CHAPTER 15

Tomorrow was my mom's funeral, and I couldn't believe it. The thought of saying goodbye to her was unbearable.

The funeral was held at St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York City, and it was packed with important people from all over the city. Business leaders, politicians, and celebrities came to pay their last respects to my mom, the CEO of MK Technology.

As I walked into the cathedral, I was greeted by a sea of somber faces. The pews were filled with people dressed in black, their heads bowed in respect.

The altar was adorned with white flowers, and a large portrait of my mom sat atop a pedestal, surrounded by candles.

My mom's casket was at the front of the cathedral, covered in a white cloth with gold trim. It was hard to believe that she was really gone.

I felt a lump form in my throat as I approached the casket, my heart heavy with grief.

The service began, and people started to speak about my mom's accomplishments and legacy.

They talked about how she had built MK Technology into one of the most successful companies in the world, and how she had inspired countless people with her leadership and vision.

My dad, the Vice CEO of MK Technology, spoke about my mom's love and dedication to the company.

He talked about how she had inherited the company from my grandfather, the late Mr. Julius Caesar, and how she had worked tirelessly to build it into what it was today.

But my dad also spoke about my mom's personal life, about how she had married him for love despite her parents' disapproval.

He talked about how she had always put family first, and how she had been an amazing mother and wife.

As the service came to a close, people started to file out of the cathedral to pay their respects to my mom.

I stood by the casket, shaking hands and receiving condolences from the mourners.

It was a surreal experience, but I knew that my mom would have wanted me to be strong. I looked around at the crowd of people, and I knew that she had touched so many lives.

After the funeral, we headed to the cemetery for the burial. It was a cold and rainy day, but that didn't stop people from coming out to pay their respects.

The grave was surrounded by a sea of umbrellas, and people stood in silence as the casket was lowered into the ground.

As I threw a rose into the grave, I felt a sense of closure. My mom was gone, but she would never be forgotten.

As I stood by my dad's side, I watched as a steady stream of people came to offer their condolences.

They would introduce themselves, mentioning the company they represented and the family they belonged to, before expressing their sorrow and sympathy.

"Mr. and Miss Reginald, I'm John Smith from Smith & Co. We're deeply sorry for your loss. Your mother was an incredible leader and inspiration."

"My condolences to you and your family, Mr. Reginald. I'm Jane Doe from the Doe Foundation. Your mother's legacy will live on through her remarkable achievements."

"Mr. Reginald. I'm Michael Brown from Brown Industries. We're heartbroken to hear about your wife's passing. She was a true pioneer and innovator."

As the condolences continued, I noticed a pattern. Each person would mention their company or family name, as if to emphasize their connection to my mother's business world.

It was as if they were paying respects not just to my mother, but also to the empire she had built.

My dad, ever the gracious host, would nod and thank each person, his eyes red-rimmed from tears.

I could see the weight of his grief bearing down on him, but he stood tall, supporting me as I struggled to come to terms with my loss.

As the crowd began to disperse, I felt a sense of relief wash over me. The condolences had been a blur of faces and names, but I knew that each person had come to pay their respects to my mother's memory.

My dad put his arm around me, pulling me close.

"We got through that," he whispered. "Your mother would be proud."

I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat.

As the last of the mourners departed, my dad and I made our way back to our car, surrounded by a somber silence.

The funeral was finally over, and I felt a mix of emotions: relief, grief, and exhaustion. We drove home in silence, the only sound being the soft hum of the engine and the occasional sniffle from my dad.

As we pulled up to our house, I felt a sense of dread wash over me.

I didn't want to go inside, didn't want to face the emptiness and quiet that awaited me. But my dad's gentle nudging encouraged me to get out of the car and head inside.

I ran up the stairs to my room, closing the door behind me with a soft click. I leaned against the door, feeling the weight of my grief finally crash down on me. I had held it together for so long, but now I couldn't hold back anymore.

I let out a sob, and then another, and another. The tears I had been holding back since the funeral finally flowed freely, streaming down my face as I collapsed onto my bed.

I buried my face in my pillow, letting out a loud wail as I mourned the loss of my mother.

I cried for what felt like hours, my body shaking with sobs as I released all the emotions I had been holding inside.

I cried for my mom, for her love and guidance, for the memories we would never make. I cried for my dad, for his loss and pain. And I cried for myself, for the ache in my heart and the uncertainty of my future.

As I cried, I felt a sense of release, a sense of letting go of all the emotions I had been holding onto.

It was a painful but necessary process, one that I knew would take time to heal. But for now, I just let myself feel the pain, and cry.