Daddy Unknown

Epilogue

IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE AT THE END OF THIS CHAPTER

----------------------------------

5 years later

Moira could barely see through the unshed tears that blurred her vision as she clasped her sons' hands. People passed by, politely offering them their condolences. But all she could do in reply was nod and hope to god it'd all be over soon.

She'd been to funerals before, but never to one of a person so close to her heart. Moira had never had to say goodbye to someone she loved more than herself. The intense feeling of grief made her feel numb all over, like she was floating a small distance away and looking down on herself, silently observing the sadness in her eyes and the heaviness of her soul.

The ceremony had been equally heart-breaking as beautiful. They were remembering the life of a person who had died, it really was no wonder the ambiance in the church was tense -with speeches from Moira herself, Cassie, a poem written by Ollie and a song sung by the boys.

On her left side, sat Dorian, who's 3-years of age made him their youngest son. He held his mother's hand tightly as he gazed around the church with no clue of what was going on. He knew his grandma Emmie had gone to heaven, though not the precise definition of a funeral. Moira ought it better that way. Ignorance is bliss.

Like all the other kids, safe for Ollie, Dorian too had been an accident. But either way, they were all priceless gifts. Dorian was probably the funniest of the bunch, with his starling green eyes and everlasting smile. He'd laugh at the silliest of things and find the positive side in the darkest of situations. He was their little sunshine.

Next to Dorian was the now 8-year-old Ollie seated, looking like he could handle all the pressure in the world as he constantly handed his grandma Cassie tissues to dry her tears. Through the years, he'd grown into a very intelligent, mature young boy. He was rather shy, the opposite of what he was like as a toddler, but a bright kid nonetheless. And very creative, unlike his brothers. He'd rather draw and read books than go outside to play with his friends. Hence why he'd written a poem for his grandmother, an extremely beautiful work at that, and when he was finished reading it aloud his parents had been soaring with pride.

On Moira's right side, sat the twins. Noah had both his hands laced with two other hands. Mommy held his left hand to give him the typical motherly support while Gabriel clasped the other. Gabe was four minutes older than his brother and surprisingly, he acted like it. He'd always watch out for Noah, whether it was when crossing the street, putting his floaties on before going in the pool or telling him to be careful when drinking a hot cup of chocolate milk.

It was adorable, really, seeing them grow into two entirely different boys. Noah was rebellious, carefree and impulsive, while Gabriel tended to act more sensible, reserved and protective of his brother. Their parents had always made it a point to treat them like two unique individuals, which they were. They had the special connection only twins were able to have, yes. But just because they were identical twins, did not mean they were identical on the inside. Moira and Harry never dressed them the same or assumed they like the same food, toys, etcetera, nor did they always treat them the same. Simply because Noah needed a much firmer hand than his brother did.

Suddenly, the sound of shuffling feet resounded nearby, and seconds later, Harry handed Moira their four-month-old daughter as he occupied the spot next to her and settled Dorian down on his lap.

"False alarm, there was just a little pee. She probably farted." He said, hoping his comment would blossom a smile -to no avail. With an expressionless face, Moira stared down at their sleepy baby girl. Her little mouth opened as she yawned and whereas every other person would have aww'd at the sight, his wife continued to have that same, blank look in her eyes.