Kurt swallowed and tried to ignore the lump in his throat.
He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the bathroom door. He was dizzy and nauseous. Today would be impossible. He wanted to go back to bed, sleep and wake to find it had been nothing more than a bad dream.
Opening his eyes he checked his reflection. He was as ready as he was going to get with the exception of his tie. He'd tried three times to get it right but his fingers, practiced as they were, would not stop shaking.
His mind wandered to the room where the man who had always loved him and been there for him lie in the polished silver casket he'd chosen. He was sure his knees would buckle as soon as he reached the door. Walking in, passing all the flowers, kneeling beside him, seeing his face one final time then saying goodbye, his entire body went cold with the thought. Bile raised in his throat.
"Kurt, we have to go."
He didn't respond to the voice that bellowed down the hall. He continued to stand in place, every muscle refusing to move. If he just stayed here, right here, it wouldn't be true.
"Are you ready?"
"My tie. I can't." Tears flooded his eyes.
He lifted his chin as his tie was knotted for him.
It wasn't until he felt Blaine's fingers fit between his own that he looked in his husband's sympathetic eyes and found the strength to face his father's funeral.