//int. carroll county high school ice rink - before dawn. nov 2009
Fuck. This. Shit.
He didn't want to talk to anyone. Ashton had been alone on the ice since the night before, a day after the funeral, a soldier's send off, a three volley salute, none of the fanfare fucking mattered because it wasn't going to bring him back. Thwack, thwack, thwack. Pucks were flying into the nets as the thirteen-year-old sped through the ice as fast as he could, back and forth and around again, hitting whatever puck came into his sights with all his might as if the burn of his muscles screaming for him to stop could take over the aching burn in his heart.
Fucking selfish asshole, thwack, who said he could die? Thwack. Who said he could miss all of his hockey games before and to come? Thwack. Who said he could be so selfless to protecting others -thwack and yet so selfish towards leaving his own family to protect themselves? Thwack. Who said he didn't even deserve to say goodbye? Thwack. Ashton hit one more puck before he broke his stick and roared a grieving, anguished scream that echoed and rung throughout the silent arena.
And once he had screamed his throat raw, his legs gave out after 8 hours on the ice, dropping down to his knees before finding the back of his head hit the cold beneath him. His mom had quietly cried the entire night before and that morning she was strong enough to pick herself back up to go teach, he didn't know how she did it, because he was still filled with rage, and sorrow, and regret, and anger and he didn't know where else to expend it all other than the ice. Ashton instead avoided classes and sought comfort from his skates and hockey stick. He couldn't stay at home alone, there were still things and memories there that hurt.
He pulled up the cold steel of a dog tag that they brought back to look at it dangling above him, "..you don't get to do that."
That weekend day a knock on the door came, one of dad's comrades came by, with his belongings from his deployment, apologizing and mentioning he died a hero. Bullshit. Everyone kept saying that over the funeral, he was a hero, Ashton doesn't even know what that meant having never seen his father being the hero they say he was. He barely got to really know him, always in and out of deployment. What was so good about the military that made a man sacrifice his time, his family and his life? The rage while still there turned towards a sad curiosity, what had been his dad's life there, why had he took so much pride in his job, was there purpose there, what was his legacy there, were there things he never got to finish before his time was up?
His coach was the first one to find him on the ice that morning. Sharing his condolences, that everyone grieves differently, and if Ashton's was on the ice, he'd let Ash work through it here, additional trainings before the next regionals. Give him goals, a sports scholarship was in sight for the talented teenage hockey player. That's right, that was supposed to be his goal, a sports scholarship through hockey to afford college, maybe studying physics and astronomy, or maybe get scouted, drafted in the NHL, go pro for his early prime years and see where that took him before going into his studies proper after.
Maybe.. just maybe if he threw himself into it all, give himself to hockey, like laying on the ice, things will go numb enough for him to not feel anything at all. He remembered nodding in agreement with his coach, holding on tightly to his dad's dog tag as much as he held on the lifeline of hockey, of his mom, of his friends. Without them, he wasn't sure he'd find a way out of drowning in the rage. It took awhile for the grief to really work its way through to being bearable, for days to feel okay again, for life to not feel guilty being lived without his dad. It took awhile for Ashton to finally put on the dog tag, and never take it off again, he couldn't go onto the ice without it, couldn't go into a game without giving a quick kiss for luck, couldn't feel like he could let go of a game until he whispered all his pride and his regrets from it to his dad thumbing the dog tag in front of his face.
..It took awhile for Ashton to finally visit his dad's grave for the first time after the funeral. He remembered the school counselling pairing him up with Winnie for a support program, he remembered he finally stood in front of his grave with her there. Now he couldn't imagine not coming by for a visit, especially this time of the year, especially once a hockey season ends, especially moments when he wished he still had his dad.
//ext. carroll cemetery - day. june 22 2026.
"newsflash dad, still allergic to lilies," Ash chuckled with a sniffle, glancing over to Winnie before sitting down by the headstone with the name Finley Ryder engraved, gently placing the flowers down in front of it.
"...happy father's day dad."
