Chapter 6: Echoes in the Void
The morning after that porch talk dawned cold and gray, like the sky knew something heavy was coming. Darren woke slowly, stretching in his bed with a faint smile lingering from Dad's words, fight for your place, carve it out. He'd dreamed light for once, not asteroids crashing but stars aligning neat, paths clear. Clock said 7:15, later than usual for a Thursday, but school could wait a minute. Downstairs smelled of no coffee brewing, no clatter of Mom's pans. Quiet too quiet.
" Mom? Em?" he called, padding down stairs in socks. The living room is empty, and the kitchen too. Then he heard soft sobbing from his parent's room. Heart skipped, he pushed the door open slowly. Mom hunched on the bed edge, face buried in hands, shoulders shaking. Emily curled beside her, eyes red swollen, clutching a pillow. And Dad... Dad lay still on his side of bed, eyes closed peacefully like sleeping. But too still. No chest rising, no snoring.
"Dad?" Darren whispered, stepping closer. Mom looked up, face wrecked with tears, pulling him into a fierce hug.
"He's gone, honey. In his sleep... just gone."
World tilted. Darren froze, staring at Mike's pale face, same as yesterday, smiling faintly on the porch.
"What? No... he was fine. We talked last night. Fine!"
The doctor later said the heart gave out complications from accident, blood clot or something snuck up quietly. Rehab masked it, but the body was worn down. Autopsy pending, but didn't matter. Dad was dead. Fifty-two, grease hands stilled forever.
The house plunged into a blur. Mom called relatives, voice cracking each time. Emily wandered like a ghost, hugging Dad's flannel shirt. Darren? Numb at first, helping where he could, answering the door for neighbors bringing casseroles, nodding at sympathies. Inside, a storm built. Why? Chat replayed: life doesn't go our way, fight anyway. Cruel joke Dad fought, won rehab, then snatched it.
Funeral preps rushed: arrangements at local parlor, casket picked simple oak like Dad would've wanted no fancy. Wake Friday evening, folks from town filling the hall with whispers and hugs. Mike in suit, hands folded, looking wrong without grease stains. Darren stood by, shaking hands mechanical, eyes burning dry. Alex and Lisa came early, Alex awkward in tie, Lisa with flowers.
"Sorry man," Alex mumbled, fist bump weak.
"He was cool. Taught me oil change once."
Lisa hugged him. "Anything, Darren. We're here."
But words bounced off. Nothing pierced the fog.
Burial Saturday morning, sky heavy with clouds threatening rain. Cemetery on a hill overlooking fields Dad loved driving through. Procession slow, cars winding up dirt roads. Casket carried by uncles and garage buddies, Darren at front feeling weight crush his shoulders. Pastor Jenkins' old family friend waited at the grave, Bible open, wind flipping' pages.
The family gathered close: Mom in black dress, veil hiding tears; Emily clutching' her hand, small sobs escaping. Darren in a borrowed suit too tight, staring at a hole dug deep six feet, they say, but felt bottomless. Alex and Lisa off to side with other kids from school, faces solemn. Brock even showed, hanging back awkward maybe guilt, or just town custom.
Pastor cleared throat, voice carrying over wind.
"We gather to commend Mike Hayes to the Lord's care. A good man, husband, father, mechanic who fixed more than cars he mended hearts. Scripture says, 'The Lord gives, the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name.' Mike lived full, loved fiercely. Let us pray."
Heads bowed, words mumbled: eternal rest, comfort mourning. Darren's lips moved but no sound mind screaming questions. Why Dad? Fine yesterday, laughing about the tractor. Porch swing creaking, stars watching'. Life's curves? This was a cliff.
Casket lowered slowly on ropes, dirt clods tumbling in. Thud soft at bottom. Mom wailed quietly, Emily burying face in a skirt. Rain started then drizzled first, then pouring sheets cold and relentless. Folks scattered to cars, umbrellas popping.But Darren stayed rooted, rain soaking hair, suit clinging.
"No," he muttered. "Can't be."
Alex approached, an umbrella offered. "Come on, man. You'll freeze."
Darren shook head, tears mixing with rain finally. Voice rose raw: "Why did you leave me Dad? Wait,no, why'd you leave? You were fine yesterday! Fine, Dad! Why do you have to go? I was gonna be successful, have you by my side. Nothing can console me now,how can I live in a world without my father?..."
Words tumbled desperately, echoing over graves. Mom turned back, eyes pleading but he waved her on.
"Go home. Need... minute."
Lisa tried too, hand on arm. "Darren..."
But he pulled away gently, kneeling in mud by the grave. Rain pounded, world blur. Alex and Lisa lingered awkwardly, then left with the crowd can't console the inconsolable. Alone now, Darren rocked, fists in dirt.
"Promised you'd teach more. Garage, stars... why?"
Hours? Minutes? Time lost. Finally stood shaking, mud-caked, trudging to the car where the family waited silently. Drove home wordless, rain lashing windows like accusations.
The house felt empty, echoes where Dad's laugh used to fill. Relatives bustled food out, stories shared trying cheer. But Darren slipped upstairs, locked the door with a click final. Room dark, curtains drawn. Collapsed on bed, star posters mocking from walls. Dreams? Pointless now. Dad gone, hole gaped.
Days blurred locked away. Mom knocked soft, "Honey, eat something." Tray left outside untouched. Emily whispered through the keyhole,
"Miss you, Dare."
But he stayed in a curled, blanket cocoon. Sleep fitful, dreams of Dad alive porch talks endless, garage engines roaring,Wake to reality punch.
School was excused, but homework piled ignored.
Alex texted, "Dude, open up? Brought drone parts".
Lisa,Grief group? Or just talk? Ignored all, phone on silent. The world outside faded, grief consuming. Why fight? Dad did, lost anyway.
Night's worst stargazing through the window, tears silent. Universe vast, indifferent. Asteroid dreams returned twisted: now Dad floating in void, unreachable.
"Carve your place," echoed mocked.
Week in, Mom forced the door with a spare key.
"Enough, Darren. He'd hate this."
Pulled him to shower, food down throat. But eyes hollow, spark dimmed.
Slowly, cracks Emily sneaking in, cuddling silent. Mom sharing Dad's old letters love notes from dating days.
"He fought for us," she said teary. "Honor that."
Friends persisted: Alex dropping comics, Lisa baking cookies.
Kayla even messaged, "Heard about your dad. Sorry. Coffee when ready?".
Grief ebbed slowly, waves crashing less fierce. Darren emerged bit by bit in the garage first, tools cold but familiar. Fixed neighbor's mower, hands shaking but steadying. School returned hesitant, friends buffering stares.
Months later, acceptance crept. Dad's words anchor, life twists, fight on. Applied to uni fierce, essay raw with loss.
"Stars call, but ground teaches," he wrote.
Burial rain memory scarred, but fueled. Lock-up days dark, but birthed resolve. The universe waited, Dad watching from the stars.
Family bonded tighter, Mom smiling more, Emily's laughs returning Garage sign: Hayes & Son, even without him.
Darren telescoped nights, whispering updates: "Fighting, Dad. For my place."
Void echoed back silent, but comforting.