She stood at the mirror quietly, not really looking at herself but making sure there were no wrinkles in the dark gray dress. She had no interest in how she looked, not really, but she wanted to be able to hold her head up and make her dad proud. She wouldn't be able to do that in a wrinkled dress or with a run in her nylons. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she chewed on her bottom lip and chanced a glance at her face, hoping the bloodshot eyes would go away before she had to go into public. She could cry in private, she could cry with Adam, but she needed to be strong for her mother, for the kids, and she needed to prove to herself that this wasn't going to send her spiraling down in to a dark place. Her dad wouldn't want that, and letting herself go there would dishonor the memory of the wonderful life that her father had lived, the wonderful lives he'd passed on to his children.

"Hey babe," Adam said from the doorway, his tie cinched up slightly more than normal. "Breakfast is ready. I knocked on your moms door but I didn't hear anything."

"I'll go get her. How are the kids?"

He cracked a small smile.

"They're okay. Ben tried to do Avery's hair so I could finish breakfast. It's uh… well, I don't think it matters much, but you might need to do a little adjusting."

"I'll be down in a bit. Do I… do you think this is okay?"

She was referring to the dress, but the tone of her voice alerted him to more and he crossed the room to her, drawing her into his arms and letting her settle under his chin.

"More than okay. You're amazing."

"I miss him."

"I know."

"It's so weird being here without him. I still… I still see him everywhere, you know? I woke up at four this morning and I was halfway out the door to help him in the barn before I remembered. And in some ways, I want that to stop. I want to not have to go through that moment of remembering that he's gone. But at the same time… I don't know, I guess I like having that there, knowing that he's still such a part of me. Always will be."

He smiled and dropped a kiss to the top of her head.

"You and your brothers, you're way too much like your dad for anyone to ever forget him, to not know exactly who he was."

"Thank you. That's… I really needed that."

"You're welcome. Go get your mom, I'll start the coffee."

She leaned up and kissed him in gratitude, not just for the food preparations, but for the way he'd just simply been there to lean on, to bring a smile or an encouraging word when she needed it. He'd taken care of a lot around the house, had helped the kids to work through their grief, and had been so understanding with her mom. He'd kept them afloat the last two days and she had no idea what she would do without him.

They parted ways and he moved downstairs to the kitchen while she crossed the hallway to knock on her moms door.

"Mama, can I come in?"

She didn't wait for an answer, but pushed the door open anyway, finding her normally put together mother half-dressed and laying on the bed, quiet tears running down her cheeks. She gulped back tears of her own and climbed onto the bed as well, encouraging her mother to at least sit up.

They remained in silence for long minutes, neither one sure what to say, much less that there was anything useful at the moment. It was healing, in a small way, to acknowledge that they were grieving together, that no one had to be the stronger person right now. No one had to be anything, really. They just were.

"You won't be alone, mama," Lindsay assured after a while, taking her hand. "You know that, right? I have to… I have to go back home, but there are phone calls, and the boys will be here every day. You have all the grandkids and the great-grandkids and I know that doesn't bring daddy back or make it hurt less, but whenever you want or need someone, they'll be here."

"I know. Your dad left me with a lot of help, didn't he?"

"He did," Lindsay said with a teary smile. "He loved you so much. You made his life better. You know one of the last things he said to me? He said "You make sure your mama doesn't cause a ruckus." And he had that twinkle in his eye, the one he always got when he looked at you. You made him so happy, mama. I know it wasn't always easy or good, but the way you loved each other… if it weren't for that, I don't know where I would be today. I don't know if Adam and I would have made it if we didn't have your example to look at."

Anne remained quiet, leaning her head on her daughter's shoulder.

"I think your dad would be so happy to hear that. He loved you so much, Lindsay. Always wanted you to be happy."

"I am happy, mama. Maybe not today, and maybe not again for a while, but I'm okay. He never has to worry."

"I don't know if I can do this today, Lindsay. I never wanted to have to say goodbye."

"I don't either. But we're not saying that. Not really. He's still here. He'll never go away."

"You have his way with words."

"I do?"

"Always have, baby girl."

They remained in silence for a few moments before Lindsay gave her moms hand a squeeze.

"Adam made breakfast and I'm sure the kids want to see you," she started. "Are you ready to come down?"

"I need to get dressed."

"Do that. I'll see you down there. I love you."

"I love you too."

Lindsay slid off of the bed and out of the room, taking a few minutes to breathe before making her way downstairs. The kids were already at the table dressed in their nice clothes and making quiet conversation, all three greeting her when she stepped into the room.

"What do you think of sissy's hair?" Ben asked, wiping milk off of his chin. "I don't think I did it as good as you do."

"It looks alright," Lindsay assured, reaching over to fix it a little. "Thank you for helping."

"You're welcome."

She sat down at the table and tried to eat, but everything tasted funny, even the coffee didn't have its normal soothing effect. Eventually she gave up, losing herself in conversation with the kids until her mother came down to join them.

"Hey granna, I remembered a funny story," Avery said with a smile. "Remember last summer when we were here and I caught that mouse?"

