I hate October.

I could feel the cold breeze dancing through my hair and each step that I am taking is making my knees weak. I put both of my hands in my leather jacket pocket and exhale slowly. I walk an inch closer to the little girl who is walking not far from me. Her bubblegum colored sweater makes her look like a giant marshmallow.

Then she stops, she turns on her heels and faces me. She flashes me a grin and twirls her hair.

"Mummy, you are taking too long", she complains.

I know she was talking about my pace.

"How many times do I have to tell you about being careful, little Petunia?", I squat in front of her.

She squints her eyes and wiggles her nose, just like how her father always did.

Her father..

I miss him so much.

It has been 4 years since he's gone and to be honest, nothing's changed. Hardly anything changed. The things I would do to have him back, the things I would trade just to have him back in my arms.

I did not realize I was crying until Petunia nudged my thigh. She is only five years old and yet, she has gone through a lot.

She is a fighter, just like her father.

And then I feel a hand holding my shoulder, I turn around to see Mikey Way. He pulls Petunia into a hug and carries her to the place where my feet have been dreading not to go. My pace is beginning to become slower as I am nearing the tombstone and when I am finally there, I see it.

Here lies the memory of a loving son, husband, father and friend.
Frank Anthony Iero Jr.