Stones to Abbigale

Chapter 17

Davis' funeral came too quickly, I couldn't imagine ever being ready to say goodbye. Some- times I felt like it would be so much easier had it just been me, but then I would imagine Abbi being left alone and felt even more pain. I can't find solace in grand gesture of self- sacrifice, as it would mean hurting everyone else I love, and yet I'm struggling to accept the very reality that surrounds me.

I didn't want to say anything at his funeral; I could barely even manage to sit in the back with Abbi and my mom. I found myself looking down at the floor, drowning in my shame. Every other word spoken at the funeral only made me hate myself more. The cries of his family members, listening to them talk about the amazing person I already knew him to be, I just wanted to lose consciousness so I wouldn't have to endure my self-loathing any longer, but I had earned this torment, I had earned the disgrace I felt.

It was time for his mother to give a speech, I couldn't bear what I was about to hear but you can't deafen your ears as simply as you can close your eyes and even if I could, I was more than willing to hear her curse me. I deserved to know how much Davis's mom hated me for being in her son's life. It was only right that I would be reminded I was the reason Davis left this world far too soon.

She approached the podium that stood next to an enlarged picture of Davis surrounded by flowers. Davis' mom began to speak, "My son was the brightest light in my life. From the moment he was born, I could see happiness in his eyes. He always loved putting a posi- tive spin on most everything around him, but despite his regular upbeat attitude, he..." she paused looking at the far wall behind us all. Collecting herself, she continued, "...we didn't spend as much time as we'd have liked if I'm going to be honest. I assumed, like many par- ents, that I would never see my child pass before I did." She paused again, looking down with her hands firmly clasping the podium. She said, "His father and I worked a lot, a ridicu- lous amount really. But we were able to create a comfortable life for Davis. We would have dinners every night together, and he would talk about everything that was going on at school only to return to his room whenever he was not eating with us or participating in some holiday."

"A lot of people will sugar coat what person they idealistically believed their kid to be, all I can really tell you is the truth, our son was literally perfect in every way. That is the com- plete and utter truth, no denying it whatsoever, he was an angel," she said as the room slightly brightened in its mood. She continued "When I was able to spend quality time with my son, he often spoke of his friend James. James, as some of you know, was there when Davis passed. He would always say how much he liked James and told me how hand- some he thought he was. He said just being around James made him feel like he was cool, and part of something important." I sat there crying, listening to her not curse me as I sus- pected, but possibly even worse, make me hate myself more by revealing how much faith Davis had in me. The weight I felt on my shoulders increased knowing how much he was counting on me, and where was I?

I flashed back in my mind to the freeway, Abbi and I couldn't catch up with him; we tried, but were scared. Seeing that man hanging there, it was like something you would see on TV, a scene straight out of what you'd expect from a 3rd world country. We weren't ready for it, but Davis just ran without thinking about it, it's like he had no sense of self, he cared about a stranger more than himself while Abbi and I were crippled by the impossible choices we were faced with. It was only when Davis was hit that I was willing to put my life on the line and what did it matter? It was already too late. All because someone who gave up on the world and wanted to show them what he felt about it in one final act decided to foolishly do to others what others had done to him. The man who jumped from the bridge blamed the world and in that act, he caused a heart that was good, that pounded like a mighty drum, the heart of my friend Davis, to cease its song forever.

I looked up to see Davis' mom continuing to struggle, she managed to go on "I know James is angry at himself for what happened. I screamed at him when he showed up on my doorstep crying. Knowing Davis was with him, I held him responsible, but after talking to the emergency responders, after learning about exactly what happened, I realized James is actually the reason Davis is laying in this casket before us, instead of only ashes in an urn. He risked his life to pull Davis off the highway, that act of selflessness made me better understand why Davis looked up to James." Abbi squeezed my hand hearing what Davis' mom had to say. I was still shaking and grief stricken despite his mom trying to re- lieve me of the guilt I felt.

Abbi leaned over to me and said, "I love you James, I always will." Tears continued to run down my face, Davis' mom could see this too. Tears ran down her face almost in sync with mine. She stepped down the stairs by the podium and walked over to me. I stood up still looking down and consumed with shame. She wrapped her arms around me and I could hear other people gasping for air, I assume this moment was overwhelming for most every- one, but it was hard to think about much of anyone over the constant self-loathing screams saturating my mind.

My tears began to soak into Davis' mom's shoulder so I lifted my head only to see her hold- ing a brave but pain-filled smile as she looked upon me with tear-filled eyes. Davis' mom then returned up the stairs and I sat back down. I felt awful, but I could feel a small weight lifted, like I was just about to be crushed but was saved by a single embrace.

Davis' mom concluded her eulogy. "I don't want anyone to be angry over what happened to my son, but sadness is just our way of showing how much we cared for him. I think it's important that we all remember that there are pieces of my personality, your personality, every personality in this room, that are shared with countless other human beings on this planet. Your opinions, feelings and behaviors are very rarely exclusively experienced and expressed by any one individual. Accept it or not, none of us can really die, because every aspect of who we all are exists in our brothers, our sisters and even many complete strang- ers. Our playfulness, our capacity to love, everything that makes us who we are, is shared with countless human beings, some like us in many ways, others only sharing a few traits."

"I see Davis' smile in my husband," she said looking over to her husband who gave a small smile of encouragement as tears ran down his face. "I see his eyes in his grand- mother. He also had many nerdy hobbies just like her as well" the room gave out a sad laugh as she continued, "We are all part of Davis, and Davis is part of all of us. Live on knowing, so long as one of us survives, none of us can ever be completely gone." She con- cluded now looking down, tears falling from her eyes to the podium, "I love you Davis. When I miss you, I'll do my best to pay you a visit, through your father, through your grand- mother and, if I'm alone, I'll do my best to see whatever part of you I can through myself." Her husband, Davis' father, softly greeted her as she walked off stage.

After the service Davis' mom approached Abbi and I and hugged us. She repeatedly re- minded me that I was one of the best parts of Davis' life and that he would want me to be happy. She saw how much I was crying, how wrecked I looked; I couldn't really say any- thing to her, all I could do is hug her back and listen.

Davis' father also approached me, putting his hand on my shoulder and only said "You know..." He started crying and couldn't even finish saying what he wanted to say. I replied saying "I'm sorry" and he hugged me as if we were holding each other up. We were both so tired of crying, so weak, neither us having eaten much of anything in days.

My mom remained silent the entire funeral. She was supportive, but tried not to get in- volved because she didn't know how to process everything that had happened. Abbi and I sat in the back of the car holding hands the whole trip home. Just as she had many times before, she ran her fingers across the hairs on my hand, trying to comfort me.

When we arrived home, I went in my room with Abbi, she closed the door and we rested in bed the remainder of the day in silence. We were emotionally exhausted and sleep was a small break from the painful reality we had come to find ourselves living in.