She stands at the door, her eyes red and puffy. Instinctively, I know what has happened.

'No,' I choke and I cover my mouth with my hand as my vision becomes blurry. She nods her head once and immediately the tears start streaming down her cheeks. I open up my arms as grief consumes me. I cradle her head against my chest as her body is racked by sobs. We stand there, the only audible entity being gasps of air as we struggle to breathe amidst our tears.

Somehow my brain remembers to ask her to come in. She does so and I lead her to the den, where she sits on the couch and buries her face in her hands. I don't know where the kleenexs are so, not wanting to leave her alone for even a second, I make my way blindly to the bathroom, grab at a roll of toilet paper and run back to her.

'Thankyou,' she whispers, her voice hoarse, and proceeds to wipe her nose. I rip some off and imitate her.

'When?' I ask, it's almost too difficult to get the words out. A feeling of helplessness overwhelms me. I can't even begin to fathom what Gia must be feeling.

'At ten...' she starts, breathing in heavily and hiccuping as she does, 'Fifteen this morning,' she finishes. A fresh set of tears envelops her, 'Mom was with him. They made Marc and I wait in the corridor,' she blinks rapidly, 'Oh Taylor,' she wails. I hug her, not knowing what else to do. I want to say some comforting words to her but I'm numb. Up until now she had been coping with her father's cancer well. Better than I would have expected, but now, quite understandably, she had come apart. As had I. I had known that eventually Mr Mazziatto would pass away but I don't think I ever thought he could. And now he had.

My eyes are beginning to sting and I can't keep them open but I can't keep them closed. Gia is sitting limply next to me. Her crying has become silent and now I can only hear the odd sniffle.

'We were sitting in the corridor and my mum came out, her shoulders shaking. We went in and saw him. It just wasn't my dad, Taylor. It just wasn't! He was never that lifeless. Not even when I saw him last night. He still had that twinkle in his eye, which made you think he was laughing at life. And it wasn't there when I saw him this morning. His eyes were just staring blankly into space. The nurses hadn't close his eyes yet...' She coughs and hiccups and sobs, all simultaneously, 'The family is all at our house. Doing the big Italian thing, wailing and eating,' She tries to joke buwas going to sleep and snuck out. I just... don't want to be by myself. But I don't want to be there,' She'd stopped crying for a second but she opens her mouth and blurts out, 'What are we going to do?' and as she does the tears begin running again, 'What's mom going to do? And Marco?'

'And you?' I ask, knowing that's on her mind and knowing she doesn't want to vocalise it. She nods, wheezing into the crumpled paper in her hand.

'Gia, I want to be able to say something but...' I have nothing to finish the sentence off.

'I know. It's in limbo,' she finishes. I take her hand and hold it in mine.

'It's just his body, you know. He's not dead,' I insist.

'Better place,' she looks up at me. Her features are drawn, her mouth turned slightly downwards and her eyes puffy and the colour in her cheek being an intense, unnatural red, 'I'm worried, Taylor,'

'About what exactly?' I probe gently,

'My mom and what she's going to do. Also, financially, y'know. And my brother. He's going to need a male there, just to be there for him. A father figure type,'

'Gia, you'll pull through, all three of you together. It's going to take time and lots of healing but you'll get through it. For your dad. I know it's sounds like I'm talking shit and it feels like you'll never get through it right now but one day, I promise you, it'll all be okay,'

'But I'm always going to miss him,'

'I know. That isn't ever going to change,'

'And I'm never going to have him there, I'm never going to get to talk to him. Not in this lifetime and I can't bring myself to face the finality of it,' She breathes, 'Never. It's a long time,' she mutters. I don't know how to answer this. She's right, never is a long time. And I can't do anything to make it less for her and I can't make this situation better for her. Time is the only thing that will do that and even then it won't be better, it'll just be less intense and the pain will have subsided. But for her, the pain won't ever go away. Or for me.

It's to hard for me to digest that the man that used to teach me little Italian phrases when I used to go over isn't going to be there. It's true, the good die young. Mr Mazziatto, or Vince (I could never get used to that), was one of the better people I've known in my life. He would always know the right thing to say, he was the best peace maker I've known by far. When I would go over to their house for dinner and Gia and Marc would start an argument he would just make a joke that neither of the kids could keep a straight face at and the fight would be forgotten. And he was gone.

And Gia had been left to wonder how she was going to pull through. I have no reservations on the fact that she'll do it. It's one of the most endearing human traits: our ability to survive. It's just that now Gia has no idea on how she's going to do it. My eyes suddenly well up again. Gia notices and my tears have triggered hers again.

'I just love him so much and I can't help but think back on things now that I did and regret them so much,'

'But you know he knew that you didn't mean them,'

'But I could have tried harder for him,' she sobs, 'I shouldn't have fought with Marc so much. I should have helped mom out. I should have listened to the advice he dispensed,'

'But you remember the advice he gave you. And he knew that you didn't mean it Gia. You were just a kid. He loved you unconditionally. He was your dad. And as much as you remember the bad stuff you did now, you have to think about the times you made him proud, which would have been virtually every day of your life! Remember when you scored the penalty shot for the soccer final? And your five billion point GPA? Gia, the very fact you hate politicians overjoyed him,' I say earnestly. She smiles,

'Dad loved you,'

'Gia, I say this honestly, he was one of the best people I've met. He was awesome. I just can't say that enough. I don't think I'll ever be able to express that as much as I feel I should,'

'He was, wasn't he?' she nods. There's a silence,

'When's the funeral?'

'On Thursday. Morning,'

'Would it be presumptuous to ask if I can come?'

'You'd better be there,' she sniffles. I nod forcefully. She glances at her watch, 'I should go,'

'Sure,' We stand, 'I'll drive you home,'

'No, you don't have to,'

'Gia. Don't argue with me on this point. I'm driving you home. You're not going by yourself,'

'Okay,' she agrees. We make our way down to the garage and get into the car. I pull out of the driveway and as I pull into the road after my three pointer I take hold of Gia's hand. She tightens her grip on my hand after a few short seconds and it stays there until I pull up in front of her house. Our drive has been a short silent one,

'Should I wait to say something to your mom?'

'Probably,' she nods, 'You don't want to come in now. It'll be awkward for you and for my mom,'

'Okay,'

'But I'll see you soon, right?'

'I'll come by tomorrow,'

'Please?'

'Definetly. And hey, if you need to talk, ring me. At any time, okay? Even at three in the morning,'

'Thankyou,' she manages a small smile. She leans over and hugs me. I return the embrace, tightly, 'I mean it: Thank you.'

'Thank you for what? I didn't do anything Gia,'

'Yeah you did,' she nods. I dismiss this with a wave of my hand, I really don't think I've done anything.

'Call though, if you need to,'

'I will, don't doubt it,' she gives me a small rueful smile of sorts. I wait until she's safely inside before driving off.