White Space Season 2

last time he’d seen her, she was gray and lifeless. Now, her death was glossed with make-up, painted to look like a sleeping child who might wake at any moment. A horrible lie, teasing a future that would never be.
    “Two months ago,” Jon said, staring out at the crowd, “I didn’t know I had a daughter. I won’t bore you with details — I’m sure the gossip apps have done that plenty already. Until last month, I had no idea Emma Marie Hughes was my daughter. I came here when her mother Sarah was senselessly taken from her.”
    “I’m not sure how well you can truly know someone in a month, but it does seem that Emma and I managed the remarkable by fitting many years of nothing into a month of wonderful somethings. I’ve spent the last weeks watching my daughter with wonder, from trying to memorize all the presidents and first ladies so she could recite them in order — for no other reason than to say she did — to making up new recipes to tickle and torture my tummy, with no way of knowing which it would be until the fork was in my mouth.”
    “In all my life I’ve never seen a creature so sweet. Until a month ago, I was living, and thought I was alive. Then Emma entered my world, and I finally saw what it meant to truly love someone with those parts of your heart so rarely used that the brain fooled you into forgetting they were there.”
    “To love someone so much that you would surrender all that made you you , just to make them happy, and gladly fall on any sword that might threaten them. That you would do anything … ”
    Jon paused, found his breath, then finished.
    “Thank you, Emma, for allowing me into your world. For not hating me. For reminding me what it is like to be a child, and more importantly, what it means to live and love.
    “Thank you, Emma. We will all miss you more than you can ever know. And though I’ve never been much of a believer, I hope and pray to see you in heaven.”
    “I love you, Emma.”
    Jon closed his eyes, fighting tears. He walked without stumbling — against the odds — back to his seat, where Cassidy was waiting with open arms. He fell inside them as Vivian leaned over and dabbed her eyes with a kerchief.
    “That was beautiful, Jon.”
    “Thank you,” he said to Vivian, still fighting tears. “I hope she thought so, too.”

    **

    Following the service, churchgoers were led outside into the hall so family members could say their final goodbyes in private before driving to the cemetery for Emma’s burial.
    Jon, Cassidy, and Vivian stayed behind, as did Mrs. Lindley, clueless that she wasn’t wanted. As Vivian and Mrs. Lindley traded stories about Emma, Blake leaned over toward Jon and Cassidy and offered his hand to Cassidy.
    She took it, muffling her certain revulsion. Blake said, “I’m sorry for your loss, Cassidy. Emma was a beautiful, and a thoroughly happy, child who will be missed.”
    Cassidy’s eye twitched. She said, “Thank you,” then cleared her throat, added, “I think I’d like to pay my last respects,” then went to the front of the church.
    Jon watched as Cassidy leaned down to kiss Emma, then collapsed into tears. He thought about going up to the casket and giving her comfort, then thought better, knowing she would want both space and privacy.
    “I’m sorry, Son,” Blake said.
    “Yeah,” Jon said, suddenly craving the fight he had put off a week before, desperate to rip into Father; blame him for everything. Yet, as Jon saw Cassidy crying over Emma’s body, he felt a stronger desire to safeguard the moment’s sanctity, and not embarrass Emma’s memory with a stupid and unnecessary fight.
    Jon was itching to set things straight once and for all with Blake, but surely it could wait.
    Melinda said, “How are you holding up?”
    “We’re doing the best we can,” Jon said, hating funeral small talk even more than celebrity party gossip. He would probably have to hear another hundred “I’m sorries” and bullshit about how “She’s in a better place” from people outside wishing him comfort but offering nothing but sorrow instead.
    Warren had given Jon a nearly silent “I’m sorry” when he and Melinda first arrived. Now he said, “Jon, we’re doing a press conference tomorrow afternoon. Conway Medical Center is building a new psychiatric ward in memory of the people who recently lost their lives.”
    “Um, OK,” Jon said, wondering why in the hell Warren was bringing up business, other than the obvious