daughter.

"I wanted the nurse to play it for me before I died, but…I think you need this more. Just remember that…this isn't goodbye. It's just 'Until we meet again,'" her mom reminded her.

Through her tears, the blonde nodded.

And that night, as the winds died down, she met her guardian angel again.

Ek sal praat in Engels vir die volgende artikel word net:

Spobyforever259: That's the wrong "your," Sweetie. I actually added in a lot of bits of me. I tried to picture this story as if my own parents were Spencer and Toby. And I wasn't making up that part about kids in front of my locker: it actually happens. A lot, actually. The girl with the locker right next to mine has a boyfriend and they LOVE PDA. They're cute and all but...get a room, maybe? And nope, I don't do One Direction, or Justin Bieber, or Nicki Minaj. I don't go that way; it's not my cup of tea. Not into that kind of pop. One Direction's songs are also so sugar coated that, to quote Adam Buckley, I will get diabetes.

Girlz-Rule: Thanks.

eveningshades1107: I don't know why, but every time I try to type your name, I reflexively begin writing "Everything Has Changed". Anyway, there was a lot to like about the last one shot. And I don't know, you tell me if this was sad. I was ready to start crying, but I don't cry over fanfiction. I cry over sappy, emotional movies. If you listen to the song by Gin Wigmore, it's not exactly a super-happy song. And please, finish that threat.

AL3110: As aforementioned, I'm still mad at you.

Guest: Oops! Did I mess with your feels?

Guest17: Wow, that's scary! I'm sorry! I hope you're okay! And don't mind the French. I have a bunch of viewers from other countries and I know a lot of people personally who can't spell. Don't worry, you spelt more than some of the American, unilingual classmates I have.

Acum vorbesc in limba Romana. Este destul de o limba romanica frumoasa. Limbi romanice sunt cele mai bune. Spaniola, franceza, latina, italiana si romana sunt prietenii mei.

Deinde fabulae erit: I Dreamed a Dream ex Les Miserables (id Galli for "miser").

Per viam: Kayson est puella rabida. -Kayson, puella rabida