Speech |a.f.i au|

2.9

"Alright, Rene, you're up," my English teacher says, oddly enthusiastically. I can't begin to explain how sweaty my hands are or how my throat feels like I've swallowed a desert. My heart is pounding as if a timpani was mocking it, I can feel the pulsating reaching my brain, and my legs feel so numb, almost as if they're about to give out on me. 

"Breathe," Abbey reminds me, giving me a sympathetic smile. I make my way to the front of the classroom. I take a deep breath before I turn away from the whiteboard and meet the eyes of my peers. 

I look back and meet with Luke's and he gives me a small smile, putting both his thumbs up. His eyes practically beg for me not to freak out. 

I could have never given this speech, I couldn't even do it at my own father's funeral. 

It wasn't until last night, my mom came into my room. We discussed Ashton's reaction and everyone's reaction to me saying I was going to Arizona State University. Then we talked about dad. 

My mom suggested that I held on to my father's death because I never fully got closure. It wasn't closure like accepting the way he died or anything, or not going to the funeral. It wasn't something anyone could fix, it was something that I had to fix on my own. 

I never got the courage to speak at my father's funeral. Not just because I'd burst into tears at any moment, but because I didn't know how to feel. It's been months, and though my dad will not see me graduate, I've noticed that I had to keep trying because I know that's exactly just what he'd want. 

I wrote my first eulogy when I was around fourteen or fifteen. My father was actively deployed, and we had not heard from him in months. Thankfully he was alive, but I remember what it felt like. We waited for someone with a folded flag to show at our door and each day was just another guessing game, another prayer, another "what if"? 

No one ever read the eulogy and I never told anyone I wrote it either. It was something for just me and my dad, hoping that somewhere in the world he'd know how highly I thought of him. 

One more deep breath, in and out. I think to myself. 

"My dad, like most girls, he was my hero, my first hero," I gulped, I could feel my eyes welling up with tears. "My dad wasn't just my hero, he was a hero to many other people whom I've met and some I haven't. 

"This man, this man I call my dad, he once helped lift a car that got totaled on the railroad track. He's saved a dog from drowning in the lake that had frozen over in the winter of 2006,

"My dad was the best man around in my eyes. He was a hero, a soldier, a warrior, a lover, and a fighter. He was a strong-headed, stubborn man, but he was also goofy, kind, and giving,

"Everyone tells me what a great man my dad was, but they don't have to. I knew. I always knew. My father was a complicated man, but with good intentions. He always reminded me that whatever I felt, it was valid. That it was okay to be vulnerable. 

"My dad, he pushed me beyond my limits, told me that if I tried as hard and as best as I could, I would go beyond myself. 

"If I've taken anything away from this pain, from this experience, then it's the Value of Life. There is no price tag, no amount of money that will give you more time than you've already been given. A wise person once said, "This is the youngest we're ever going to, but today is the oldest you've ever been,"

"We take so much for granted. It isn't that we take people for granted, yet we do, but more so, we take time for granted. We aren't given an assigned date of death, that we have marked in our calendars," as each word came out of my mouth, my mind flashed to Ashton. 

"I've chosen to exist my entire life, preparing myself for death and being paranoid by the world. I've forgotten what it meant to live, and now that I know, I'm ready to live." I took in a sharp breath and my eyes met with Abbey's, she gave me a nod before applauding. 

I walk back to my seat, put my phone in my backpack before swinging it over my shoulder and grab my water bottle off the desk, heading towards the door.

"Where are you going?" My English teacher asks. I turn my head and give him a smile. 

"To go live." 

I ran to Ashton's house, which was a run but I could feel the blood pumping through my veins. I was too happy to care.

I knock on the front door of Ashton's house, hoping he'd answer. I drop my backpack on the ground and set my water bottle down. When I stand up, the door opens and Ashton appears. 

"Rene?" 

"I love you,"