Sunday. November 15th, 2015. 3:45 PM.
• • •

Yesterday at around noon I was in a meeting with higher up officials to discuss what would come next. I had tried to ignore it, but they had shown up at my door and forced me to comply. As I sat in the room at the end of a long table surrounded by a dozen high ranking military men and women, I kept my face passive and listened to them tell me they were "sorry for my loss", "that it was for the greater good", "He saved us all". It wasn't until a man who I think had a name of a bird had spoken up that they had gotten any reaction out of me.

"You what?" I had asked leaning forward.

"Ms. Westmore, with your permission we'd liked to bury Superman in Arlington."

"No. His body goes to his mother." I told him.

"Ms. Westmore-,"

"General Swan, let me make myself clear: his body stays with his mother, and you and no one else will go looking for her. I have friends in high places, too. If they so much as get the slightest inclination that you or someone here or anyone for that matter is looking for his mother, you're going to be the first person they talk to. Batman and I will handle the moving of his body."

The whole table was staring at me, and I spotted a young woman smiling slightly at me from the end of the table.

"If I may?" She raised her hand, "I know you're in pain, but you can't keep the world from mourning him. They lost someone too. No one will search for his mother or his burial site. I'll make sure of it myself that no one ever finds out his identity, but you have to give the people something."

I had leaned back into my plush leather seat and told them they can honor him however they want, but they get an empty casket, and the only people who know are the ones at the table. That caused a flurry of questions from old men who said the world didn't deserve an empty casket and my anger boiled up, and I raised my voice at them.

"He died to save you and everyone else on this planet, and I have to give him to you?! I can't speak to him or hold him or hear his laugh anymore, but the world that cast him out and wrote such hateful things and lied about his purpose here, on the planet he was raised on, says they deserve more from him? From me? You all hated him in the weeks leading up to his death, and he still sacrificed his life for you all. You don't get another damned thing from him. He's already given everything."

I had slammed my hand on the table rattling the dozen water glasses and the ashtrays. On my way out though I was told something, I hadn't expected.

"You need to be at the funeral on Monday morning and Ms. Westmore that isn't a request."

Batman was fully compliant in my request for him to take the body safely to Smallville and didn't even hesitate on saying yes. I thanked him wholeheartedly and wished him luck in his journey. I had told him that I needed to be at the funeral and not the one at the Kent farm, sadly both were taking place on Monday and I couldn't fly to Smallville in time. He told me he would go in my place. I hated that I was missing being there for his mother, but they weren't taking no for an answer.

The memory of that afternoon was fresh in my mind, and as I held the phone in my hand to call Martha to tell her, there was a knock on the door. Confused, I frowned at the door hoping for it to go away. No one should be arriving now, and I had told the doorman not to let anyone up because it was usually paparazzi or crazy fans.

The knock sounded again, and then I heard a voice I was not expecting.

"Mom?"

"Yes, open the door, baby,"

Shocked, I looked down at my crumpled pajamas and my hair was a mess. Sighing, I smoothed out my shirt and pulled my hair back behind my ears, maybe she wouldn't see the grease. When I opened the door, she looked at me sadly.

"Oh, baby, I am so sorry," And pulled me into a hug. Tears I hadn't known were lurking had broken the surface, and I cried in my mother's arms, we hadn't even made it a few feet from the door. She had shuffled me back, slamming it with her heel and lowered me to the floor to hold me tightly. Her long fingers stroked my hair, and she rocked me as she told me it was going to be okay.

• • •
Sunday. November 15th. 8:30 PM.
• • •

"What do you mean you're going to miss the funeral?" My mom had turned to look at me, spoon dripping with sauce. My apartment was a mess, and after I had ruined her sweater with tears and snot, she ordered me to bed. When I woke up, she was in the kitchen making alfredo, and my apartment had been cleaned.

I don't know why I told her; it just came out. I stood before her in one of Clarks dress shirts and a pair of my sleep shorts. His socks were large on my feet as I shuffled to take a seat at the island.

"They're burying him in Arlington, and there's a plot and headstone all ready. It's supposed to be as big as Kennedy's funeral, and like Jackie I need to be there, walking behind the casket."

I saw her shake her head out of the corner of my eye as she stirred the sauce again,"I was wondering why you weren't in Smallville helping Martha with preparations. She said he arrived yesterday."

"I haven't told her yet,"

"Annie Vanessa Westmore. You pick up that phone right now and call her." Her voice was stern as she used my dreaded middle name and handed me the phone.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Mom, this is hard for me!"

She put her hands on her hips and glared at me, "Like it's not hard for Martha? That's her son. She has to bury her child, Annie. Pick up that phone and call her right now. She deserves to hear it from you."

After sitting in bitter anger for being yelled at by my mother and for being made to make a phone call that was long overdue, I took my phone and went into my bedroom.

It rung a few times before she picked up," Hello?" She sounded out of breath.

"Martha, it's Annie."

"Oh, hi. I was just making up Clark's room for you. Is your flight coming in later?"

"No, I'm not coming. When I met with the military to talk about funeral arrangements I made a deal that their casket would be empty and you would be able to bury Clark with no interference whatsoever. Because I demanded it, they're making me be there for the funeral tomorrow at nine. I know I should be with you and I'm so sorry, but I couldn't let them have him,"

"Annie, it's alright. Thank you for sending him back to me."

All I could muster was a weak okay before we hung up. My gaze fell to the grey blanket on his side of the bed, and his watch was ticking away. A glass of water sat untouched and half full. I sighed, pulling up the collar of his shirt to take in his smell.

"That wasn't so hard, was it. She told you she understood, didn't she?"

"How did you know that?"

My mother sat at the edge of my bed careful to not mess with the throw blanket that was on his side of the bed still neat and tidy like he had left it. Her dark fingers played with the edges of it, "You made it possible for her to have a real funeral for her son, with no one else, but family and close friends. She's going to appreciate that for the rest of her life."

I nodded wiping away tears, "Sorry for the mess."

"Don't worry about it. Now, what are we wearing to the funeral tomorrow? I can borrow one of your black coats. You have about three." She was now going through my closet pulling out coats and black blouses, pants, skirts anything suitable for a funeral.

"Mom?"

"Hmm?" She turned around smiling at me. Her blue eyes were looking over a black long-sleeved wrap dress I had bought last year.

"Thank you for coming."

"Of course, I wasn't going to let you walk alone."

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