As we pulled into the parking lot, I could already see the black car at the front of the church with tinted windows where my father was.
I can't do this, I thought. I can't. I just can't. Mom can do this herself. She'll be fine. But, as soon as I looked at her face, I knew she couldn't. I had to go in.
I opened my door, stepped out into the crisp autumn air, and took a deep breath. Patting my raven colored lace dress, I started towards the chapel.
I knew what this was going to be. A bunch of people giving me sympathetic looks. It happens at every funeral. Strangers coming up to you, telling stories of how they met your loved one who has passed and telling you to “stay strong”. If you ask me, it's really quite pointless. I mean, I know they mean well and all but, that doesn't change the fact that my dad is gone. No matter what advice these people have to offer, he's not coming back.
As much as I would regret entering this church, mom would hate it even more. Grandma Cathy would be there and ever since the accident, mom had been trying to keep her distance.
I looked up at mom. Her caramel colored hair had been pulled back into a bun as usual.
“Stand up straight,” she snapped. “ You know how much I hate it when you slouch.”
“Sorry,” I muttered. We said nothing after that.
God, the silence is even worse than talking to her. I giggled at the thought of anything being worse than talking to her.
My laugh must've been a lot louder than I thought because mom shot me a glare. She didn't say anything but that one look told me to shut up and I did just that.
We walked into the bright room and it was already filled with close to fifty people. Everyone looked the same, though. Everyone was wearing black, huddled in little groups, and hugging one another. The only person who I could actually pick out of the crowd was Grandma Cathy heading this way.
She practically threw herself onto my mom, sobbing into her shoulder.
“It's too soon!” Grandma said gasping for air. Mom wrapped her arms around grandma.
“I know, Cathy,” mom said, starting to sound choked up as well. If I were my grandma, though, I wouldn't let my mom get off that easily. My dad died because of my mom. My grandma’s only son died because of that woman standing in front of me.
“Janie!” Grandma shouted, almost sounding shocked to see me.
“Hi, grandma.”
“How are you doing?” She gave me a small squeeze.
How am I doing? Well considering I'm at my dad’s funeral right now, I'm doing pretty good.
“I'm okay,” I said trying to sound somewhat sincere.
She looked as if she was about to say something but, was cut off by the pastor standing at the top of the staircase.
“Folks, if you could make your way up to the sanctuary.”

As we sat in the front row, the purple velvet seats felt soft on my fingertips. We turned at the sound of the back door creaking open. My dad’s cousin, two of his friends from high school, and his brother-in-law came in, carrying his dark oak casket. Once he was placed at the front of the church, Uncle Max took his seat between my mom and I.
“Friends and family,”  comforted the pastor, “we are here to remember John Brooks.” The pastor’s calming voice held us together.
Trying not to cry as my family members spoke about my father, I sat twirling my locket between my fingers. It sparkled in the candle light below the window. I’ve worn the necklace everywhere since that day.

*        *        *       
   
With twelve seconds left on the clock, I desperately sprinted across the court and made one last shot. All eyes laid upon the orange ball circling on the rim of the basket. One time around, two, three….clunk.
“Jane Brooks made the winning shot for her team, ending the game with a score of 20-19,” the deep voice boomed on the gymnasium speakers.
My parents made their way down the bleachers, squeezing through groups of people celebrating the win.
“Good job, Jane,” my mom said.
“ ‘at a girl, Janie! Nice shot!” dad beamed, fistbumping me.
“Thanks,” I panted. As I tried to regain my breath, I looked up at mom who was checking the time on her cell.
“Mom, you look exhausted, and you weren’t even the one who just ran for an hour and a half.”
A faint smile spread across her pale, almost transparent, face. “I’m extremely tired. We should get going. Can I have the keys, Hon?” 
I watched as Dad dug through his pocket, threw out on old gum wrapper he had in there, and gently tossed the keys to Mom. He hadn’t noticed the small box tumble from his jacket, onto the floor next to his foot.
“Are you sure you’re okay driving?” he said sounding a bit concerned. “I really don’t mind driving if you’re tired. You don’t have to do everything, you know.”
“I’m fine. I’ll drive.”
“Uh, Dad. I think you dropped something.” I bent down, picked up the box, and held it out to him, waiting for him to take it.
“Open it.” he smiled as he pushed my hand back towards me.
I lifted off the lid of the box and in it was a golden, heart-shaped, locket.
“Oh, it’s beautiful!” I exclaimed. He put the chain around my neck and hooked the clasps together.
“So you like it? I did good?” He asked
“Yes. Thank you.” I threw my arms around him.
“I’m gonna be right back,” he said starting to go the direction of my coach. Mom and I went out to wait for him in the car and as soon as I sat down, I was out.
I woke up about 15 minutes away from my house.
11:05? How did it get passed 11 already? We must’ve been driving for over an hour. I can’t wait to go home and just sleep.
I could see the yellow, glowing light off in the distance change to red. We kept getting closer and closer to it but, our speed remained the same.
“Mom! Slow down!” I wanted to yell but, no words came out in time.

“Mom?” I was staring at the bright light over my bed. “Where am I?”
“You’re in the hospital, Sweetie.”
“Am I okay?! What happened?!” I bounced up into an upright position. There was a sharp pain in my left side. She noticed me grasping my side and laid me back down. So many questions were going about in my head.
“Jane,” she said softly, “we were involved in a car accident last night. The doctor said that you have a broken rib and a concussion but, you're going to be fine.”
“Where's dad? How is he?” I had a gut feeling I already knew what that answer was.
“Dad was hurt pretty bad, Sweetie. There was nothing they could do.”
Those words instantly made my rib stop hurting. I’ve seen TV shows and movies where a parent dies tragically but, that could never have prepared me for the real thing.

                                 *                      *                      *

“John was a great man who was taken too quickly from us. He was the best brother-in-law I could ever ask for.”
Those words from Uncle Max led the whole church into Amazing Grace.
At that moment I realized I had actually lost my dad. For the first time in my life I let my family see the tears pouring out of my eyes. My mom noticed that I was no long holding them back and politely escorted me into the foyer.
“Mom, I'm sorry.”
“You don't need to apologize for crying. I understand.”
“No. I'm sorry for holding this grudge against you. For blaming you. I know it was an accident and I'm sorry.”
“I had no idea you felt this way, Sweetie.”
“I think it was just easier to blame it on you than to have the whole situation not make sense.”
She gently brushed away the tears still running down my face.
“Can you forgive me, Mom? I really need you.”
“Of course. No matter what, I'm always here for you and we're going to get through this together.”
Together. That word has gone through my ear a million times and yet, it has never sounded more beautiful.
I placed my hand in her palm and walked back toward the sanctuary, together.