Disclaimer: Don't sue, they're not mine. If you sue, you can have my flea-bitten cat Monster, who is in DIRE need of a flea shampooing. So, if you really want him, feel free. You can pay my bills too, because if you sue, I won't have the money to pay them.
WARNING: I've been told that this wee little ditty is a tear jerker. At least that's what Shallan told me. Graywulf told me as well, that it made her eyes tear up. So, if you like, have a tissue ready by your keyboard. Other wise, enjoy!! Per usual, feedback would be GREATLY appreciated. Flame me, and I'll just take out the fire hose and douse it. Lets be mature and reasonable here. ;-D
Thanx 2 and Dedications: Wolfpup for housing me in this wonderful den of hers. Rona, a.k.a. WonderBeta, for being an inspiration. Graywulf for taking the first look, and Lila The Pester Queen, for putting her two cents in. To all of the other writers here in the den with me, thanks for supplying me with plenty of fodder for rainy days! Bless you all. Thanks to Spirit with imbuing me with the gracious gift of being able to write fanfic. Though sometimes I really wish I'd also been gifted with the ability to stamp out incessant plot bunnies. ;D
Anna Rennie-Clark
I can still remember the way he smiled. Like he was using not only his whole mouth, but his whole heart and soul too. And the way his eyes sparkled, the blue orbs like one of a kind precious jewels. His laughter still rings in my ears. And still makes my heart ache.
Its been nearly a year now, since he died. Since the last breath left his old lungs, as the last gray lock of curly hair settled on his forehead and never rose by his breath again. Still now I want to cry, grieve and sob and be inconsolable. But I've had far too much practice. First my father,then years later Naomi, Simon, Joel, Mable, even Rhonda, in that awful accident. The only ones of our group still surviving are the younger ones; Megan, Rafe, Brown, and Daryl, and their children of course.
Its ironic actually, now that I think of it. The little boy that Sandburg always coached, encouraged, helped, taught, and loved like a brother.... now police chief. Daryl's middle daughter, Hannah, is captain. The captain of Major Crimes. The third generation leader of our group. Henri and Megan's oldest granddaughter, Erika, and Rafe and Rhonda's eldest great-grandson, Markus, are now the next generations of young detectives. It makes me smile. It also makes me think that Blair would be glad that something is making me happy again.
Back to Blair again. Back to my reminiscing. I wish I could do this with the kid here, watch his gray-white curls swing as he animatedly talked to his grandchildren, giving them impromptu lectures on the strangest variety of things. But they ate it up. Every last word. And so did I, even though for the last sixty-one years I had heard most of the same thing more than once. If I were to put together all of the things that I've heard from him over the last six decades, I could fill a truck load of encyclopedias. And then some.
But enough about me, now. I think I'm going to stop rambling on about my woes and call up Ceralynn, out of five kids my only granddaughter, and see if she can't drive me to the graveyard. These old bones aren't much in shape for driving, even though my eyes are still as sharp. I want to go because there's this beautiful wolf painting I found at the flea market the other day. I really think Blair would like it.
Hang in there, Chief, I'm on my way.
The End