The Last Goodbye

A thirty-four year old Dawson Leery sat quietly, his head cradled in his hands, on a stone marble bench. It was a breezy Wednesday afternoon, Mid-April, and the air was crisp as a wind blew it in off the creek. The sun shined as it would, ignoring fate and tragedy to just burn as mother nature had only intended it to do, moving on day in and day out, without the slightest bit of regret to carry it's children through another day; another life.

Dawson took a deep breath and raised his tear stained face to look at it.

'Why did this have to happen?' He wondered. 'How could life be so unfair.’

He thought back to the day when he had first come to know her

'Dawson, this is Joey.' His father said.

'Hi Joey,' He had replied in a small and innocent voice; the voice of a child unaware of the love that this girl, this little wisp of a girl, long brown hair and dirt on her face, would someday provide him, and everyone she could ever care for, with...

Dawson shook his head as if to shake the longing away. He missed her so much.

The time they had spent together had been priceless

The Indian summers they had spent, just lazing around, wasting time and enjoying themselves for the only two and a half months of the year that they could actually call their own; a time when there was no bed time, and sleeping in late was encouraged.

He and Joey would play late into the night while the air was still warm and the fireflies huddled in the trees...

He missed her.

He missed her dreadfully.

He remembered how beautiful she had been, how utterly beautiful.

He remembered the day of the pageant. They were just fifteen years old,

Joey stood on the stage; long, black dress, her hair pulled back and pinned in place, something bright and hopeful in her eyes. Those beautiful eyes...The spotlight illuminating her, her voice soft as it wavered through the air, touching his heart. He had first come to see how special she was this night as he watched her, ironically enough, through his camera.

He had felt the first pangs of true love just then. And it struck him with such force. He had always loved her, that much he knew. He just hadn't realized the effect she would have over him in the years to come...

It all flooded back to him.

The times they had kissed; The times they had fought, The times when one of them had stormed out in a huff pledging to the world how they would never speak to each other again. The times they had cried all night in each other's arms.

They had teased each other and laughed aloud as they wrestled on his bed. The secret looks they had shared in passing in the hallways at school. Their happiness; their pain; the angst of growing up.

Graduations... Colleges... Careers... Reunions... Weddings...

And Joey in her wedding gown, full and white; flowers in her hair and tears in her eyes. She was glorious on her day to shine before the world as she took the hand of the man she loved and vowed to spend the rest of her life with him...

"I'm sorry, Jo," He thought aloud. "I'm so sorry" He cowered behind his hands again as fresh tears spilt down his cheeks.

"Every day I think of you, and I wonder where it was that I missed the opportunity to keep you close to me"...

He looked down at her gravestone.

'Josephine Potter-Witter, beloved wife, mother and friend.'

She had died ten days ago and was buried next to her mother in the Capeside Cemetery.

Pacey had been inconsolable at the funeral. He had cried and cried, his head buried in his hands, and Dawson knew, better then anyone, how he felt. At the wake, he had sat on their porch swing, holding their three-year old son, Dorien, who bore an uncanny resemblance to Joey, in his arms.

He held him so tightly that the little boy had finally cried out to get free.

Jen Lindley had taken him into the house to get some pie and Pacey was left to sit on the porch alone with his conscience.

He had sat there until all of the guests left; until the food was cleared, and the dishes washed. He had sat there until way into the night when Dawson had finally had to go out and bring him inside. After the funeral, Jack McPhee had decided to stay. After kissing her husband goodbye, Andie had decided to stay as well, sending him back to their hotel. After Jen had put Dorien to bed, she came back downstairs and they all gathered in the living room, to talk and sip coffee, to remember, and to support Pacey in his darkest hour. It had been at least seven years since they had all been together like this, and even now, they were not whole...Dawson had taken the earliest flight in from L.A. when Pacey had called, saying she didn't have much time left. He had rushed to the hospital, and when he saw her, his knees nearly buckled beneath him. He was lucky enough to have three days with her. Joey had died as her mother had; after an unmerciful battle with breast cancer. Fifteen years earlier it was discovered that there was a small tumor growing inside of her. The doctor had removed it easily enough, and after a few months of chemotherapy and years of rigorous checkups, she had been given a clean bill of health. Then, two years ago, after Dorien's birth, during the happiest time of her life, she had had a severe relapse. This time, the cancer had spread like wild fire, and Joey had died in a hospital bed, hooked up to a respirator, with her friends and family surrounding her; letting her know she was loved until the very last moment. Pacey held her hand as her heart stopped. Bessie kissed her as the breath left her body. Dawson stood in the doorway, and as hard as it had been, he had not looked away as his best friend drifted out of this world. The five of them stayed up all night talking. Drink switched from coffee to wine as they recounted stories of their youth. There had even been a few laughs, though Pacey could only offer little more than a smile. Then there had been a lot of grieving, and they all slept together on the living room floor. Now Andie was back home in Boston with her husband, and Jack was back in New York. Jen had flown back to her flat in London, although she had promised to return and visit soon. Pacey sat on the back steps at home, and watched his little boy play in the yard. And Dawson was in the cemetery. He thought about all of the good...all of the bad...all of the life that he had witnessed in his last thirty-four years. He wouldn't have traded anything to change any of it, good or bad, as he knew Joey would live on in Dorien... Dorien had her smile. As Dawson smiled at this, he thought of his own five-year old daughter, living with her mother in Malibu. He smiled again. "I love you, Joey. I always will. "He lay the orchids he had brought for her down on her marker, and after a moment, turned and walked away.

~The End~