"Yes, I do."

"And I was holding him and loving him and then your cat jumped off the woodpile and onto my head and the mouse got away? Remember how much papa laughed until he was crying? I like to remember that because he was so happy then, even if I did get scratched up on my head."

"He loved having you kids here. He said it made him feel young and old at the same time."

"That's very good. That we brought him joy, you know. He's the best papa ever."

"Yes, he is."

The graveside service had ended just as a light sprinkle of almost-snow began to fall, and though chilly, Lindsay couldn't pull herself away from this place. She stood staring out at the expanse of old graves and winter grass, hating that so many defining moments in her life were wrapped up into this place. Her first clear memory was of her grandfathers memorial service when she was no more than three years old. The countless times she'd visited since that night in the diner, the night that had so fundamentally changed her as a person. Now this, the very marked point of parental loss. Nothing good in her life could ever be overshadowed by these sorrows, but at times it struck her hard and she needed to dwell solidly in it, give herself to the memories for a moment.

She wanted to walk the path down to the big tree, visit the girls and bring some completion to the day, but she had no emotional energy for such a thing, and had to force herself to even move down the hill to join her family at the car.

"You okay mama?" Colton asked as she secured her seatbelt.

"I'm alright buddy."

"It was really nice to hear stories about papa from all those people," Ben noted. "I didn't know that he was in the rodeo when he was my age."

"And I didn't know that he liked to draw!" Avery added happily. "That was a surprise. Did you know that about him mama?"

"I knew that he enjoyed it when he was in school but I didn't know that he was so good at it. He used to draw comics for us kids when we were little though."

"Do you still have any?"

"I think there's some in my scrapbook."

"I'd love to see those," Colton smiled, reaching up to squeeze her shoulder.

"Me too," Ben agreed as Avery leaned against him. "This is really sad and I miss papa but I'm glad he was such a good man, and that there are so many memories about him, you know? I'm sure some families don't have that and we're lucky, right?"

"Yes," Avery nodded solemnly. "Sarah told me about a lovely quote when we talked last night. It says that God gave us memories so we could have roses in December. I really like that idea. That when things aren't so great we have good memories to make it better."

"That's right," Adam said, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. "And even these sad memories can help us later. It reminds us that no matter what, we have each other."

They fell into silence and Lindsay reached over for Adam's hand, her eyes full of tears, some out of sadness and some borne out of love for her family.

"Thank you," she whispered, whisking away a tear with her free hand.

"You're welcome."

They made it back to the house just as most of the rest of her family arrived, everyone carrying some food to help out with lunch. They hadn't wanted a wake; a memorial service and a graveside were enough for friends to pay their respects. It was time for them to mourn and remember in privacy.

Avery was uncomfortable with all of the people inside and slipped out the back door, heading for the barn. She liked it in there, the quiet and the smell, though it wasn't always a pleasant one. Her feet crunched against the straw and she pushed the door open, stopping to look around at the animals. Everything felt better in here, like it all made sense. She wandered around from stall to stall, refilling water from the container in the corner until all the animals had enough, then sat down on a hay bale and made a clucking noise at the cat, who wandered over curiously, jumping up next to her.

"I forgive you for jumping on my head," she said after a moment, petting the cat affectionately. "I really wish my dog Thomas was here. She always makes me feel better. She listens. I know it's dumb, and I know animals can't really understand me, but I think she knows when I am happy or sad. I think you do too, a little."

Tears slid down her cheeks and she sighed, trying to wipe them away.

"I really don't want to cry in front of my mama. It breaks her heart when us kids cry and she doesn't need more of a broken heart right now. And I wish Austin was here because I could cry to her and it wouldn't hurt her the same way it hurts mama. But she's not. So cat, I hope you will be nice enough to sit with me while I get this all out of me."

The cat seemed to settle and Avery let the tears flow, crying her heart out for several minutes. She'd done a lot of that over the last few days, but today the ache was at the forefront of her mind and she knew that holding in the tears forever wasn't good. It wasn't until she'd slowed down and began to sniffle that she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Hi Coley."

"Hey Aves. You alright?"

She nodded and wiped at her nose with the back of her hand.

"Dad sent me to come find you. Mama wants you to eat some lunch."

"Okay."

She stood up and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly as she finished up her crying.

"I just want to go home," she sighed as he patted her back.

"I know. I do too. And we will, in the morning. Think you can do it until then?"

"Yeah I can."

He crouched down in front of her smoothed his thumbs under her eyes to remove the tears before he leaned in and kissed her forehead.

"It's okay to hurt, Aves. I promise."

"I know. I just want to protect mama."

"Me too. But hey, you can cry to me sometimes, you know. I'm the big brother after all."

"That's true. But who will you cry to?"

He grinned and ignored the question, slinging his arm around her shoulders and leading her inside.

"It'll be okay, Aves," he assured as he closed the door behind him. "You let me know if it's not."

"Alright, I will."

They joined Lindsay on the couch and Avery climbed up into her lap, even though she was getting much too big for such things.

"It's going to be okay, mama," she whispered. "We all have each other. Everything will be okay."