The Funeral

Funerals happen a lot quicker than I imagined they would. This is the first time I've been at the helm of planning one and I didn't realize I'd be expected to make sensible and coherent decisions while drowning in an ocean of grief. I thought I'd have more time to come to terms with the fact my father has passed. I thought I'd wake up from this nightmare by now.

To make matters worse, Seth is in Vegas. His schedule didn't allow a trip back to Portland for Dad's funeral. He demanded the MMAC approve his request for a twenty-four-hour leave, but they declined it because Dad wasn't immediate family. The championship fight is tomorrow night and it's a risk they can't take. And I get it. It just sucks. He's been so busy we've barely spoken. He calls me after midnight every night, but we fall asleep before the conversation goes anywhere. I miss him.

"Shit," I swear as the zipper of my dress eludes me for the millionth time.

It sits between my shoulder blades, where I can't reach, taunting me