Nick took his cue and stood to approach the front of the crowded room. In his fifty-plus years he had stood before more crowds than most people ever dream of. But this one? This crowd was a representation of his life. His accomplishments, his failures, his dreams and his visions for the future.

Stepping up to the podium, he ran a hand through his graying brown hair, long ago given up on keeping it blonde, and rested an old, age-torn book on the stand. Looking at those before him, he spent but a few moments in the eyes of each of the special people there.

Kevin. Now gray, weathered, but still strong and classically handsome. He was alone, as he had been a large part of his life. It was a loss, but this is what he had chosen many years before. Nick still considered him a big brother and a great friend.

Brian. Balding, still faking the blonde with a good dye job. Leathery skin from so many hours outside being the dad, the husband, the friend, the companion. His life had been picture perfect thus far. Hell, now he was even a granddad.

Howie. He still tried to look twenty-something. Still single. Still a ladies man. He had stayed close with Nick and his family all along, and Nick would never forget it. His friendship had been irreplaceable, especially in the last 10 years.

AJ. Bald, bald, bald. Married a number of times, a couple of kids scattered all over and a few more trips to rehab. But now that he was in his fifties, he’d finally settled down. Found another beautiful woman but this one didn’t take any of his shit. She was a keeper.

His family. Hmmm…thank God they were all still there. Mom and Dad aging horribly, all of his sibs married with families of their own. The road to that place? It had been rocky. Unpleasant. But it was settling down now. With a slight smile to Aaron, he turned his gaze to the young man who changed his life.

Niran. His son. The name means “eternal”. Ciara and Nick thoughtfully chose it before they caught their flight to pick him up from his birth place…Thailand. It would signify their love…eternal. She fought adoption for quite some time, but could no longer fight it. The love she and Nick shared was too much to keep to themselves. Even with her health, it was approved. After a trip there for a vacation, they had been moved by the need for children’s care there. Options in America were plentiful, but they chose to go outside the borders and adopt a Thai baby. Take away the physical ethnic differences, and no one would know he was not their own. He was, in every possible way.

And now…Mali. His granddaughter. Only two years old, but the light of his life. Her name means “flower” and of course, she is the most beautiful in any garden. She looked up to Nick, oblivious to what was going on around her and flashed her dark, black eyes to him, spreading her arms out wide.

“Papi!”

“Hey sweetie…Papi will be down in a minute.”

Taking a deep breath, he smiled weakly as the crowd waited for his words. They’d be patient. Many were surprised to even see him up there. How could he speak? How could he do this? Years on stage were going to have to come in handy now, to be sure.

“First, I need to thank you all for coming. For being a part of our lives. For never leaving our side when things got too hard to handle. For standing by, even when we did things you thought were impulsive or selfish or reckless. You trusted us and loved us…and we thank you.”

He looked to Ciara’s family showing only a glimmer of anger. Truly those words were not for them, but there was no way to single them out. They were never supportive, never understanding. But in their warped way, they loved Ciara, and Nick had grown to tolerate their presence, especially in the last few years. He had no choice. Seeing Nate and his wife sitting there, he smiled and looked back down to the podium.

“I brought a book to read…a children’s book that was very special to Ciara and I…and to Nate, Rachel, Niran…” looking back to his granddaughter in her mother’s lap, he tried to smile again…putting on a brave front for her, “…and hopefully will be to Mali too. It’s short, so I hope you don’t mind.”

Everyone nodded in approval and he began, letting himself get lost in his memories, forgetting he wasn’t alone in the room.

Draw me a star.
And the artist drew a star.
It was a good star.

“Draw me a horse. Draw me a shark. Draw me…a garden.” When they’d first met, Ciara was taken with Nick’s pen and ink sketches. They’d go fishing and he’d spend most of the day loading up paper with her requests. After a time he quit drawing for her…although he never quit drawing. He taught Niran to draw and now he drew for Mali. But, Ciara’s star was still his best work yet.

Draw me the sun.
And the artist drew the sun.
It was a warm sun.

