To my Dad

It was raining.

Light drops of water pouring forth from the sky and darkening the heavens.

It was raining in November.

Another first.

I looked into the mirror, staring at my grief stricken face.

My father was to be buried in two hours.

He was truly and actually dead.

I was now an orphan.

I felt the tears roll down my face in trips.

My parents were all gone, even though my dad hadn't treated me like a human worthy to work this earth in the last days of his life, he had still been my dad.

And now he was really going to be put into the ground.

And I did not know what to do.

I stared into the mirror again, my hair was packed back away from my face, I was clad in a black romper with white striped lines and I cleaned my face, splashing some water to cool my eyes.

I couldn't go out there looking like that, they would sense that something was wrong.

And the facade I had been putting up would crumble.

Lucky for me, Sacha had thought to bring clothes for the funeral when I had told her to