By then, Penelopie had made her self comfortable and had glued her eyes to the Barbie and the Nuttcracker. I didn't want her to run out their so I just ignored the urge to jump up and get the door, and remained calm.
They were big men. I could tell, by the way their voices were. They probably worked for the cops, or FBI or something. They had voices that boomed like thunder, but as soft as a mouse. I knew emediatly something was wrong. I wanted to cry, but had to be strong. Worst feeling ever.
When I heard the thunder of the voices, in a low mouse like murmur, I wanted to go eavesdrop so bad, but I also didn't want to hear what those men had to say. I could tell there was two, because of the change in the voices. One sounded younger, maybe barely thirty. The other sounded a bit older. Maybe in his fiftys.
I heard my mother, sobbing, and sniffing. She was blowing her nose in some napkins. The murmuring continued. Of both my mother, and my family, also the two men. After a little bit of silent murming, I heard a shriek than a sobbing sound, from everybody in the room except for the two men.
Penelopie heard, and took her starstruck eyes of the small television and ran out of the room. That pretty much gave me permission to go out there too. I ran out after Penelopie. When I get their, I saw my grandmother, holding my frail mother who was now crying frantically, and the men were standing by the front door of the small living room, holding their hands in front of them.
I saw the sympathetic look on both their eyes. But, they delt with this alot I could tell. But they remained calm and patient. I heard my mother sob out
"He's dead. He's gone! He's dead!" She let out more sobs, tears gushing down her face, her eyes getting red around the beautiful light blue color they normally are. Her hair was pulled up in a messed up ponytail, and she was still in her Victoria's secret pajamas. Her cheeks were red and raw, from all of the salty tears that ran down her face.
Penolopie, started to cry.
"What's the matter mommy?" She sobbed. We have never seen her like this.
I cried also. I couldn't hold it in any longer. The two big men in their black coats, and nice ties looked up at me. The younger one, gave me a look of complete and totally sympathy. He's gone. My daddy. Gone. I looked at them with hopeful eyes, and they nodded in aproval. They knew my question. See, we had our own private conversation, and I knew exactly what was said, and confirmed. My father was dead.
The funeral.
Last chapter.
It was all over the news, on what had happened. It had been a confirmed terrorist attack, and many people had been confirmed dead, if not dead in critical condition. Who ever survived that attack, might have been one of the luckiest person or persons in the United States. Some of the survivors, my dad had saved. Risking his own life, for those people. Now that, is my definition of a hero.
My dad had a great spirit. He loved to play around with me and Penelopie. He loved to build things, and also to help people. He was in training for becoming a firefighter, his office job was to "boring" for him.He was like me, an adrenaline junkie. He loved to mess up his beach blonde hair, and he always smelt like car oil. His T-shirts always had oil stains on them from working on cars, or fixing up the dark blue GO-kart.
I looked at myself on my wall mirror. My blonde hair, was in tight blonde curls, ringleting around my head like a halo. I had soft makeup on, and my favorite light pink high heels. My dress, was more of a darker pink with fushia. It had a braided twist tie around my waist, and some ruffles along the neck, and the bottom line. It was all a solid fushia.
My cheeks, were pinkened with a little bit of blush, and my blue eyes stood out with all of the mascara that I had caked on to my eyelashes. It was water proof of course, my mom went out and bought some at the local grocery store.
I stepped out of the car that all of the other family was in. I smiled fakely and said soft "Thank you's" as my family members complimented my appearence, and tried to make small talk. My little sister Penelopie, was wearing her hair, in tight braided pig tails, perfectly woven not a single trace of hair or frizz sticking out. She had her Hello Kitty lipgloss on, and no makeup. Her dress was a dark violet. Completely made out of soft silk. It was her favorite dress. She was wearing black Mary Jane's, and had black and purple bows in her hair, attached to the top of her braids. She looked sad, and wasn't very talkfull. Not like her. My mother was most elegant of all. She had a full length black silk dress. That really showed her beautiful figure. She too had soft makeup on, and her blue eyes, shown like the sea. She looked stunning.
We all put in our fake act's in front of the big crowd, and sat. The funeral began.
I wanted to cry. But I knew I had to be strong. Worse feeling ever.
