Grayscale

Chapter Twenty-Six

A person can only hear "I'm sorry" so many times before she stops listening. I'd been blocking out people for almost two full days now. Gabriel, although he had never actually met Reed, sat with me in the second row, staring solemnly up at his casket while we waited for the preacher to come to the front of the room and begin the service.

There were pictures of Reed all over the place – ones from when he was little, before the majority of his siblings had been born, ones from family vacations over the years, where a sibling was added in each photo, ones from school events, ones from holidays, sleepovers, you name it. Reed's family and friends had had no problem documenting his life. The one picture that meant the most to me, though, was tucked away inside his coffin, where no one could see it. I had been here earlier today, before anyone else but his family had arrived. They gave me privacy, allowing me to do whatever I needed to in order to mourn before the crowd came.

Tucked in his suit jacket pocket was the picture I drew of him sitting in the fountain on the day we met. It felt right for him to have it.

The room was buzzing with noise and activity. I wasn't sure how a place that loud could still have such a somber mood, but it did. Maybe all the black? Perhaps the dead boy at the front of the room? I wasn't sure.

Food from yesterday's viewing was still in the fridge in the funeral home's kitchenette, and older aunts and uncles went in and out, fetching snacks for hungry little kids, mostly Reed's younger siblings. People were all talking about Reed – the crazy shit he had done as a small child, the grades he had received, where he could have gone with his life – and I was overwhelmed with guilt. I wanted very much to lace my fingers with Gabriel's and squeeze as hard as I could to stop the flow of tears, but it felt wrong to even look at him here, so instead, I shoved my hands into my armpits and dug my fingernails into my sides, hoping it would have the same effect.

As anyone who has ever self-harmed before would know though, my nails didn't quite dig deep enough to do damage enough to take my mind off of the situation.

After what felt like hundreds of years, I saw the priest off to the side of the room, talking with Reed's mom, his eyes darting to the pulpit. He was finally about to make his way up to the front of the room to eulogize Reed.

I looked down to my feet, and after a minute or two, the priest cleared his throat at the microphone, and the room went almost completely silent, save for some sniffles, and one crying infant in the back of the room. "The one who formed you says, 'Do not be afraid, for I have ransomed you. I have called you by name; you are mine. When you go through deep waters, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown. When you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not burn up; the flames will not consume you... You are precious to me. You are honored, and I love you.'" His voice sounded exactly like a priest's should – strong, but not obnoxious, somewhere just short of booming. Preach-y. But even as someone who wasn't sure what she believed in anymore, his words were comforting. "In this room today, staring at the body of a boy taken at such a young age, it may be hard to believe it, but the Lord has a plan. Reed suffered a great deal in his life – especially after losing Madeline, God rest her soul. But the Lord says, "When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown." Reed didn't drown. His death wasn't the end, and we shouldn't mourn his passage from this world. Reed is moving onto bigger and better things, and we can only thank our merciful Lord that he isn't on this Earth left to suffer anymore. God, who raised Jesus from the dead, will give new life to our own mortal bodies through his sprit living in us."

After that, I stopped listening. It wasn't that I didn't want to hear what the priest had to say or that his words didn't bring some comfort, however small it was – it was just that if I listened to him, if I accepted that Reed was moving on to wherever we go after this life, it was real. Then he would really be gone.

I knew that was stupid.

I was sitting at his funeral, looking everywhere I could but at his coffin, my eyes still resting on something of him everywhere I turned – a picture, a relative, his favorite flower – and I still was having issues accepting that he was really gone. I thought that maybe if I just ignored the situation, if I didn't listen, then maybe this could all be some sort of sick nightmare. Maybe I would wake up back at that coffee shop or at the fountain, and everything would be okay again. Maybe I would wake up and things would be different, and there was a road that didn't lead to Reed's early death.

But the priest kept talking, and I still wasn't waking up.

Gabriel reached over and gently pulled my hands out of my armpits, where they'd stayed firmly tucked for quite some time. Not for the first time that day, he laced his fingers with mine. Although, where I normally would have pulled away, this time, I didn't. Instead, I gave his hand a hard squeeze, which he returned. We stayed like that for the rest of the priest's speech, which seemed to last forever, before he led the room in prayer.

For the first time since I was a little girl, I bowed my head, closed my eyes, and spoke to God.

Lord, please forgive me for all the pain I've caused Reed. I hurt him so much, and he didn't deserve a single bit of it. Please forgive me for leaving this beautiful family without a member. Forgive me for robbing all of his friends of an incredibly funny, intelligent and loving friend. Forgive me for all of the lives I've left holes in. Forgive me for that day at the fountain, where I fell for his sad eyes, because if that hadn't happened, maybe he would have had a chance – maybe he would still be alive. And Lord, wherever he is, I pray that he's happy. I pray that he's with Madeline, because that's all he ever wanted. This is such a shit situation – forgive my language, too – and I need something good to have come of this. Please let there be something after this. Please. Let them be together. Let him be smiling without inhibitions, without sadness in his eyes. Please. He deserves it. Amen.

When my head rose, I realized most people had been done with their prayer for some time. Gabriel's eyes were on me, and there was so much pity, so much sorrow, I almost wanted to hit him. None of this was really his fault though – he was trying to support me, and Reed's death – though the soulmate thing was two way – was on me, so I kept my hands to myself.

The priest finished up with another Bible verse, and then the whole room rose to sing the Lord's My Shepherd. Even with the words printed on the order of service now gripped tightly in the hand that wasn't holding Gabriel's, I had a hard time following the song. My voice was gone, and my head was swimming.

Marching. Quietly in the back of my mind, almost as if they didn't dare disturb me today, but had to remind me that things could always get worse.

After that, I didn't remember anything until we got to the graveyard.