Page 19 of Never Really Over

I’ve never donesomething as difficult as bury my baby sister and her husband. The entire month since Mason lost control of the vehicle, sending it into oncoming traffic, killing both him and my sister as well as the driver of one of the vehicles, has been nothing short of a living hell.

As far as the police could tell, and according to the driver of the oncoming car and the passenger who was in the vehicle following them, Mason wasn’t doing anything wrong, but with the heavy rain, he started to hydroplane and lost control of the vehicle. When he made the mistake of swerving to the side of the road, he swerved too far, went off on the shoulder, overcorrected, spun sideways, hitting the oncoming car with the passenger side of his. The car behind him couldn’t get stopped in time and hit the driver’s side. The combination of gravel and the sudden braking ended up taking three lives and injuring two others.

My sister died on impact. We lost Mason shortly after he arrived at the hospital.

The driver of the oncoming car had a broken arm, two broken ribs, a concussion and some bumps and bruises. The driver of the car that hit my sister’s car on Mason’s side also died on impact while his wife, the passenger, walked away with minor injuries.

The kicker? Maureen, Layla’s mom, was the car who hit on Natalie’s side.

I haven’t seen or heard from either Maureen or Layla. Neither of them were at the funeral services, though, that was because Maureen was still in the hospital.

My parents did come back home, obviously. But after two weeks, they returned to Texas. Honestly, it was more stressful having them around than seeing them go home. Dad helped a little on the farm and Mom helped with Poppy, but I could tell they were… unsettled. Which made Poppy and me both unsettled. Mason’s parents stayed at Mason and Natalie’s house and were a huge help, too, but they left a few days after my parents did.

Natalie had told me they’d had a will written up and if anything were to happen to her and Mason, I would be Poppy’s guardian. I just never imagined a scenario where that would come to life.

I don’t know how to be a dad.

I know how to be Poppy’s uncle and Nat’s big brother and Mason’s brother-in-law and a farmer.

This?

This, I don’t know how to do.

Poppy misses her parents, even though she has no understanding that’s why she’s so out of sorts and upset and sad all the time. She wasn’t talking much yet, just babbling and using a few words, so I don’t think she’s saying mama, though it’s possible.

And her first birthday is coming up.

What do I do then?

How am I supposed to celebrate her first birthday when her parents are gone? They should be here to see her blow spit at a candle and eat frosting and cake.

Most days she seems happy but I can tell that she’s confused and misses her mom and dad, as she should.

It sucks. There’s no other way to say it.

My friends have been around, and since they all have kids have been helping, too. But damn. This isn’t how life is supposed to go. But it’s the life that we have now and I’ll be damned if I’m not going to do right by my sister and Mason. They trusted me with their whole world. Their daughter.

The knowledge that of all the people they could have chosen to take care of Poppy if something were to happen to them that they chose me is humbling.

Even though my body is desperate for a good night’s sleep, I can’t seem to get my brain to shut down long enough to get more than an hour or two at a time. Could be because I have Poppy sleeping in her portable crib in my bedroom so I’m hyper-aware of every single noise she makes, jumping out of bed immediately and rushing to her side.

Pretty sure that’s going to come back to bite me in the ass sooner rather than later, but for now, she deserves all the attention I can give her.

I slip out of bed and, after checking to make sure Poppy is sleeping soundly, make my way to the kitchen to get a glass of water, too restless to sleep. It’s only 9:30 anyway, so it’s no surprise that I can’t fall asleep yet, but I was hoping that maybe I could convince my brain to shut up for a moment. Turns out, no such luck.

A light knock on my door has me rushing to it, not wanting even the slightest noise to wake up Poppy.

When I open it, to say I’m surprised to see the person standing on the other side would be a huge understatement.

“Dalton? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Hey, man,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry to just show up like this.”

“Everything okay?” I ask, wondering what reason there could possibly be for him to be at my house in the first place, let alone at this time of night.

“I uh,” he pauses and looks at his feet, scrubbing a hand down his face, “I’m sorry for your loss, man.”

That takes me back a little but I rally. “Thanks.”

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