A week after Will’s accident, the entire town turned out for a pep rally parade down main street and a celebration of life service in the high school gym, put on by several of his old high school teammates, several teachers, and two of his old team mothers. They had insisted. There was a slide show of Will and his family and friends shown on the main wall that started out with laughs and cheers, and ended with quiet and tears. Three of his high school teammates, along with bubbly Becky Spahn, his best friend in school, shared memories, and then Principal Mall spoke, who cheered Will as a good student and a positive man. Before Pastor Walker closed with a word and a prayer, the running back coach from OU took the podium to great applause and a few late jeers from Colorado fans trying to recover a joyful environment, and the coach talked about Will’s work ethic, his emphasis on healthy habits, his enthusiasm for his teammates, winning, and the game. Most of all, though, Will was a family man, he said. “He made family wherever he went.” And the gym sat quiet under the weight of those words until a smattering of claps bloomed into an ovation.

Will’s mother and father sat on a riser near the stage with the podium, and exchanged smiles and sad faces and nods of acknowledgment.

Colin sat up in the far corner of the top bleachers with Matt, and breathed shallow breaths and wiped his eyes.

At the end of the assembly, Will’s dad went to the mic and gave everyone, from Coach Carls coming all the way out from the U with his wife Glenda, to the student speakers, to Principal Mall and Pastor Walker, and Mrs. Vanderlorn and Ms. Sieger and the kids who helped put everything together “for Will- our boy Will…” A deep swallow.

“.. thank you, from the bottom of our hearts.”

After the rally, Colin and his parents went home to change for the funeral and the procession to the cemetery west of town. Colin’s aunt and uncle from Pennsylvania were still driving in, sidetracked by bad weather along the way. Neither of his two cousins from back east could come out for the funeral.

Colin and his parents nodded and smiled through the services. The ladies from Colin’s mom’s work brought the family a week’s worth of food after the internment.

That evening, Colin’s mom went to bed early. Colin’s dad wandered quietly through the house, rubbing the back of his neck a lot, as though he had just misplaced something, but he couldn’t remember what. When Colin came out to the kitchen to get a glass of juice, his Dad, a large, solid man, almost walked into him wheeling into the room. They looked into each others eyes for a brief moment, acknowledging the icy gulf, the gaping hole, that sat before them all without needing to say anything. Colin’s dad reached out and put his forearms over his son’s shoulders, and began to slowly nod his head up and down before he spoke.

“Well… that’s how it goes, I guess…”

Colin froze when his dad broke the eyelock and looked down to his left.

“I love you, Pa.”

His dad lifted his left hand up from Colin’s shoulder and rubbed his neck, his head still askance. He looked back at Colin again, in a determined gaze, and with his right hand, patted and gripped his son’s bicep. “We’ll get through this. We’ll get through this together.” He stood for a long moment, holding his son’s arm, and then he turned and rubbing the back of his neck still, left the kitchen and headed out to the garage.

Colin went into his room, put on his brother’s jersey, turned out the light, and went to bed, and stared up at where the ceiling once was, up into the darkness, for several timeless hours.