It's Our Last Chance to Feel Again

Taking a deep breath, I watched as my fingers shakily did up the buttons of my dress. Today was the day. The day I had to finally let go.

I wasn't ready to do it. I wasn't ready to watch his casket find it's rightful place beneath the earth. I wasn't ready to say goodbye. But I suppose I wouldn't ever be. Not even after today was over.

The past few days had been hard, what with having to plan the funeral with Uncle Jack, having to inform everyone about my father's abrupt death, having to call home and notifying my mother about the funeral time and date, and having to bear with the many letters and wishes of condolences while the wake had taken place.

But the worst of it all, the hardest part of those four days, was having to tell Uncle Jack what had happened. Of course he hadn't blamed me for anything, but I was afraid of what he truly thought; Of what the pack truly thought.

I'd tried hard to stay out of the pack's way, only going out to the beach when I was absolutely sure I was going mad. I stayed in my room whenever the pack was over, my fear turning me into a coward too ashamed to face reality.

My suspicions of what was on their minds were confirmed on the second day, when Uncle Jack and I had to go to Sam's house for the planning of the funeral and burial ceremony.

I had excused myself the moment I felt the familiar tug of guilt tear at my already weary heart, and gone into the toilet where I spent quite a while trying to regain the little amount of composure I had left Uncle Jack's house with.

Evidently, my absence had annoyed the pack and given them, and Uncle Jack, a chance to voice their opinions because when I was just about to leave the compact room that had prevented me from breaking down, I heard a sigh, "Why is she taking so long?"

The reply never got to my ears, but the snide that followed pierced through my eardrum, slashed at my nerves, and resonated in my mind.

"Oh please, this wouldn't have happened if she hadn't shown up for no apparent reason in the first place."

The scolds and abashed hisses of "Leah!" went unheeded, because every shred of poise I had managed to regain was ruthlessly emaciated and shattered, and all I could think about at that point was "How do I get out of here without being seen?"

I eventually realised that there was no way I could climb out the tiny window that sat far too high on the wall. And so, with eyes as puffy as a cumulus cloud and a nose so red even Rudolph would have made fun of it, I brisk walked out of the toilet, past the living room where the eyes of every member of the pack followed me, and out the front door, closing it as quietly behind me as possible in a miserable attempt of inconspicuously leaving the house.

There was no denying that if I hadn't gone into the woods, my father would still be alive. And everyday, the thought of the pack and Uncle Jack blaming me kept me wary of human contact. I knew it was silly, and I knew that if I didn't stop anytime soon, I would drive myself into insanity.

But I didn't care. All that mattered was the blame Leah had rightfully put on me. So from that day on, I kept myself in the house, only speaking when spoken to, and always trying hard to make myself disappear. I was trying hard to stay clear of everyone unless I absolutely had to be around people. Everyone including Jacob Black.

I felt horrible, trying to push him away, and I knew he felt just as bad as I did, if not worse. But seeing him reminded me so much of my father. His ridiculous height, the slacks, the tanned skin, the same crewcut, the ability to change into a werewolf. It was bad enough having to remind myself every morning that I would never see my father again each time I started a day with the memory of seeing my father for the first time in fourteen years. I didn't want to make things any harder for me by having to face him everyday and be reminded of what could have been.

I had even taken to brushing my teeth in the dark and getting ready without a mirror.

But today was the day everything would crumble. My habits of dealing, the temporary silent treatment I was giving everyone, and most probably, my composure.

Today was the day I'd say goodbye to his body. The day I had to try and let everything go.

---

"My father was a brave man. He- Shit," I mumbled, cursing as I felt the warm drops gather on my bottom lid, as if daring me to blink so that they could begin on their descend.

I felt someone sit beside me on the bench, and the moment every inch of my body tingled from the heat that radiated off the person who sat next to me, I swore in my mind, squeezing my eyes shut as if begging for him to leave.