Florida sun. It made the green in Ciara's eyes sparkle, adding extra strands of color that would dance and play with the strings of his heart. It warmed them in the morning after nights of love making. It bounced off of Niran’s shiny black hair making it almost look white. It healed aches and pains that cold night’s would bring.

Draw me a tree, said the sun.
And the artist drew a tree.
It was a lovely tree.

Palm trees for them. They were in every memory from the plastic ones in the nursing home, to the real ones lining the drive to their home, back to the plastic ones in the hospital corridors. How he hated those corridors, those plastic, sterile halls.

Draw me a woman and a man.
And the artist drew a handsome couple.

Nick’s voice finally broke and he stopped reading, never looking up, trying to compose himself. He knew this day would come, but now that it was here? How was he going to…he decided to keep reading.

Draw us a house, said the couple.
And the artist drew a house.
It was a strong house.

All the homes they shared flooded Nick’s memory. The house across from the nursing home where he made her peanut butter and jelly, his family’s home in Ruskin, his home in Apollo, Marathon, her apartment, her house and finally, their home. The one they built together…with a lot of help, of course. Their home. Their heart.

Draw me a dog, said the house.
And the artist drew a dog.
It was a big dog.

The tears from moments ago were now dry as he smiled through his pain. She hated dogs. Even the little ones. He was surrounded by them. Always. She never complained. Never griped. And they loved her…sometimes they took better care of her when she was sick than Nick did.

Draw me a cat, said the dog.
Draw me a bird, said the cat.
Draw me a butterfly, said the bird.

Draw me a flower, said the butterfly.
And the artist drew red and yellow and blue and purple flowers.

Looking up to Mali, he smiled a huge, genuine smile...decorated with a tear running down his cheek. His flower. Their flower. Never in a million years did they think they’d have a child, no less a grandchild. But here she was. Ciara had been too ill to totally enjoy Mali’s presence in her life, but Mali knew Ciara well. “Mali and Mimi”…they had been as inseparable as they could be given the circumstances.

Draw us a cloud, said the flowers.
And the artist drew clouds heavy with rain.

Clouds. Yep, there had been lots of those. Heavy with rain. Blackened with storms. But they knew it going in. Ciara’s warnings to him so many years ago had pretty much all come true. Vision loss, muscle weakness to the point of needing a wheel chair to get around, loss of toes, and finally kidney failure and dialysis. It was an ugly, ugly road, but honestly…the only way he would have changed it is if it didn’t have to happen to at all. Because in those ugly, awful moments, he learned so much, he loved so much and received so much love in return. Nothing could replace it. Even horrible, frightening moments with Ciara were moments he cherished.

Draw me the night said the rainbow.
And the artist drew a dark night.

And this was definitely his “night.” Life without her in it. But…

Draw me the moon, said the night.
And the artist drew a full moon.
Draw me a star, said the moon.

Night is never pitch black. There is always light. And that light rested in the people watching him, supporting him, loving him through this whole thing. He looked to Niran whose finger was beginning to draw in the air, showing his wife and daughter how it went.

Down, over, left, and right, draw a star oh so bright.
It was a good star.

Hold on to me said the star to the artist.
Then, together they traveled across the night sky.

Tears poured down Nick’s cheeks as he slowly closed the book and looked up to the people before him. Everyone was crying in one fashion or other. Sobs, quiet streams of salt filled tears slid down faces, tissues dabbed eyes of the strong. Taking a deep breath, he spoke his final words to the crowd.

“I’m not the star. Cici is that star. And, like the story says, she’s a good star…more beautiful than any others. Drawn differently.” He held up the book, showing the large 8-pointed star on the back. “You can’t tell at a glance that it’s different, but you notice that it shines brighter, fuller…it’s a good star.” Bringing the book down, he held back the flood of tears waiting to break free.

“Ciara asked me to hold on to her by letting me love her. That was not an easy thing for her to do. But we did…and…together we traveled across the night sky. Now, it’s time for us to travel alone.” Looking at Niran and Mali, he smiled through his tears, “but she’ll always be there, guys. Brightening up our night, watching us, asking us to hold on to each other now…her star will always shine.”