When you love me

White roses

The sky is gray on the day of Lauren's funeral, as if even the universe shares our sadness. The light rain that falls feels like the tears of all of us, silent and constant, as we gather around the casket.

The ceremony was simple, but charged with emotion. Lauren had requested it, nothing grand, just an intimate farewell between friends and family. The few who were there shared a deep bond with her, each of us marked by her presence in our lives.

I stood next to my mother, feeling small and helpless. Ryan was a few steps away, alone, isolated in his own world of pain. I wanted to run to him, hug him, but he looks like a statue, impenetrable, lost in his grief.

The first to speak before everyone was my mother, who had always shown herself to be a strong woman who now seemed fragile and broken. Her words were simple, but cutting and intimate, each sentence a testament to the love and loss we all felt. After her, others stood to share memories and tributes, each one bringing to light a fragment of the vibrant, compassionate life Lauren had lived.

When it was my turn to speak, my hands shook. I stood, trying to keep my voice steady, but I could barely see through the tears.

— Lauren,—  I began, feeling a lump in my throat, — was more than a friend. She was a light in the darkness, a guide to so many of us. She taught me about strength and courage, and how love can be a beacon even in the darkest of times. I will miss you every day, and I promise to honor your memory by caring for those you asked me to. Thank you for everything.— I spoke of Ryan, caring for him, and looked at him, who remained motionless.

I returned to my seat, feeling a deep emptiness in my chest. I wanted to reach out to Ryan, but he was lost in his own grief, oblivious to everyone around him.

Ryan was the last to speak, but he spoke briefly, because his words seemed choked up. He tries, but his emotions take over any control over his actions. I feel his anger in his eyes and in his voice, and he looks at me, as if he blames me for everything. Not being able to say anything else, and we all understand, he returns to his place on the bench and cries silently, hiding his face in his hands.

After the words, we begin the final farewell. Each of us has something to leave in the casket, a symbol of love and the memories we shared with Lauren throughout her life that was far from easy.

My mother placed a white rose, representing the purity and beauty of Lauren's spirit. Cole placed a small book of poetry, a collection that Lauren loved to read aloud to him and Ryan when they were children. I place a photo of the two of us, taken on a happy day at the beach, so that she would always remember the love and laughter we shared.

Ryan was the last. He holds a seashell, something Lauren had found on one of her walks on the beach and given to him. He stands there for a moment, holding the shell tightly before placing it in the casket. His hands are empty, lost, and my heart aches for him. The casket lowers into the ground, and as the earth begins to cover it, I feel as if a part of me is being buried along with Lauren. I want to scream, I want to cry, but I hold back. I know I need to be strong, not just for myself, but I hold back, because for some reason, that doesn't ease my pain. Not enough.

After the funeral, the people begin to disperse. My mother holds my hand, her eyes red from crying.

— She'll always be with us, Jennie, — she says, her voice shaking. — Always.

I just nod, not trusting my voice to answer. My eyes search for Ryan, who stands alone, staring at the earth that has just been covered. The distance between us feels insurmountable, and I feel powerless to reach him.

I wanted so badly for him to open up to me, to let me help him carry his grief. But he's been locked away in his own grief, unreachable. I've decided to give him space, hoping that in time, he'll find his way back.

The drive back home is silent. The rain continues to fall, and I don't know how we're going to move on without Lauren. We know how, but we don't want to continue a life without her. And I have to try to move on, for myself and for Ryan. And for my mother, who is grieving one of the losses of her life. As for Ryan, even if he doesn't realize it now, I will be there for him, waiting patiently until he is ready to let me in again.

As we drive away from the cemetery, I look back one last time. Lauren's grave is covered in flowers and mementos, a testament to the impact she has had on our lives. It makes me think about how life can be so fragile, that no matter how strong we are in the face of hardship, it is like a thin thread, ready to snap at any moment.