Immediately, my hands flew up to my face where I wiped away all evidence of my grief. I had to be strong. Strong enough to face the crowd. Strong enough to face Uncle Jack. Strong enough to give the eulogy my dad deserved. And sitting right beside Jacob Black wasn't doing any good in helping me.

"I know you're trying to avoid me and even though I don't know why, I'm going to go along with it. I'm just here to tell you that Jack and the pack decided that maybe you shouldn't give the eulogy. They think that it might be a little too soon for you. So one of us is going to do it instead," I heard him mutter and I instantly felt like throwing up.

Why was he being so nice?

"But I want to do it," I helplessly whispered, my voice holding no conviction or confidence.

I saw him nod from the corner of my eye. "I know you do, but you're not ready."

I snorted, despite everything, and turned to look him sharply, "And what makes you think I'll ever be ready? That's my father up there. He died because of me, and the least I can do is give him the best damn eulogy I can think up. So say what you want, but I'm going up there whether I'm ready or not. And I don't care if everyone here has to sit through my incoherent mumblings while I cry on the podium, they're going to listen to me, and they're going to appreciate my father. Tell that to Sam."

He sighed, a mixture of exasperation and hurt, before placing his hands gently on my shoulders, "Stop being so stubborn, okay? I know you want to do it, and I know it'd be great for you if you did. But you bawling your eyes out in front of people who believe that Ryan died in a hit-and-run isn't going to be very helpful."

I frowned, but took deep breaths to prevent me from screaming, "Aren't people supposed to cry at funerals? Or, by some strange chance I've been seriously misguided, are funerals meant to be a joyous occasion where everyone's bursting out in song and dance? And really? A hit-and-run? That's the best the pack could come up with?"

"Oh for- Katherine, really? I get that you're grieving and all, but you're being ridiculous right now," Jacob scolded, and I suddenly felt like a little girl being denied her favourite toy.

"Yeah, well, you're not letting me give the eulogy. So you're being just as ridiculous," I huffed, folding my arms across my chest as I defiantly looked at the raised platform and the lectern that stood proud on it. "Even so, no matter how ridiculous I'm being, a "hit-and-run" tops the list. I'd be able to come up with better- Even in my "unready" state," I mocked, putting air quotations for an added snobby effect.

Jacob, who obviously had had too much of my shit, released his grip on my shoulders and snapped, "Yeah well, you were too busy avoiding us to have been much of a help so it's too late for that."

The moment the words left his lips, my head whipped to the right so that I was looking at him with an immense amount of hate in my eyes, while guilty tears began to crowd around, leaning on my bottom eyelid for the support they needed to stay hidden.

"Shit, Kat I'm so sorry. I didn't mean that, serious. It's just been really hard on us. On me. I've had to deal with Uncle Jack feeling alone and bitter because his brother was dead and his niece was avoiding him and he couldn't do anything about it. I had to deal with the questions and the lies we were coming up with, and the story had to be foolproof. And on top of that, you were ignoring me and I didn't know if it was something I did or- It's just... It's been hard."

My fast reaction had enabled me to witness Jacob's unforgiving expression turn to on of realisation before gradually morphing into one of guilt at his low blow, and it gave me the knowledge that Jacob meant what he had said. However, my stubborn nature wasn't so quick in dishing out that warm plate of forgiveness.

"You don't think it's been hard on me?! My father is dead, and it's because of me. I know it, and the pack knows it. It should've been me back at the woods, not him. And fuck, I have to live with the fact that if I hadn't done anything stupid, he'd still be alive. I have to live with the fact that people know that he could still be alive. I have to live with the fact that I took away Uncle Jack's only brother.

"You think you're having it bad? I can't even look in the mirror without having my father's face haunt me. I can't even look at Uncle Jack without seeing a man who didn't have to die. I can't even look at the pack without being reminded that my dad was a part of people's lives. You want to know why I'm avoiding you? Because I'm trying so hard to remind myself that my father's dead, to believe it. I'm trying to forget that he had a life outside of me. I'm trying to numb that remorse of having so abruptly ending my father's life," I hissed at him, wiping away the tears that were still precariously balancing for their life.

