She's Gone and I'm Lost

07 | the funeral

dedicated to wentzerifiic for all of their nice comments and votes. (p.s. nice username (: fob is life)

07 | the funeral

December 29th | 1:13 am

I had that same dream again. And again. And again.

But now that I knew that Alex was dead, it seemed so much more real. Before, I knew it was just a dream. I knew that Alex could be back any second. But now, my nightmare had come to life. Before, I knew it was okay to just stand there and watch as Alex walked off the side of that cliff. Because it was just a dream. But now, my immobility became torture. Because if I could move, if I could just reach out and grab her hand, I could have saved her. But I was frozen, I was forced to stand by and watch as Alex took one step after the other. Each step moving her closer and closer to the edge until she was falling down, into the water below. And, like always, she never came back up.

| | | | |

It took forever to get out of my bed the next morning. I had always been a morning person, but after everything that had happened, I couldn't see a reason to get up. Before, I was holding onto the hope that any minute Alex could call and tell me she was coming back. But now, she was gone. And my hope died when Alex did.

And poor Marleen, had to try to keep me together. We were both grieving, but she was the one that felt like she had to help me. She had to drag me out of my bed and pull me down the stairs, doing all this while dealing with her own battles. That just made me feel even more guilty. I told her she should go home and stop worrying about me, but she refused. My mom had made pancakes that morning. She usually only made pancakes when she had bad news to tell us. I assumed that she was just feeling sorry for me, which I hated, but it turns out she was bearing bad news as well, which I hated even more.

Marleen was taking a shower and my mom, dad, Stella, and I were sat at the table. My parents were having a silent conversation and my sister was happily eating her pancakes. She kept trying to make conversation with me but I didn't say much. She gave up eventually. After ten minutes of simply staring at the food on my plate, I decided that I just wanted to leave. Before I could put my plan into motion, my dad started to speak.

"Danika," he said. He seemed hesitant, and I found myself wondering what he was going to say. "The funeral is today." I closed my eyes, but strangely didn't feel like I was going to cry. 

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" I asked with my eyes still closed, head bowed down so no one could see my face. My black hair was loosely hanging, and I was grateful that it covered my expression. I hadn't bothered to brush it this morning. I could see no point in it.

"You were upset, we didn't want to spring a funeral onto you right after you got out of the hospital," my mom stepped in. I wanted to say, 'I'm always going to be upset. A funeral isn't going to make it worse.' But I decided against it. There was no use in worrying them further. I just nodded and stood up, leaving the table. I dumped my pancakes in the trash, feeling bad afterwards as I thought of all the homeless people who had never had a pancake in their life. I wondered if Marleen knew that the funeral was that day. If so, why would she keep this information from me? My question was answered when she walked into the room. She was wearing a pair of black skinny jeans and a black blouse. It was just the right blend of formal and casual that you would expect from Marleen. I suddenly saw a vision of a six year old version of her in a pink dress. I remembered that day that she had joined our group. She had changed so much that day.

"You knew," I stated. It wasn't a question but it wasn't an accusation either, just a statement.

"I'm sorry, Danika. I'm sorry that this was just sprung onto you, but it's going to be okay," she said, sitting down next to me. I nodded, even though I didn't believe her in the slightest.