I Know You ~ J.Seresin

44

Death. It's something that sneaks up on everyone. No matter how prepared you are, you are never really ready when it happens. Especially to someone you love and care about so deeply. When death does happen it makes it hard to believe that it's possible. That seemed to be the case for Bradley and Maverick. But more so for Tate.

She stood there with a straight face in her black and white uniform. Her form was straight and her chest was out. Tate held her composure as the guns went off, the trumpet played, and his flag was folded.

Her eyes were red and she held her tears back. Tate had cried all night and all day. She cried due to her father's passing but also due to how rushed his funeral was.

She was told just nearly 24 hours ago that he father had passed and now here she stood before him in a casket, trying to not cry some more. But every second was hard. Her throat burned.

Tom Kazansky was gone.

Her Admiral was gone.

Her father was gone.

It was something she still couldn't wrap her mind around. Probably something she would never wrap her mind around.

Not only was her father gone, but so was Bradley's second father.

Bradley stood right next to Tate as he watched her from his peripheral. He watched her pursed her lips and hold back her tears. His father died at a young age and it hurt him. But he couldn't imagine losing his father at the age he was at right now.

Well, of course, he did lose his father at this age. But if it was Goose, he would understand her pain completely.

Tom was there from the second she was born to the last time he talked to her. He listened to all of her problems, and he gave her advice. He held her when she cried and she held him when he cried about all her accomplishments.

Bradley grabbed Tate's hand and interlocked his fingers with hers. He squeezed her hand, giving her reassurance.

Tate squeezed his back as a thank you.

She felt so stiff in her uniform. It had been a while since she had worn it. She wished they didn't wear their black ones.

Tom always preferred the white ones. He used to say it was because they were icy. Like him.

And because he felt like he looked great in white.

As the trumpet played, and the guns went off, Maverick approached Tom's closed casket. Jets flew overhead as he took the pin and placed it on.

He was once again saying goodbye to his best friend.

Maverick buried one nearly 30 years ago. Here he was again, burying another. Both of their children stood next to each other, biting their cheeks to stop them from crying.

Maverick felt alone.

Completely alone.

As Maverick slams his fist on the pin, pushing it into the casket, the guns fire once more. He raises his hand, saluting his wingman.

He too held back his tears as he looked at the sky.

He lost his WSO and he lost his Wingman. But the two of them were racing in the sky like it was intended for them.

As Maverick lowers his hand he looks at all the aviators standing at attention. Bradley had let a few tears roll down his face as the trumpet subsided and the guns had silenced.

Tate still held her back, refusing to let anyone see her cry while at attention.

Jake stood behind the two friends as he took steady breaths. He felt sorry for both of them. Bradley had now lost two fathers and Tate lost the one she had known all her life.