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“Can we wait until after the ceremony is held and all the people have left? I don’t think I can face anyone right now.”
I want to be alone when I say goodbye to Papa.
“We’ll do whatever you want, baby.”
It takes thirty minutes before the hearse arrives. Fifteen before the ceremony starts and another thirty before the people leave.
He’s my father, yet the country buried him. Although I understand he was loved by many, I wish I could’ve done this alone.
“Ready?” Max asks. I nod, and he gives the order, “Drive closer, Danil.”
When we stop near the gravesite, we have to wait for all the guards to come to our SUV. Only then am I allowed to climb out of the vehicle.
I understand it’s for my safety, but it means I won’t be alone with Papa.
Max's body is tense as we walk to the fresh grave, and he keeps scanning the area for any possible threats.
We come to a stop, and I’m barely able to look at the coffin.
Papa.
My throat strains, and my eyes burn, but only a single tear rolls down my cheek.
God, I’m going to miss you so much.
I cover my mouth with my hand, and when Max pulls me to his chest, a sob escapes me.
Thank you for the amazing life you’ve given me. I’ve been so blessed to have you as my father. The hole you’ve left in my heart will never mend.
I grab hold of Max’s side to keep myself standing as my body trembles uncontrollably. My sorrow becomes unbearable, and I close my eyes.
Bye, Papa.
The three days after the funeral were the hardest.
That’s when Mr. Lafayette came to read Papa’s will. There was so much paperwork to sign, I thought I would lose my mind. Max read every single page, though. He wouldn’t let me sign a document he didn’t check.
He’s been my rock throughout the entire ordeal.
I’m sitting in Papa’s armchair in the informal living room and staring at the book he was reading. He always loved reading.
The sorrow is starting to change into something darker. I would describe it as anger. It’s more violent than any emotion I’ve ever felt.
Getting up, my body feels listless as I leave the room.
I walk to the kitchen, where Philippe is busy preparing dinner. Even though the food smells delicious, I don’t have much of an appetite.
I take a seat at the island and watch as Philippe kneads dough.
We remain quiet for a while, then he asks, “What are you going to do?”
I let out a sigh. “I don’t know.” I glance around the kitchen, then think to say, “I won’t sell the house. It’s your home, and you can stay here as long as you want.”
“It’s too big for me,” he mutters. My chin starts to tremble, and he quickly adds, “But I’ll stay here and look after the house for you.”
“Thank you,” I squeeze the words out while lowering my head.
Philippe walks to me and wraps me in a fatherly hug. That’s all it takes for me to break down.
