I felt like I was drowning in everyone’s stare of sympathy. Self consciously I smoothed down the edges of my newly ironed blouse, and wiped my sweaty hands on my black dress pants. My eyes were fixated at the front of the room, closer to the roof, but I could still feel everyone’s eyes boring into me. It was like a physical sting to my skin, every time someone’s gaze fell upon me it burned little holes into my flesh. If they carried on this way eventually I would be nothing but a pile of clothes and ashes on the wooden floor. I tried to blink back the tears that were trying to push there way out of my eyes, and stop my face from flooding red – but it was just a losing battle on my part. My eyes dropped from the roof to the floor, and stared at the intricate patterns – swirls of marks that had been made from chairs scraping along the ground, and just the normal twirl of the layer after layer of wood. Someone in the room coughed while a few others sniffled, someone near the back was quietly crying. Hearing them made my self-control waver and a tear leaked from my dull blue eyes, I quickly wiped it away before anyway could see.
A little lady came hobbling around with a bunch of booklets in her hand. Her back was hunched over and she used a walking stick. Her hair was a light grey, frizzing out in soft curls from her head to her shoulders. She smiled politely to everyone as she passed over the pieces of paper. There were soft whispers of, thank-you, that floated all about the church.
“We’ll start with a song.” The priest announced. The room began to fill with the motion of everyone standing up, people rearranging themselves and soft whispers of broken voices talking to each other in this short interval. I was the last to stand up; I couldn’t quite make my stiff legs hold up my weight without shaking. There was a pause while everyone was completely silent, practically holding there breathe while they waited for the flow of the music to take away the pain in the room. The little, old lady reached me with a tiny shake of her fragile legs.
“I’m sorry for your loss, sweetheart.” She whispered to me, with a sympathetic smile. And now I was uber aware that every single peer of eyes were on me.
“Thank-you.” I mumbled, and took the booklet she was handing to me. I turned it upside down and rested it on the floor under my foot. I couldn’t look at the cover, not now, other wise I was sure to burst. There was a crackle from the speakers then the music floated out and wrapped the whole room in its bubble of melody.
“Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost but now am found, was blind but now I see.”
Tears grew in my eyes until eventually everything was just a blur, the edges of everything wobbling and dipping in unnatural ways. I blinked rapidly and the hot salt water slipped one after the other down my cheeks and followed a trail down my neck.
Finally I made myself look at the front – for the first time since I entered this dull, grieving room. Not at the roof, not at the floor, but directly in front of me at the long rectangular wooden box. It was covered from head to foot in different coloured flowers, and right in front of it was an enlarged photo. In this photo is a person whose eyes are shining brighter than the sun, and are the colour of a clear, crisp summer’s sky. Marks of laughter are creasing next to his eyes, as his mouth is split into a million dollar smile, perfect white teeth spreading his lips apart. His black hair is spiked up over his head in an unnatural but still some how natural way. He’s half looking over his shoulder, study books in the crook of his left arm, while his right hand is coming up to do his usual huge wave. I should know, I took the photo just two days ago.
“…through many dangers, toils and snares I have come; ‘Tis Grace that brought me safe thus far and Grace will lead me home...”
My heart ached and my throat tightened with a sob that I couldn’t let out. In bold black letters above the photo were words that I didn’t want to read, but they still popped out and smacked me across the face anyway.
“Tyler Smith. Born 12th June 1992. Died 25th August 2009.”
I bit tightly down on my lip to stop my cries of pain. When really all I wanted to do was sob, scream, shriek, pound my fists on the ground, and cause something else as much pain as I was in. Also, lie on the floor and never get up until someone promised me that I was just having a nightmare and that Tyler would walk in the door and smooth my hair back from by tear streaked face, and tell me he was still here, that he would never leave me the way he did.
“…I once was lost but now am found, was blind, but now I see.”
The music slowly drifted to an end and everyone began to sit down, people tried to wipe away tears without others noticing, while some didn’t care who saw. Tyler’s sister sat next to me, her hand had somehow appeared in mine while I was unaware. It couldn’t surprise me though; I was too numb to care about anything. I couldn’t feel anything.
“Tyler’s sister would like to say a few words now. Caitlyn?” The priest spoke softly into the microphone, and then stepped aside. He nodded encouragingly towards her who gave a weak smile back. She squeezed my hand and stood up; her legs seemed to carry her strongly to the stand and microphone. She looked like a girl on a mission, she had something to say and she wasn’t going to stop until she had. Caitlyn cleared her throat; the microphone squawked and echoed all around the room.
“Sorry.” she murmured. The priest nodded in away to let her know it was fine. I watched as Caitlyn looked over at the photo of her brother, at the black coffin and the dozens of flowers and saw the determination in her eyes grow stronger. But not before I saw I glisten of pain.
“My brother was amazing.” her voice caught, she cleared her throat and carried on. “He was loved by mostly everyone. He liked to make himself known in the community, so he helped whenever he could. He was the captain of the football team and was an excellent student.” Caitlyn paused and stared over at Tyler and heaved a sigh, “But I’m not saying he was perfect. And he certainty hasn’t had an easy go of life. When I was thirteen both my parents died in a car accident, it was hard.” She stared off into space and I could see the fresh tears glisten on her cheeks. When she spoke again her voice was shaking and she was letting her emotions shine through more, “Even though Tyler was obviously grieving as much as me, he made sure I was okay. He put me first, and he became my new parent. He didn’t have a normal teenage life, he didn’t go out to parties, he didn’t get drunk, and he had to grow up in a blink of an eye. Of course he had help from my grandparents, but I relied more on Tyler than on anyone. Because he knew what I was going through, he was going through it too. He had so much to cope with at only fifteen.” My heart was being clenched so tight I thought it would explode with the pressure. Remembering the decent, caring and honest guy Tyler had been and reminiscing in the past was making this all so much worse. Caitlyn’s eyes fell on me, and I saw sympathy in them.
“I remember the day that Tyler came home and told me he had met a girl. Some might find it weird that I spoke to my brother about that kind of stuff, but he’s all I had, and we were close. It was around a year ago. He spoke of her pretty eyes, and her perfect hair. He told me he might be in love.” Once again I could feel everyone’s eyes boring into me, but I didn’t care so much now. I couldn’t hide it anymore, so I just let the tears fall. Seeing me cry Caitlyn began to get hiccups in the middle of her sentences, and stutter her words. “He’d come home from spending the night with her and be floating on air, he said that she was the one that he hadn’t felt anything like this before. Some might say that he was being a stupid, naïve little boy, who didn’t know what love is at all. But I believed him; anyone would if they saw the honesty in his eyes. And Tyler wasn’t the kind of person to fall for someone one day then change there mind the next.” Caitlyn had to stop then, her voice was hardly comprehendible.
“Take your time.” The priest patted her sympathetically on the shoulder. Sounds of more crying filled the room; I even heard the sharp squeak of the door as someone left. I turned around – not to see who had gone, but so I could have somewhere else to look other than Lidia. I wasn’t prepared for the scene that lay in front of me. Half the school was here, and the door hadn’t been opened from some one leaving it had been open to let more people in. The church was too small for everyone to fit in so some had flooded outside and were all peering in. I sharply twisted back to the front and tried to keep my shoulders from shaking as I started to let myself go.
Tell me what you think, pleeeeeeeease!
