Monday morning was quiet.

The weekend had been wild, reckless, and loud with my brothers and I disturbing the peace. But today? Today was quiet.

Today the birds seemed to sing in a lower pitch. By the lack of cars driving up and down our street, it seemed that families were spending every last second together before the day began. I appreciated that, even if I was assuming that's what was happening. Every second counted. That final embrace before a long school or workday, that goodbye kiss, and that glance across the driveway to silently say I love you—those things meant the entire world. I knew that. My family knew that for certain...

Somewhere around dawn, I'd found dad in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee from his Number One Dad coffee mug that I'd gotten him a few years ago. The two of us hadn't said anything to each other as we stood in the kitchen. Dad simply smiled, recognizing the delicate rhythm of my footsteps walking into the kitchen. Offering me a cup of coffee and an arm to stand under, dad and I had put up with our lack of sleep by watching the sunrise through our kitchen window.

The silence was comforting. Maybe it was what I needed to prepare myself for what lay ahead of me today. The silent nudge of courage I'd needed to make it.

My brothers eventually woke up, Aiden and I's school already informed that we would not be in class until tomorrow morning. Though, I'm sure the administrative office hadn't expected any of the King family to be present at school anyways. We'd quickly eaten breakfast, all of us quickly getting ready, not wanting to hit any traffic on our way towards the cemetery.

Mom was buried at Rose Hills Cemetery, a resting place that spread along a small hillside cliff, the dark and beautiful blue sea lapping at the rocks beneath.

Mom loved the ocean. She loved the smell of salt in the air and the squishy sand between her toes. She loved the seagulls, their calls and cries echoing through the air as if they'd been greeting her return home.

When I was younger, mom loved to take my brothers and me to the beach where we boogie-boarded in the ocean for hours, only stopping when our stomachs began to growl among the bobbing waves. When our cheeks were burnt (much to my mother's displeasure) and our eyes red with exhaustion, she took us to a small hole-in-the-wall gelato shop in town. On the drive home, my brothers and I would pass out in the backseat, all three of us out for the count.

During her final days, when we'd asked her where she had wanted... where she had wanted to be laid to rest, her answer had been so quick: the sea.

Please put me by the sea, she had said. Not cremated and scattered, lost forever in the wind, but buried by the seaside so that a part of her could always be tethered to us and the one place that called to her heart.

My fingers traced the small, embroidered flowers along the front pocket of my jeans. They were tiny little yellow flowers sewn along the curve of my pocket, barely there from afar, but my fingers always found the design. It was a nervous habit.

My heart was thundering in my chest, matching the steady hum of gravel beneath our car as dad drove. Sweat had beaded along my palms and forehead a long time ago. My stomach coiled distastefully, threatening to push up the pancakes I'd eaten for breakfast. I swallowed every time I thought I'd throw up all over dad's freshly washed car. I kept swallowing until that sickness subsided.

Anxiety bit at my heart, chewing at it.

Inhale, Emily.

I sucked in a deep breath as we drove up the gravel road towards the cemetery, the car bouncing a little beneath us as we hit a bumpy patch of road.

Exhale.

I blew out a little breath, headstones appearing on my side of the window for miles. Rose Hill went up and up and up, and there were dozens of people buried here with mom. Dozens of families, friends, and lovers missing someone.

The first few times we'd come here after mom had died, I'd had an anxiety attack before we'd even stepped foot on the grassy summit. I remembered collapsing, falling to the ground, and clawing at my throat, desperate for air as the world caved in around me. I remembered crying, wailing, gasping, and wheezing. I remembered the black dots that kissed my vision and the way I had grasped a handful of grass between my fingers, ripping them from the ground as my dad had yelled, begging for me to breathe.

