Keeley made it through the week in a haze. DOMA offered three days of paid bereavement leave, but she used two sick days as well. She would return to work after the funeral.

It was still hard to believe her father was gone. For good. This wasn't like a third rebirth; there was no unfinished business.

Keeley believed she would see him again after she died, but she had just passed her forty-fourth birthday. Given current medical advancements, that wouldn't be for several decades.

Imagining decades without Robert Hall was the most painful aspect of his loss. The last time this happened, she only had two miserable years without him.

Back then, he was all she had—her sole source of love and affection. His loss had been ten times more devastating.

This time, while still difficult, Keeley had others who loved her—many of them. The large turnout at the funeral was evidence of this.

In her first life, only a few coworkers, neighbors, and one or two distant cousins (beneficiaries of the family trust) attended her father's funeral; fewer than twenty people in total.

This time, Robert's coworkers and neighbors were present, along with some of his care facility nurses. More importantly, Keeley was surrounded by friends and family as she said goodbye.

Her husband and children were by her side. The Singletons, Quinns, Clarks, and Griffiths attended with their families. Even Jeffrey and Keisha traveled from Maryland with their two children to pay their respects.

All these people knew and respected Robert, even if they didn't love him as her family did. Their presence meant more than words could express.

"You alright, sweetheart?" Aaron whispered as they entered the church.

The service was about to begin. Three people would give short tributes before the procession to the cemetery.

Keeley was too emotional to speak, so her husband delivered her tribute. One of Robert's oldest friends would also speak, as would Violet. Keeley was surprised her daughter volunteered, as she hated public speaking.

She nodded. "I think so. I wore waterproof mascara, so crying won't matter."

He tightened his arm around her, kissed her forehead, and they sat in the front row. Robert had written a will before his Alzheimer's worsened, specifying this church—where he'd married—for his funeral.

The pastor began, but Keeley barely listened, focusing on the framed photo of her father behind his casket, between flower bouquets.

It was from a Yankees game he'd taken her sons to four years earlier, before his illness worsened. His eyes shone with happiness.

Kaleb, Oliver, and Nathan were cropped out of the picture (only the deceased was supposed to be shown), but that day, all four wore matching Yankees jerseys and caps, smiling radiantly.

Keeley sighed, tears welling. At least he was reunited with his mother and brother, free from pain. Though her family would miss him terribly, Robert was at peace.

After the pastor's remarks, it was Aaron's turn. He squeezed Keeley's hand before approaching the pulpit.

"Good morning, everyone. I'm Aaron, Robert Hall's son-in-law," he began softly. "My wife asked me to speak."

The unspoken reason hung heavy, and Keeley felt sympathetic glances. It was both comforting and unsettling.

"When I first met Robert, he immediately called me 'son.' I never expected that to be true, but I'm truly blessed to have been considered his son. He was a wonderful father, grandfather, and man," Aaron continued.

A few chuckled, remembering Robert's friendliness. Some neighbors had heard him address other children similarly.

Keeley chuckled, remembering that first meeting. Aaron had been startled. It was one of the few times she'd seen him flustered.

"From the moment I learned Keeley was pregnant with the twins, I wanted to be the kind of father Robert was: kind, patient, supportive, and fun. He was a role model for me and my children. He was a vital part of our family and will be deeply missed."

He nodded, concluding his remarks. Sitting back down, Keeley rested her head on his shoulder. The heartfelt tribute brought on another wave of tears.

(The final promotional text was removed as requested.)