the one before me - mr harrigan's phone

3 - back to black

❝ we only said goodbye with words, I died a hundred times. ❞

- back to black by amy winehouse
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MATILDA'S POV

It had been a month since the awkward meeting between me and Craig and since then, we'd maybe talked a couple of times. Over text and at Church. He'd started to come more often without reason, but it was nice talking to someone my age and not elderly people who'd talk about how my style looked sort of 'unfashionable'. I never listened, it got tiring at times.

A few days ago, Craig had called me, his voice seeming so tired and much less cheerful than most days.

"Craig? What happened?" I asked immediately, hearing his stifled sobs.

"He's dead. I- I don't know what to do anymore. I just thought you deserved to know," His voice sounded so hurt to the point where I had started tearing up too. Without even him telling me who died, I'd already figured it out in a matter of seconds, making me tear up even more at the thought, "His funeral is in 4 days, maybe you'd want to come. It's at the Church nearby Trailer Park,"

"The place where you decided it was a good idea to walk up to a complete stranger you barely knew, with zero certainty of their name," I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah," I heard him whisper. I could hear his smile from the other side of the phone, if that was even possible.

I got up from my bed that I had been sulking in for hours, dreading going to his funeral, but I had to. I respected him too much not to, and so I quickly got dressed. I wore the same thing to every funeral I've attended. Even though I've outgrown the clothes, I'd buy a new identical pair and wear it.

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^ what it looks like :)
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I paired the outfit with a black beanie, just in case it was too cold. I left my bedroom, approaching my grandfather with a face stained with dried tears.

"Stay strong, my dove," He said on his armchair in the living room. I leaned down to him so he could give a kiss on the cheek before I left. I walked out of the trailer, snow covering the whole lawn. I could hear voices coming from behind the park, down the hill at the cemetery. I jogged to the street behind everyone to show my respects, I was too ashamed and felt it was rude to interrupt the burial uninvited. I looked down to see Craig next to who I believe was his father. Craig was looking elsewhere, a different grave with blooming flowers set in a vase beside the headstone.

I couldn't blame him, I too, was glancing back and forth between Mr. Harrigan's grave and a different set of gravestones on the other side of the yard. The names 'Mongolia Lills' and 'Sam King' engraved into the headstone. I barely visited their graves, it always dawned on me that they were actually dead, no longer here.