January 14, 2041: The Headstone

Carl was always the first one awake in his family. Most days, he was one of the first ones awake on the entire island. He took a hot shower, threw on a pair of well-worn jeans, a gray flannel shirt and his boots. He grabbed his coffee, his coat, closed the front door quietly and walked briskly the mile down the dirt roads to the cemetery.

The sharp, morning wind felt like needles on Carl's grizzled face. Winter was in full force and the dark, billowy clouds covered the rising sun. He blew warm air into his free hand then slipped it into the pocket of his wool coat. He walked through the cemetery on the well-kept paths that separated the five rows of graves. He stopped at the last grave at the end of the fifth row and stared down at the headstone. He studied the marker carefully, mentally tracing each letter and number engraved into the stone.

Once a week, whether the chaos in his life allowed it or not, Carl went to his grave and talked to him. It had become his routine to visit every Saturday morning. It felt good to be near him. To tell him the events of the last week. Talking to him grounded Carl and cleared his head. Hearing his own thoughts spoken out loud, allowed him to better understand what he was going through. Afterwards, after his head was clear, he could focus on the upcoming week and all the responsibilities it held. And when he spoke here, there was no need for a filter. He said what he wanted and held nothing back. Of course there were others to talk to but this was different.

And today was different too. Today marked exactly six months since his death.

Six months ago, the day after they buried his father in the cold, dark earth, Carl was still in a dazed shock, grieving hard, like he never had before. He hadn't meant to walk to the cemetery but his legs had a mind of their own and before he even noticed where he was walking, he found himself back there, standing in front of the grave as tears covered his face.

Richard Thomas Grimes

Devoted Father

Beloved Husband

Born September 22, 1972

Departed July 14, 2040

On that first day, the day after his burial, Carl read and reread the epitaph on the gravestone at least twenty times etching it into his mind. It seemed so arbitrary, as if this particular combination of words and dates could fairly sum up, to whoever might read it, who his father was. That was the nature of a grave marker though. A block of stone that tried, and sorely failed to tell the story of a life. Could a stone ever tell someone exactly how devoted and beloved a father and husband was? Could it speak to a person's bravery, wisdom, humor? Could it convey the integrity of the person who's body rested underneath it?

Everyone on Penland Island, and the surrounding islands also, knew who Carl Grimes was. He was their steadfast leader. The one who had brought them here when they needed a home. He made a life for those who sought refuge there. He sustained the nearly 1,700 people with what he established on the small North Carolina islands. He was recognized by most everyone and esteemed by those in his inner circle as well as those who knew him just by name or reputation.

But Rick Grimes wasn't known like his son. Most people were unaware that if it were not for Rick, none of them would be there. They were oblivious to Carl's origins as a leader which had everything to do with his father. His father made him who he was.

In the beginning, when Carl first began to lead, he was just the figurehead. Very few people knew that almost every decision he made was painstakingly discussed at length and in great detail with his father. They didn't know that what was in place and the life they lived was not because of who he was but because of who is father was. That was a long time ago.

Carl took a generous gulp of his black coffee. "Hey Dad. How are you?" Carl asked, his voice already cracking. "I'm okay. I'd like to say I'm great but I won't lie to you. I'm not great today but I'm okay. And like you used to say, 'okay is pretty good these days.'

"I've been trying to look out for Judith and Eva but they don't need me like they used to. Not anymore. Judy's good though. I think she's dealing with the loss better than I am. I haven't seen her all week but last time I saw her, she seemed happy. You know how busy she is with her family and all the projects she juggles. She's a good mama to those kids. Can you believe how many grand kids you have. It always blows my mind to think of how many people are here because of you. I'm proud of that.

"Eva's good too...at least I think she is. She's harder to read than Judy. She's still out on the road. Been gone for almost three weeks now. Nothing holds her back. I should know better than to try and manage her. She has a mind of her own and drives me crazy. What else could I expect from her knowing she's part of this family. Apple didn't fall far from the tree with her. She's so much like Mom, it's crazy. You already know that though. But she's doing her thing...working on another trade route and helping me make this place better and better.

"Mom she...she misses you so much," Carl said choking back tears again. "I think she likes living with us. I know I like it. We talk a lot. Even more now than before since we live together again. She's taking it easy – I mean she's taking it as easy as she knows how," Carl chuckled. "But she misses you. She mostly does okay during the day but at night...at night she still cries a lot. She's having bad dreams again. I know she wishes you were next to her to comfort her the way you used to when she would have them. I ask her if she's okay in the morning and she says she just misses you. She'll be okay though. I know she will. I'm taking good care of her and believe it or not, she let's me. She tells me at least once a week how much I remind her of you. It makes her happy and sad at the same time. I guess it makes me happy and sad too.