"I- I know, and I'm sorry. But that's why I'm asking you to stay seated: so that we can help you in the only way we know. Please? We're all concerned about you, Kat, and we don't want to put any more pressure on you than necessary. And when I say all, I mean everyone in the pack and Jack."

There was no doubt his emphasis on "everyone" was a stub at Leah's behaviour two days ago at Sam's house. And even though I knew it was probably a lie, that Leah probably still held me at fault, I felt slightly better. "You do know that if my father were around, he'd be laughing at how 'the pack' and 'Jack' rhyme, right?"

Jacob, who knew what my response meant, smiled as he stood up, "Yeah."

---

The funeral went by as a slow blur. I didn't know what had happened, but everything had been moving at too slow a pace for me. I didn't want to dwell any longer in a room so confined by grief. Not while I was trying to get over it.

Though she hadn't managed to book two tickets for a two-way trip to and from Forks airport, my mother had managed to get tickets for both Daniel and her to and from Sekiu airport completely last minute. It was with that knowledge in mind that my mother sat on my left, a weak smile filled with pride playing on her lips at the more appropriate times.

I hadn't said any farewells to my father yet; I was saving it for when his casket would be lowered into the ground. When I'd no longer see any evidence of his physical body. All I had done was reread the letter that was now moist and flimsy that my father had left behind for me.

Over, and over, and over.

Every word, every dent, every punctuation mark, it all held so much and yet, so little. They were his words, but they were merely words and nothing more.

The eulogy had been given by Sam, much to my disdain, but perhaps the pack knew what they were doing in asking me to remain seated, and getting Sam to represent me. The speech was delivered with a lot more feeling than I'd expected from Sam, and even though I'd never admit it, I was beginning to see how brilliant and apt the hit-and-run excuse was.

I learnt, from Sam's eulogy, that the full story for my father's death was that he got hit by a car, a tourist most likely, while trying to save the group of kids, tourists again, who were playing carelessly on the road. Apparently, while on his way for a hike in the woods, he noticed some kids playing on the road. And so he was just about to get them to move to the beach, when he noticed a car speeding forward. Without thinking, he stood a good distance in front of the kids who, I suppose, chose not to listen to him, going down instead of the group of children who deserved it so very much in my opinion.

It was a simple story, but I lapped it all up with no hesitation. My father was a hero, and I wanted everyone to know that, even if they couldn't know the truth.

But it wasn't just the obvious heroism in the story that had caused my sudden change of heart. It was how much that story reflected the truth. I was those little kids that hadn't listened when my father had told them to move away. I was those little kids who had truly believed they were on top of the world, and that nothing could bring them down. I was those little kids who had foolishly thought that my dangerous actions would have no consequence on me, whatsoever. I was those little kids who had deserved to die, instead of the hero. And along with the pack, I was part of the group of kids who had been saved, and given another shot at life because of someone else's generosity.

And those stupid newborn vampires were the careless assholes who had so casually ran my father over, and left him to die.

I watched, with fury boiling in every pore, as my father's casket that had been sealed shut the moment his ruined and torn body parts had been placed in was wheeled down the aisle and into the van that waited outside. And so, the journey to the cemetery began.

The journey to my final goodbye.

---

By the time we had reached the graveyard, the note was nearly memorised, and I had plainly established the fact that I didn't want to be a part of any socialising. All I wanted to do was read the note, and mourn by myself. I didn't need anyone's sympathy. I'd gone through my life without needing it, and I wasn't going to start now.

My mother, who had tried on many occasions to check if my situation was dire, had finally given up and was now reminiscing with Uncle Jack about the times they'd spent with my father growing up.

I'd thrown them a dirty look or two, but they had seriously misinterpreted the reason behind it. They thought that I felt they were taking things too quick, that it wasn't yet time to reminisce but to instead mourn. But that was no where near the truth.

