A/N: The Kübler-Ross model, commonly known as the five stages of grief, was first introduced by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross in her 1969 book, On Death and Dying. It describes, in five discrete stages, a process by which people allegedly deal with grief and tragedy, especially when diagnosed with a terminal illness or catastrophic loss. In addition to this, her book brought mainstream awareness to the sensitivity required for better treatment of individuals who are dealing with a fatal disease. [Taken from Wikipedia] - You'll want to keep this in mind as you read.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, its characters or any thing else that is publicly recognizable. Dexter, his family and these words are mine. Please don't steal.

Thanks to littlesecret84 for betaing and WriteOnTime for answering a particularly pain in the ass question I had about this.

Edward

"My name is Bella and I've known Dexter all my life. Our moms were pregnant at the same time; we always said that we were best friends, even in the womb. Our birthdays are three days apart and we did absolutely everything together. I'm sure all of you got a good laugh at the picture of Dex pouring sand in my hair at the beach. That's from a joint family vacation when we were five. Or maybe you saw the picture of Dex in a tux, dashing as ever, standing next to walking knees and elbows in a fancy dress - that's from our eighth grade dinner dance.

Everything about October 13, 2005 is locked in my memory. I can still remember the way the air felt on my cheeks when I left for class that morning, the sound of leaves crunching under my feet, and that I was wearing my favorite blue sweater, the one that Dex bought me for my 18th birthday. Just a few days before, he'd helped me figure out how to assign specific ring tones on my cell phone. He picked Hollaback Girl for himself and if you knew Dexter at all, you know how much he loved Gwen Stefani, even if he did think she was a sell out as a solo artist. Dex, I love you, but your taste in music was crap.

But it's not the pretty fall day, the sweater I was wearing or the ring tone that always made me laugh that makes that day stand out in my mind. It was the phone call from Dexter - Gwen shouted at me about bananas and when I answered, he didn't have to say a word. I knew something was wrong. That was the day Dex got his diagnosis.

Cancer is an ugly thing. In less than three years, it turned the physically strong, tall, amazing man I knew into a fragile shell of a human being. Cancer attacked Dexter's body, but there was no way it could change who he was on the inside. The day before he died, he made me laugh until I cried, reminding me of the senior prank he carried out single handedly. I don't know if you're here Mr. Banner, but Dexter asked me to apologize to you. He was the "sniveling shit" who hoisted your car onto the roof of the school.

Dexter was always so much stronger than me. To be perfectly honest, he handled his diagnosis better than I did; better than the majority of us did. I've spent hours talking with Sandy about how we often felt like it was Dexter who was supporting us instead of the other way around. He held each of us as we cried, angry at the world because this didn't fit into our plans. He was easy going, doing what he could to help raise money to fight the disease when he was well enough. He never let on how truly sick the chemo made him, telling me he just had a stomach bug when he spent hours throwing up.

Dexter wasn't just my best friend. He was the love of my life. I try so hard not to be angry with God for taking Dex from me at such a young age, because we had twenty two amazing years together and spent the last four as a couple. We talked a lot about what I would say today. There was never a question who would deliver his eulogy and he joked that he was just going to write down what he wanted me to read. He did write some things and though many of the things he wrote are true, the one that sticks in my head is this: 'I am the best person that Bella has ever known.' He was. He is.

You, Dexter's family and friends, were so important to him. This is his goodbye to you:

"Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion's starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don't see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often, it's not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it's always there - fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends. When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know, none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge - they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I've got a sneaking suspicion...love actually is all around."

I've got a sneaking suspicion of my own that Dexter chose that quote as his goodbye because he often recited it to me on bad days. He told me there would be bad days after he was gone, but to remember that there was always love. He asked us to lean on each other, to focus on the good. He wanted me to say that he's not in pain anymore, he's at peace and he sends every ounce of love that he can our way. He said he knew this was going to suck for all of us, but that the love that we all had for him should be extended to everyone who knew him, that we could - and should - support each other with that love.

I can't speak for any of you, but I can speak for myself when I say the past week has been the hardest I've endured, ever. Seeing all of you today shows me that, as always, Dexter was right. Dexter, we all love you. We'll miss you, but we take your advice to heart. May the love we all felt for you be our support network in the weeks, months, and years to come. Thank you all for being here today."

Rosalie buried her face in my neck and wept. When she had asked me to come home with her for this funeral, I'd balked. I didn't know the guy and she knew her entire high school would turn out because he was Mr. Popular, well liked, all around perfect. We fought for two days before I relented and agreed to come to the armpit of the Pacific Northwest - Forks, Washington - with her. I hated this town and had always insisted Rose's parents come visit us in Chicago. Color me surprised when the deceased's girlfriend stood up to read the eulogy and I was immediately drawn to her.

Bella's speech was beautiful. I heard people sniffling all around me and laughing at some of the memories she shared. I smiled to myself when she mentioned the eighth grade dinner dance picture - that one had actually made me laugh out loud the night before at the funeral home. She really was a vision in her dark blue sweater - I imagined it was the one she'd been wearing that crisp October morning - and slim black skirt. Her voice was strong and clear, not at all what I expected from a woman who'd just lost her lifelong best friend and boyfriend of four years.

"Edward, what are you smiling about? This is ridiculously sad," Rose said, her voice thick with tears.

I kissed her forehead. "Just remembering one of the pictures she mentioned in her speech, baby. The eighth grade dinner dance," I said softly. "She really was awkward, wasn't she?"

Bella

The reception…wake...whatever the hell people were calling it these days…sucked. Out loud. I made my way to the back porch of the Robinson's house and took a deep breath. I knew I should be freezing, but I hadn't felt anything more than an overwhelming sense of emptiness in over a week. The days leading up to Dexter's death had sucked almost as much as the past seven had.

I tapped a cigarette out of the nearly empty pack and cursed under my breath. There were only four left and I was going to be here all night. Feeling around in my pockets, I realized I'd left my lighter in the house, leaving me with the matches I knew Sandy kept hidden. It took three of them, but I finally got the damn thing lit. I leaned forward and rested my elbows on the railing. My eyes were closed; I imaged the lecture I'd get from Dexter if he were here with me.

"You shouldn't smoke, Bella. Do you want to end up like me? I know you're jealous that I get to lounge around all day while you go to work, but come on."

The soundtrack of his voice played in my head until someone cleared their throat behind me.

"You gave a beautiful eulogy."

The voice was like velvet and my stomach lurched at the sound.

Shit.

Trust me when I say that this is a B/E story. It'll get there, I promise.

Thank you to NaughtySparkle (TFX), pkitten21, juliebee, littlesecret84, agueatworld, the ladies I've WC'd with while working on this and anyone else I've bounced this idea off of.

I'd really appreciate reviews. This is kind of my baby.