At Fifty six Kurt was a very accomplished man. He had two happy, healthy and successful children and a husband who apart from a touch of arthritis was getting along just fine. He had a successful business, a beautiful home, nephews, nieces and a motley collection of the best friends he could ever ask for. Sure he'd be happy with a few less grey hairs, but he refused to resort to hair dye. Life was good. The only thing really missing was his Dad. He'd passed away two years ago to the day, aged 84. Kurt had honestly thought he'd never recover, yet here he was, surrounded by his nearest and dearest in a day filled with laughter, good food and remembrance. It had become an annual tradition to meet on or around the date of his Father's death to remember, laugh, joke and most of all just to be together. Everything else fell to the wayside on this day. Finn and Rachel always brought a very...unique dynamic to the group, along with their three children. Carol laughed and mothered everyone, over catering once they were all back at the house after a meal. Blaine was just there. Solidly, mingling and socialising with everyone, but always with one eye calmly on Kurt, just reassuring him with a glance, or a touch that he was here should Kurt need him. Callie brought her husband and their two year old terror, Logan, who Kurt maybe spoiled just a little bit. Thomas brought his Fiance and always looked just a little awkward, much like his Uncle Finn.

All in all the day was a good one, but Kurt was always grateful when it started winding down and the Hudmel house was left with just Kurt, Blaine and Carol. It wasn't much quieter, but definitely more peaceful. Carol and Blaine were washing up in the kitchen, Kurt was sweeping through the house straightening everything up. He reveled in the silence, all sounds from the kitchen muffled by the closed door. His knees clicked as he bent down to pick up a stray toy no-one had noticed missing... Kurt held it to his chest, remembering having to turn back for Callie's doll when she was four. He could hear the cries, feel the stress. He smiled fondly and took a seat remembering the little moments usually forgotten in the rush of just living.

The sofa dipped beside him and he turned to face Blaine. Tired, helpful, supportive Blaine.

"What's that?" Kurt glanced down at the little lion still held carefully in his hand.

"I'm guessing it's Logan's. Must've left it here." Blaine nodded and laid his head on Kurt's shoulder, closing his eyes as though they were simply too heavy to keep open.

"We'll drop it off tomorrow." That was it, the end of the conversation. Just quiet contentment left, and God was Kurt good with that. He rested his cheek against Blaine's head, hardly noticing Carol slumping down in Burt's chair. It wasn't long before Blaine and Carol were snoozing peacefully. Kurt moved Blaine tenderly, mindful of waking him, and slipped off the sofa and to the bookshelf. He slid a thick photo album off the shelf and moved into the den, curling as best he could in the large chair facing the television and began flipping through the pages. The Hudmel house contained many photo albums, some of Finn through the years, some of Kurt. Some of the whole family, one of Burt and Carol's wedding. But this - this was made by Kurt, for Kurt. It contained only photos of his Dad, and a couple of his Mom. He watched Burt age through each flick of the page, his heart stopping momentarily as a picture of Burt in his hospital gown appeared; he quickly turned the page and smiled at the memories playing out fresh in his mind, as if they only happened yesterday.

A football game. A birthday. A barbeque.

A life.