I was jealous of them, plain and simple. I was jealous of them because they were lucky. In fact, everyone who was slowly making their way to the nearby graveyard was lucky. Or, luckier than me, at the very least. They had so many wonderful memories of my father, so many days filled with laughter that my father had provided.

But I didn't. And I wouldn't. I had fourteen years of his absence to prove his love for me, and I had mere days of conversation to make up for his lack of presence in my life. I had the memory of him telling me to stay put, to do nothing so that things wouldn't escalate. I had the memory of me defying his words. I had the memory of him bleeding for me. I had the memory of him being ripped apart in my place.

Refusing to show any reason for people to give me sympathy, I walked ahead faster, hiding the tears that were way overdue from anyone's sight.

And as I walked, I cried.

And as I cried, I read.

---

"Does anyone have anything to add before his body is lowered?" I heard the priest ask, and immediately felt everyone's attention on me.

I wanted to shy away, to shake my head and neglect their starving attention, but I took a deep breath and shakily stepped forward, my father's note tight in my hand.

I felt everyone's eyes follow me as I walked towards the burial ground, and with the pressure, I could feel the perspiration build up on my philtrum and on my underarms. But I nevertheless continued on, pushing away the thoughts that didn't have anything to do with my father.

Even though it only took less than a second, the four small steps I took felt like a giant leap across a canyon for me. It might've been the attention, or the anticipation of saying my thoughts out for everyone to hear, but I felt a huge relief when I finally opened my mouth.

"Hey dad. I know, I know. That was pretty inappropriate of me, but you were always a fan of inappropriate jokes, so... I guess you could laugh at that. I know I only ever got to know you properly for a week — I think? — but I was really starting to get used to having you around. No use saying that now, I guess.

"But that's not the point. The point is that you've taught me a bunch of things I need to remember, and one lesson I will never forget: You've taught me that life goes on, even when it feels like it can't and eventually, you will too. And I don't know what else I should say, except thank you. Thank you for everything. For the jokes, the comfort, the care, the love, the being there even while I went crazy, the selfless departure. Just everything.

"I guess a goodbye's in order here, but I don't really want it to be so... Hey. Dad. Did you hear the one about the cannibal who dumped his girlfriend? I really hope you're laughing right now, because I just made an idiot of myself."

Stepping back into the shadows, I didn't fail to miss the aghast expression on the priest's face, and the look of disbelief on everyone else's.

I hadn't expected anything else, really. I knew what I did was completely ridiculous, but I was finally catching onto why my father was constantly telling those lame jokes and riddles for everyone to groan at. I would never know for sure, but my guess was that my father had used those jokes as a coverup, or even a pick-me-up, for the times things were starting to become too much for him to handle.

And right at that time, with everyone waiting on me, I desperately needed a pick-me-up. Besides, what better way to remember my father than with a joke I was somewhat certain he would appreciate?

Looking directly across where I stood, I caught Uncle Jack's eye and the moment I saw the wrinkle on the corner of his eye as his lips tugged upwards in a small smile, I knew for a fact that I had made my dad so proud.

Soon after, more people began to either understand or brush what I did off as an act of rebellion, and the casket was slowly lowered into the deep hole that would be my father's final home.

I looked on quietly as some people around me began wailing from the depressing sight. Every inch the coffin was lowered, new tears would spill over my bottom eyelid, as if competing against the coffin. I hadn't paid any attention to my surroundings, so when I felt an arm snake around my waist, I looked over to my left, completely startled, but then relaxed when I realised it was only Jacob, and turned back so that I wouldn't miss the final glimpse of the coffin as it went underground.

Finally, with the loud 'thud' the priest had warned us about before that signaled the end of my father's last trip, the crowd began to thin, leaving only those who truly knew and loved my father behind.

Even then, they were beginning to retreat, the sight of their beloved Ryan Cox being buried too much to handle from right up front.

But I stood strong, with Jacob providing me the extra strength I needed to witness as more dirt gathered on the top of my father's casket.

To the surprise of everyone, including me, I stepped out of Jacob's warm touch, and into the cold depressing environment that death had so painfully brought upon us. I felt my feet move, but made no action to stop them. I heard the shouts of my name and the confused protests that came from the workers burying my father, but blocked them all out.

