“I can't believe it. He's gone.”

Walking into the funeral home with a smile trying to uplift my mom's spirit. Everyone was there, from his first grade teacher- a little white haired nun praying in front of the altar- to close family scattered everywhere with puffy red eyes. All were depressed souls-except for me- wearing black and a pin that daddy's best friend had made that my older cousin(by three months) and I handed out, it had a Rolling Stones, one of his favorite bands, logo(with the red tongue) and 'Glenn A. Morrison Esq.' on it. All of the teachers I had so far were there supporting my family. That includes the school nurse and guidance counselor. I was gossiping with my teachers and coloring when my mom came over and said,

“Go and play with Mary. She's alone.”.

After I refused to play with my two faced neighbor, she walked away. I wondered why 'Miss Perfect Best Friend Nicole' wasn't here with her. Both girls seemed to 'dislike me strongly' as an adult would put it. 'Oh that's right her whole family hates people!' I sassed in my head. Which is one hundred percent true. Soon enough the priest began to talk about my dad but I can only recall bits of his speech. 'What a great man Glenn was' and 'How much god loved him'. I burst out into sobs after only one minute. So much that all the thirsty people on Earth would be supplied with water for years to come. 'Then why did God make him sick and then take him? From me? From Grandma? From mommy?' I asked myself, wiping my tears away.

At that moment I finally realized that mommy wasn't joking- even though I refused to believe. He's actually gone. I would never pretend to fight with him over 'mi-mi's (What I used to call scrunchies) to put in his long jet black hair. His blue eyes would never pierce anyone else's. Particularly my mom's and my one similarly shaded brown eyes. I would miss seeing him one the sidelines of my soccer games, his tall figure dressed in a suit and tie, left hand shading his eyes to protect them from the burning sun- even when he had on sunglasses- and his right hand on his right hip or occasionally on his camera. He was searching for my short figure.

It all hit me then during the speech, and that's probably why I never remembered the speech.

What I had taken advantage of was now a struggle to hold onto, slipping right out of my finger tips. I knew nothing would ever be the same. I would lose my smile. My sass. Myself. Losing him was losing myself. I even told my mom,

“It feels like part of my heart's gone. But there's still apart for you and me.”

After saying good bye to everyone- half of which I didn't know that well- I walked out the same doors I came in through without the smile and old me, leaving with a new self and tear stains. The little sassy, loud, confident girl was now the little soft-spoken, quiet girl with a wall around her heart that it would take six years to break. People only know the girl without the wall but that's only a fragment of my true self. Something that wasn't simple. Believe me. Dad's funeral changed my personality and my feelings. The little girl is gone. Forever.