Falling Into Bloom

02 || Cameron

(1 MONTH AND 19 DAYS LATER...)

The finality that came with death made me uncomfortable, and it was one of the reasons that made death hard to accept. The fact that once something/someone died, the chances of resurrection were slimmer than none was what was making it hard for me to accept that my sister was gone.

Sitting in the church and staring at the closed casket and the picture of my sister, I found myself wishing that death wasn't so final, that there was a way to bring back someone from death. But there wasn't, and the acceptance was something that wasn't going to come easy.

I've never lived life without my sister, and I was dreading it, especially after we spent the last seven months always together. Despite the fact that the last few months of her life were spent tired after chemotherapy appointments and being in and out of hospital, she still wanted to hang out (practically forcing me to take her to the beach whenever she wasn't too tired). I enjoyed the time we spent together. Her being home all the time gave Asher—my older half-brother who my mother had before she met my dad—time to come and visit since he lived in Havenwood on the other side of the country.

Without even thinking about it, my eyes moved to my left, where my father was staring at the casket with a blank look. He wasn't crying or holding my mother's hand as she sobbed next to him—that responsibility left on Asher.

For me, I wasn't sure if the silent tears rolling down my face were because of the pain or because of the anger. My anger, though, was directed at my father. When the news about Gina finally settled, Dad was more worried about making sure that we don't tell anybody that Gina committed suicide and to just let them think that leukemia was what took her life. I didn't understand why he would be more concerned about that. It made it seem like he was embarrassed that his daughter couldn't take the pain anymore, and the fact that she was told that chemotherapy wasn't working pushed her over the edge.

I gritted my teeth, anger coursing through my veins. As much as it wasn't right, I very much preferred the anger to the pain—anger was easier to deal with than pain. I was brought back to reality when I felt a hand intertwine with mine. My eyes moved to my left where Savannah was sitting with her eyes trained on Father Johnson as he talked about how God gives and takes away.

I was honestly amazed that Savannah came. She just got out of a mental health facility days ago, and from what Valentina told me, her psychiatrist had told her to avoid anything that might be mentally taxing to her, but I guess Savannah decided to ignore her psychiatrist's advice. To tell the truth, I was glad that all my friends were here to support me. But mostly, I was glad that Savannah was here. It was a reminder that she was okay, that even though the night of the pens-down party changed a lot of things, it didn't take her away from us... from me—because I don't think I could survive losing Savannah.

"Cam, do you want to do the speech?" Asher asked, his eyes moving to Father Johnson, who was a few minutes away from asking a family member to come up and say something. "I can do it if you want."

I glanced at the casket, and a heaviness settled on my chest. I didn't know what I would say. I had a lot of love for my sister and a lifetime of memories to talk about, but whenever I thought about what I should say, nothing came up.

My mind kept playing back the morning I walked into her bedroom to ask her what she wanted for breakfast and all I could feel was how cold the room was and the sound of the ocean serving as a backdrop—she had been listening to ocean sounds as she slowly slipped away. I had mixed emotions about that. On one hand I was glad that she died listening to the sounds of something she loved since she couldn't be there physically but on the other hand I was uncomfortable since that single morning has ruined the ocean for me.