When I was right beside the burial, my arm didn't hesitate in lifting itself up, and then commanding my fingers to release the note I had held like a jewel. There was a moment of silence in which everyone took their time to figure out what was in that paper and why I had thrown it in, and I took that to my advantage. "I love you too, dad. Back when I said your name first, right now, and definitely forever. And just so you know, you have given me something very precious. Worth a whole lot more than the most expensive jewellery set in the world."

Before anyone had anytime to process what I had just said and done, I turned back around and returned to Jacob's side, where his arm automatically found it's place around my waist. Feeling strangely free, I closed my eyes and let a hint of a smile play on my lips.

God, it felt so good to even think about smiling after what had happened.

I didn't know how long I stood there for, but it must've been a long time because when I opened my eyes, the crowd was considerably thinner, and the burial was complete.

My father was home. Forever.

"Are you okay?" Jacob whispered in my ear, giving rise to goose pimples on the area where his breath hit my skin.

Turning to face him, I noticed, but never quite registered, that his face was a lot nearer to mine that I had ever expected. "Strangely, I'm a lot better than I thought I'd be. Thanks."

At that, a real smile formed on my lips and it stretched into a full-out grin, relieving some of the tension my cheek muscles had gone through over the past four days.

The corner of Jacob's eyes shrunk in size when he smiled in return. "You know, I was thinking about it just now. I mean, what with all the attention on... This, I never really found out. Why did you come into the woods?"

I widened my eyes in shock, having completely forgotten about everything else that had happened before my father's death, before closing it in utter embarrassment. Was this the right time? My guess was that since there would probably never be the "right time", if I told him the truth right then, it'd make things a whole lot easier. And so, that was what I did. "Um, I kinda... I figured out that I was your imprint, or you were mine, or whatever, and so I really wanted to tell you before you um, before you went to your doom."

Jacob nodded, taking it way too lightly for me to believe that he hadn't known about it before. "So you went to the woods for me."

"Yeah," I confirmed slowly, not sure if he was being slow on purpose or if he was genuinely making sure.

"So if your father, uh, you know, died because of you, and you went into the woods because of me, shouldn't I take the complete blame?"

Turning to my left to look Jacob straight in the eye, I honestly couldn't have felt any more confused at the amount of emotions that filled my body. There was no way Jacob Black was real. No. Way.

But as I looked into his beautiful brown eyes that never once faded into oblivion, I smiled at how Jacob was completely real, how nice he was being to me, how I knew I could always rely on him and with pure gratitude.

And with that surge of emotions in me, I leaned in, placed my arms around his neck, and kissed him.

---

Katherine,

Oh my God, you are such a stubborn girl. I swear, you remind me so much of Julie and that's not funny. Sometimes you really- My God.

I'm trying to rush this, but I really shouldn't because... Well, this is going to be my last letter to you. Or to anyone, really. And it needs time, right? It's got to be perfectly crafted and all that.

But what the hell. I'm going to write whatever comes to mind because you deserve that much. No. You deserve a whole lot more, and I'd give it to you if I could. I'd have given you the world, but I can't. I couldn't. I'm only a man. A broken man who'sfuc messed up so many times.

I've learnt a lot of things from Julie's death. I learnt that you can't protect everyone. That when someone's time comes, there's nothing you can do to prevent it.

I also learnt another thing: If I had to watch another loved one die with the knowledge that I could have prevented it, I wouldn't be able to carry on.

Julie must have known that when she sacrificed herself. And I know that now. I'm going to do everything I can to protect you. I'm going to-

Remember what I said last night? Or well, I don't know when you'll read this, or if you'll even read this, so I guess I mean on the night you- How apt. When I say "last night", I don't mean the previous night. I mean the night you last saw me. (Even on what's probably a farewell note I crack myself up. Come on, Kat. You have to admit that was pretty funny. I've got a sense of humor made of pure gold. Pure gold) I told you I couldn't do anything to help you.