From the corner of his eye, something caught Carl's attention. He looked away from his father's grave at a squirrel running up a tree. He watched it as it ran across a limb, then jumped to a branch on the next tree over. "Remember how many squirrels we ate when we were on the road?" Carl smiled. "We always made it through whatever came our way. We always figured it out. You...you always made the best of every situation. I'm trying to do that now but I miss you Dad. I really miss you. I can't stop thinking about you. I know you wouldn't want me to do that but I can't help it." Carl dug the toe of his boot into the ground, a nervous tick he'd had since he was a kid. "Lately I can't sleep. Can't think straight. I don't even want to. This winter feels colder than any winter I remember...probably because you're gone. I'm not sure why this is so hard. We've lost so many but this...losing you...for some reason, it's hurt me more than all the others have. I don't think it's normal for a 44 year old man to carry on like this. But I guess I saw you cry and feel this way a time or two when you were my age. Maybe I'm being too hard on myself.

"I keep thinking about something that happened one day a long time ago. Something I never told you about. After the Governor nearly killed you and we thought Judy was dead. After Hershel died and we barely made it out of the prison. We made it to a house. Do you remember that house? You were unconscious. You were pretty beat up and just lying there on the floor and I remember thinking you were going to die." Carl looked down shamefully. "I was an idiot and I was angry. I thought I was angry at you but really I was just angry at life...life the way it was. And I was horrible to you, Dad. I went off on you...screaming and yelling and telling you that everything was your fault. Hershel, Judy, Mom...the others, I blamed all of them being dead on you. I told you I hated you. I told you I wanted you to die. In that moment, I thought I hated you. But I didn't. Of course I didn't. I was just telling you all that because I thought you might die. And I thought that if you did, it might be easier on me if I tried to hate you first. But I couldn't. As much as I wanted to hate you, it was impossible. I knew it wasn't really your fault. None of it. I knew you loved me and Judy and Mom and everyone else. I knew you'd trade your life in a heartbeat for any one of ours. And now - now that I'm where you used to be, leading others and feeling the weight and responsibility of that, and seeing the repercussions of my mistakes, I know how strong you were then. I've been where you were more times than I can count. I'm sorry for trying to hate you that day. I'm sorry that I wished you were dead that day, even it was just for a few minutes...even for just a few seconds," Carl cried. "I'm so sorry, Dad because if I could...if I could have you back now, I'd do anything. If I could hear your voice talk back to me even one more time, I'd trade anything for that," he said weeping. "I miss you Dad. I miss you so much."

Standing at his father's grave, Carl felt broken. The same way he felt when his father had just been taken from them, six months ago. Death played tricks on you. Sometimes the loss would feel like a memory from long ago, while just a moment later it's sting could feel as recent as that morning. Some days you thought you were fine, moving forward, maybe even feeling happy again. Then suddenly, the rug was pulled out from underneath your feet and the fall made you realize you were just as broken today as you were when it first happened. Whatever the cruel tricks were that death played on Carl, they hurt. Today felt like one of those days where it got the best of him and the pain he felt in his heart made his body, mind and soul ache.

Carl took his hand out of his pocket and placed it on the headstone. That was part of the routine too. The cold, hard, lifeless piece of granite was no substitute for his father but touching it made him feel just a little closer, like he was reaching out to him. His hand lingered a little longer today. Six months. Six months since his mentor, his hero, his friend, his father had been cruelly taken from him. It wasn't fair but Carl was wise enough now to know that most things weren't.

Carl finally wiped the tears that had freely fallen, off of his face. He sighed and looked up into the sky. The sun was trying to peek out from behind the clouds. "Bye, Dad," he said lifting his hand off of the gravestone. "I'll see you next week."

Carl wasted no time walking back home. As usual there was work to be done. And as usual, Carl was ready and willing to do it, just like his dad always was.

…..

"Hey Mom," Carl said as he closed the back door and walked into the kitchen. Michonne was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of tea. There was a sliced apple on a plate, untouched and already turning brown. He walked up to her and kissed her on top of her forehead.

"Hey," Michonne replied as she mindlessly ran her finger over the rim of her teacup, staring at her tea.

"You alright?" Carl asked.

"No, not at the moment."