Isaac, being educated far beyond his years, had drawn my hands to the pants I had worn back then. To the embroidered jeans that I had eventually outgrown but had loved ever since mom had made them for me. My eldest brother had moved my fingers over the embroidered flowers, red on those pants, and traced my fingers over them, tears in his bright blue eyes as he whispered breathe, Emily. Focus on the feeling of the flowers. Focus on the silk. Think about each strand, the feeling on the tip of your fingers. Look at them. Focus on them and breathe.

I swallowed. My fingers drew small circles on the tiny yellow flowers on the pants I wore today as I blinked away the horrid memory.

Dad pulled up along the curb where the gravel met the grass and put the car in park. Opening my car door, I gazed down at the grass. The green.

Inhale.

Exhale.

The tips of my shoes hit the grass, then my heels. Both feet. Then I was standing. Breathing. I was okay.

It'd been a while since I'd had an anxiety attack. I'd come close a few times, but it'd been a while. I glanced up to find my family standing just a few feet up the hill, all of their eyes flashing with concern and worry.

My shoulders relaxed a little and I smiled, "I'm okay, guys, don't worry."

Isaac grinned, gently swinging an arm over my shoulder and planting a kiss on the side of my head, "You're doing good, Emmy."

The plastic surrounding a bouquet of pastel-colored flowers in Isaac's other arm crinkled. Nausea slithered through my stomach, encouraging a slight flutter of panic in my heart, but I pressed down on the feeling, forcing a smile onto my lips as I kissed Isaac's head back. Leaning my head against his shoulder, he guided me behind Aiden and Dad. Up and up and up we went, our shoes treading through the clean-cut grass.

Anxiety chewed at my heart, scheming in all of its evil ways to suck the air from my lungs and press me down to my knees. But I was my father's daughter. My will was tough as steel and I pressed back. I fought back.

Inhale. Exhale. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

Isaac's hand tightened on my shoulder and his eyes remained ahead, but I knew he could hear the practiced breathing techniques in each of my breaths. His fingers squeezed my shoulder gently as we came closer and closer to the top of the summit as if saying I'm here. I'm here no matter what.

Near the top of the summit, we found mom waiting for us, her headstone dusty and autumn leaves clinging to the base of her headstone. The golden sun bloomed across the horizon ahead of us in a glorious vision of gold. I could see the sea from where I was standing, the dark and mysterious body of water winking and twinkling at me under the eye of the sun as if recognizing the daughter of an eternal friend it had made.

Getting down on his knees, dad felt the earth with his hands, pressing down on the earth to feel where that flower vase was. Each headstone came with one. A small little flower vase buried in the earth so that your flowers could last a little longer.

Dad must have found the area it was buried because he slid on his garden gloves and began using a smaller garden shovel to begin digging up the earth for that vase. Reaching in, he pulled out the dirt-covered plastic vase, brushing it off before handing it to me.

"Could you fill this with water for me, kiddo? I'll have your brothers snip the bottom of the flowers to put in there." Dad asked, smiling at me. The morning sun hit his face, illuminating the slight crinkles around his mouth from years of smiling. All I could think about when I saw those lines on his face was time—Was there ever enough time in the world? Was there ever a perfect amount of time to have and spend with somebody? Did the universe ever give us a fair amount of time here? With the people we loved?

I nodded, taking the vase gently in my hands and heading back down the grassy hill where water spigots were provided along the curb of the road.

Trotting down the hill, I thought of Kaden.

What was he doing right now? What song was he listening to as he drove back from the city? What would it be like to have him here right now?

Turning the water spigot, water splashed into the dirty vase. Quickly rinsing the vase clean of dirt, I filled it up and turned off the spigot.

It was quiet. Everything was quiet. Silent. And my eyes wandered the graveyard as I made my trek back up the steep slope of the hill, water sloshing in the plastic vase. Today, the hill was pretty empty. I think I spotted a few people standing at a few headstones in the distance, but it was pretty empty until my eyes landed on a small funeral procession taking place further down the hill.

