Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. Twilight owns my soul. Me, I'm just the sad girl who owns this plotline.
I stood in the rain watching the casket slowly lower into the ground. People around me sobbed and dabbed at their faces with handkerchiefs. I just stood there, completely devoid of emotion, unable to comprehend what was happening. It couldn't be happening. Why was she gone? I couldn't fathom a world without her.
I heard my grandfather sob beside me. The sound was so full of despair, so much fear and loneliness; it shook me to the core. I looked over to see my father clutching to him like a life-line. It seemed like everyone was falling a part at the seams without her here to fix it. But not me. I didn't cry. She would have felt so bad if she'd known there were so many people crying over her. She needed someone strong. I was strong.
It had been two days since my family met with her lawyer to go over the will. Of course, she left most of her belongings to my grandpa, and a few heirlooms were entrusted to my father and mother. Sitting there in a hard-backed wooden chair, I twiddled my thumbs and stared at a point where the tacky wallpaper and a cracked ceiling panel met while they quietly wiped away tears after each item was read aloud. It's not that I didn't care about what was going on. My bored expression most likely impressed no one, but I was shocked and unbelievably saddened by her death. I just dealt with it differently than others.
I hadn't expected to receive anything from her. Truly, I hadn't. I mean, something might have eventually reached me after my parents passed it down, but receive something directly when she possessed so few materials items? I wasn't holding my breath. So, of course I was shocked when the lawyer pulled out thick, paper-wrapped package from a yellow envelope. Another small enveloped was pulled out with my named carefully scrawled across the middle.
On the drive back to my grandpa's house, where we were staying until the funeral was over, I had carefully opened the letter, not wanting to lose any bit of her that she might have put into it. Unfolding it, I was disappointed by its length. I had hoped she would have written something long and explanatory to me, some great novel about her life that would make her passing just a little easier.
I skimmed it and was even more disappointed. Obviously, she'd been in the depths of her sickness when she had written it. The letter read:
Of course you're reading this because I'm gone. I know you're not crying but please, don't be sad. Death has never been a fear of mine. I've been waiting for it for a very long time. What I have given to you, you must promise not to show to anyone else. Inside is something even your grandfather doesn't fully understand, and that is saying something since he knows me so well.
I've lived a long life (though it should have been infinitely longer) and sharing this with you isn't the wisest thing, but I know that somehow you'll understand it. You're so much like I was when I was younger. Just promise me, Becca, whatever you may want to do, don't go looking for trouble. With your genes, it's bound to come running to you.
I love you darling. My only regret is that I wasn't able to tell you everything. I just hope that you'll understand someday.
I read it over and over again. What had she meant by her life 'should have been infinitely longer?' What wasn't she able to tell me? What trouble? I didn't understand.
That had been two days ago. Now, as the rain fell from the perpetually overcast sky, and the crowds walked by one last time to throw a rose or two into her grave, all I could think about was going home to open that package. I needed to know the secret that Grandma had been hiding. I itched to discover some knowledge that only she and I would share. In my eyes, that would bring us closer together, even if it was too late.
Author's Note: I made a few changes to this. Enoy and please REVIEW!