Carl pulled a chair out and sat down at the table next to her. He read the heartbreak all over her face. "Thinking about Dad," he stated more than asked.

Michonne nodded, still staring into her teacup. "You were just at the cemetery?"

"Yeah."

"How are you feeling?" she said finally looking up at him.

"Kind of like you'd expect. Kind of like how I've been feeling all week." Michonne could hear the pain in his tone. "But I had a good talk with him. It's stupid, I know...still going to the cemetery and talking to Dad after he's been gone so long. You probably think I'm losing my mind." Carl looked down, embarrassed.

"I still talk to him too...it's not stupid. You have to do what helps and if that helps, you should keep doing it."

"It does help. It helps because in almost every situation, I know what he would say." Carl grabbed an apple slice off of her plate and stuffed the whole piece into his mouth. "Today was different though. Usually when I go to see him, it's a lot of business. You know, what should I do about this problem or that situation. But today I just talked about us. No business, just family stuff. I told him how the girls were doing. How you and I are doing. I told him how much we miss him. I got things off my chest that I've been holding onto for too long. It was good." Carl placed his hand on hers. "Would you want to try and go with me sometime – you know, to see him?"

Michonne adamantly shook her head, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

She inhaled and exhaled slowly. "Over the last few months, I've been holding it together, but just barely. You know that...you've seen me. I've been treading water but I still feel like I'm drowning...every day I feel like I'm drowning." Michonne looked away from Carl and back down at her teacup. "If I go see him, if I lay eyes on that headstone, I'll lose it. I'll break. And I don't want to break. I'm hurting too much right now to make myself hurt more. It helps you go there and I think that's really good. But it's won't help me. I know that part of this grief is going to mean moving forward and I will. I will move forward and maybe even be happy again, but today is not that day. I just don't have it in me."

"You do have it in you. I don't want to push you – I won't push you, but you do have it in you. You're the strongest person I know."

"Your dad would always tell me that too," she said looking out the kitchen window dreamily. "I wasn't the strongest but I was pretty good at faking it when I needed to."

"Nice try, but I know better," Carl said smiling at her admiringly. "Dad didn't say it because you had him fooled. He said it because it was true."

A modest smile appeared on Michonne's face. Carl always had the ability to make her feel better in a way no one else could.

Michonne had very close relationships with all three of her children. She did everything so effortlessly well, and motherhood was certainly no exception. She was very close with Judith and Eva. The girls readily confided in their mother and always listened to her and valued her wisdom. The love, faith, passion and strength Michonne had always possessed, was passed down to her daughters and they readily grabbed onto it and worked it into the fabric of their own lives. Her daughters loved her and their esteem for her had no limits.

All that was true of Carl too but it went even further than that. Though not her blood, she felt an inseparable kinship to him that couldn't be explained. Maybe it was because of the trials they traversed together throughout the years, especially in the beginning. Maybe it was because she appeared in his life right when his mother was taken from him – right when he needed her most. Maybe because when she looked at Carl, she imagined him to be every bit the man she would have raised her precious Andre to be. Maybe it was because he reminded her so much of Rick. For whatever reason, they were kindred spirits who cherished the beautiful mother and son relationship they had built over the years. Other than Rick, the love of her life, she was closer to Carl than she was to anyone else. Now that her husband and best friend was gone, Carl was who she was closest to.

Michonne stood from the table and took her dishes to the counter. "I know you have things to do today and I'm not going to keep you from them by crying on your shoulder all morning."

"Are you still going to take the kids to Wyatt's birthday party later?"

"Of course," Michonne said. "Mrs. Lewis is the best baker here and I'm sure there will be birthday cake there. And on a day like today, I need cake."

"Well I do actually have to get to work but...are you gonna be okay?" Carl asked with concern as he placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Come here kid." Carl moved closer and they put their arms around each other in a warm embrace. Michonne leaned her head on his shoulder as tears came from her eyes. "I'll be okay...and like your dad used to say, 'Okay is pretty good these days.'" She released him and wiped her tears away with a dish towel. "Now go. Get your work done and get home early. I'm making roast beef for dinner and I want you home by six," she said shaking her finger a him.

"I'll be home by six. Promise," he said walking away. "Love you Mom."

…..

A/N: Thank you so much for reading this first chapter of my sequel! Yes, I know we're starting off in a bit of a dark place but trust me with where I'm going with this, and you won't be disappointed...I hope. As always, kind and constructive feedback is welcomed and appreciated. God bless y'all!