Three young kids stood in front of a small crowd of people, closest to a coffin that was being lowered into the ground. Two boys and one girl. Two strong boys, their faces stern as they each held onto their younger sister who wailed between them, a limp flower in her hands.

I swallowed.

A woman stood behind the young girl and gently put a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. The girl only wailed louder.

A minute ago, the funeral procession had been too far away to hear anything, but a gentle and salty breeze flew towards me and within the soft whistle, I swear I heard the small girl's cries. Hair tangled into her face but she didn't bother brushing it away, her fist turning white as she clenched the limp flower.

Another gust of salty wind flew past me, pushing my hair behind my shoulders and caressing both of my cheeks as if they were comforting hands cupping my face. You know how she feels, don't you? The wind seemed to question.

My eyes burned and I looked away, stalking back up the hill as my hand instantly pressed into my chest, at the pain that throbbed deep within at the sight of the three children. God, that had been me not so long ago. That had been me wailing between my stone-faced brothers as they fought to hold back tears, desperately trying to be the pillars of strength they'd always been for me. How bad had they wanted to burst into tears as they watched mom's coffin lower into the ground to be buried forever? How bad had they wanted to shout, scream, and cry like I had when it finally hit them that mom would never again speak? She would never again laugh, cry, hold us, sing to us... Her scent would disappear in time with her face. The word 'mom' itself would hurt, stinging as it materialized from another's lips.

How hard had it been to be that pillar of strength? How hard had it been to be selfless? To listen to me cry and wail and scream yet suppress all that in order to be the one thing I could cling onto?

I felt ashamed. I felt selfish. I didn't deserve a second of what my brothers had been to me. I would never deserve an ounce of the people they were to me, but I would be better. I would do better. I wanted to be better. I wanted to be better for my brothers. I wanted them to lean on me now.

I wanted to be their pillar of strength—a pillar far stronger than they could imagine. I would be just that.

Coming up towards the top of the hill, finding the sun illuminating my little family standing before mom's grave, I couldn't help the heart-clenching feeling that echoed in my chest. Dad was laughing softly as Aiden's face scrunched up, wet leaves plastered to his cheek and Isaac slapped another leaf onto his face.

Another salty breeze blew past me, a few loose strands of hair flying into my face. My eyes didn't leave my family as I brushed them away, a warm feeling drifting through the air as I watched them.

I'd missed a lot, hadn't I?

"Oh, thanks, kiddo!" Dad took the vase from me and gently put it back into the ground. Handing the flowers to dad, Isaac smiled at me, his eyes searching mine. Wary and concerned.

I smiled back, ruffling his hair from where he squatted on the ground next to me.

Dad fluffed the flowers up in the vase, brushing a finger over one of the flowers as he made sure everything was perfect for mom. Dad had brought a towel and he wiped down mom's headstone, brushing away a few months' worth of dust, leaves, and other natural elements of the world that had clung onto the headstone while we'd been gone. We'd been gone a long time, and the leaves and the dust showed just that... I'd been gone for a long time, avoiding this cemetery like it was the plague.

It was fear, I know it was, but the idea that mom might think that I didn't want to see her...

I pulled my bottom lip inwards, trying to stop the slight wobble of it.

Reaching out, dad brushed a hand along the top of her gravestone, tracing the slight curve of the stone as if his hand was smoothing over the soft plane of her cheek again. His smile... hurt me. His smile, heartbroken yet as handsome as ever, was a constant reminder that dad had lost someone too.

I had lost my mother. My guardian and hero. The shoulder I was supposed to cry on. The one person who would understand this whole situation we called womanhood and... and love.

My dad... Dad had lost so much more. With a single whisper from the universe, years of being best friends, lovers, and soulmates had vanished into the silence and the dust. A connection that could forge an entire world could be rendered silent with a loss of heartbeat. The simple absence of those Badums, Badums, Badums echoing in our chests could silence a million memories over centuries.