But I can now. And I'm going to do it. I know it's going to hurt you. It's never nice seeing someone you love die, trust me. But I'm hoping that it won't hurt you as bad as it did me because you only got to know me properly a few days ago.

I don't know if it'll work, but I really don't care anymore. You have got far more to live for than I do, and I'll be damned if I let you die instead of me.

Katherine, I mean it when I say this: I love you. Everything I've done (I'm really only referring to my leaving you, but you've always been on my mind) was for you. And I do this in hopes that you will one day understand why I had to do it. I do this in hopes that you will have the life I always wanted you to have. I do this in hopes that you will forgive me for ever leaving you.

I can't give you the world, but I can give you your life, and hopefully you'll take over the world while you're alive (see? Pure, solid gold). But even if you don't, I'll be up in heaven looking down on you with so much pride, that no one would be able to get near me without first having to deflate my huge ego.

Please don't cry for me, sweetie. I've got nothing more to live for. Nothing except for you. And I know what it's boiling down to here: It's me or you. No way in hell am I letting thosefucking damn vampires touch you, so it's got to be me.

I'm sorry I couldn't have been a better father. I'm sorry for ever putting you through all this shit. I didn't want any of this for you, believe me. I wanted you to grow up in this blissful state of ignorance to this stupid world of vampires and werewolves.

I really hope this makes up for everything I've done, for everything I've put you through. And just know that- Wow. I entered your life by leaving you, and I'm leaving your life by leaving you. Huh.

Whatever. That wasn't the point. The point is that I love you. I love you so, so much.

And I've got to do this. I wouldn't be able to carry on if I lost you too. Not on my watch.

Please, honey. Don't cry. Well, okay, if you want to, you can. But don't blame yourself for anything. Don't youfucki dare put this on yourself. If I could have, I would've done the same for Julie all those years back. You did what you had to, and I'm doing what I have to. No, no, I want to do this. I'm going to do this, and I'm going to see Julie on the other side.

And I'm going to introduce her to my beautiful daughter, and explain to her how you came about. She might kill me (solid gold! I never fail), but I'm already dead so what's the worst that could happen, right?

There's nothing more that I can give you except for thi- Oh. I've got to have a will. I don't have much, but everything I own goes to you. Of course it does. I wish I had something a lot more precious to give you, but I don't and well... Bummer, huh?

It doesn't matter, I guess. There's no time for me to feel bad about not leaving you with more. I've really got to speed this up.

Okay so where was I? Right. Katherine, promise me that you'll explain everything to Jack. He deserves to know. He's been through so much shit with me, he just... Tell him the truth, and not the lie the pack's going to come up with.

And for Jess and Daniel, wish them all the best for me. You can tell the truth to Jess, or you could lie. Either way, just take care of her.

As for you, please please please. Take care of yourself. Do everything you want to, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Live like there's no tomorrow, even though I sincerely hope there always is. Study hard and all of that, but don't forget to live. You've only got one life, and there's no use wasting it on silly regrets like I did. Impulsive decisions may seem to be a little too adventurous, but if that's what you want, go for it. Don't ever stop yourself.

I promise I'll always be up there looking down on you, so say hi once in a while. Or, well, say hi as often as you can. It's always nice having your daughter talk to you, and I'm guessing it's going to be the same even once I'm gone.

So I guess this is it. There's really nothing more I can say or give you. If I don't make it out alive, in which case I probably won't, don't beat yourself up about it. In fact, never beat yourself up at all. If it's my time, then it's my time. I'll go without a fight. We all have to leave sometime.

I love you Katherine. So so much.

-Your father.

P/S, I've crossed out the swearing, so there's no excuse for you to be running around cursing everyone you see. I might be dead, but I'm still a father, and you'll get your punishment somehow.

And please, Katherine. Jacob and you might be imprints, but that doesn't mean you have to rush into anything. Take things slow. Very slow. I'm ALWAYS watching. Just thought I'd remind you.