Most of dad's back was to me, but as soon as his hand came up and wiped his cheek, I knew he was crying. His shoulders didn't shake and no sniffles came from him, but the sun caught those tiny sparkling tears falling down his cheek.

I didn't realize I was crying too until a plump teardrop fell onto my chest, streaming down the front of my top. I quickly wiped them away.

"Hi, Vanessa," Dad spoke, his hand still on the headstone as if not wanting to let go of the cold piece of stone. "I'm sorry that I haven't been here... I'm sorry we haven't been here in a while. You'd think that we'd have learned how to manage time the best, considering we knew how little of it there was, but you'd be surprised to discover that we're still trying to figure that one out..." Dad laughed a little, wiping his face again as he inhaled deeply.

Dad turned around and looked at all three of us, a giant smile on his lips even as his blue eyes swam with tears, "You see them, Vanessa? Do you see how perfect each one of them is? They're everything you and I have always wanted and I thank God every day that you came to me and that these three were what was waiting for us. I wish..." Dad choked up a little and I lost it. Tears fell so fast, so freely, my vision began to blur. I knew my brothers were crying too, but dad kept smiling at us like we were the most precious thing he'd ever seen, "I just wish we had more time... I wish you had more time to see all that they've done and become. You'd be so proud... I know you're proud... I'm so proud."

The chest beside me seized up, choking with sobs, and I glanced to my side. Brushing the sleeve of my blouse along my eyes, my vision cleared and I found Isaac beside me. My eldest brother was trying so hard to keep that smile on his face but it was so obvious he was crying. Tears dripped down his cheeks, his lips wobbling and his eyes brimming with fresh tears. The image of him beside me crying brought me back a few years. I felt like I was standing alongside the young boy who hadn't cried during mom's funeral—the same boy who'd buried his hurt and loss to make sure I made it through mom's funeral.

I brushed my fingers against Isaac's. I could feel his eyes on me, those swirling blue eyes focused on me, shocked that I was offering my hand because... because I'd never done this before.

I swallowed and folded my hand into his, our fingers interlacing. Isaac held my hand tighter than he'd ever done.

"Time is a funny thing and so is the universe... You're never quite sure if they're rooting for you or against you, huh?" Dad laughed softly, shaking his head a little at the irony. He brushed his fingers over the stone again, and to himself, he said, "But I know wherever you are and wherever you go, you'll build a world up just as you did in this one. No matter what, I know you'll rock the very ground you stand on and change it for the better."

"I love you, mom," I croaked. My brothers murmured the same thing beside me, and dad did as well before carefully standing and gathering all three of us into his arm. The embrace was silent, but it was warm and familiar, and beautiful. I knew all of us were crying, but for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel obligated to wipe my tears away as fast as possible and hide them. For the first time in a long time, crying didn't feel much like a weakness but rather a way of healing the soul.

To be honest, I wasn't sure how long we stood there, holding each other. All I knew was that this, all of it, felt right. I felt like holding my family close, letting myself be open with them (no matter how little the progression was), had slowly struck a dent into that steel wall I'd spent years building around myself. The fortress was finally falling, and I hadn't realized how suffocating it'd been to be without my family until I'd realized that I'd been drowning on my own.

Dad kissed my forehead, his hand gently stroking my hair. I looked up at him and he smiled at me, his blue eyes swimming. Dad kissed Aiden and Isaac gently on the head too, pulling us tighter as he whispered love you, kiddos.

Slowly, we all pulled away, but dad's brows furrowed as he looked at something. Someone.

"Aiden, what's wrong, kiddo?" We all turned to find my middle brother standing before us. He was crying, soft tears sliding down his cheeks as he stared right at us. I knew my brother and looking at him standing before us, I knew he wasn't just crying because he missed mom. Something was wrong and I knew it the minute I saw that poisonous, cold serpent called fear swimming around in his blue eyes.

His lips wobbled and he looked at me.

"I... There's something I have to tell you guys." Aiden croaked.