The Ghost Of Tomorrow.(ON HOLD)

Chapter One-The Idea Of Daniel.

Have you ever laughed at a funeral? You know those heartfelt laughs, silent, breathless and long but then they also sound humorless. They sound deranged, maybe psychotic.

I tuck my chin against my chest. Draw my legs up in the seat I sit on and tightly warp my arms around them.

I probably should not sit like this at a funeral. I might appear disrespectful -not to the deceased no- but to his parents.
I kind of don't care actually. Not at the moment anyway. It might be my grief stricken mind that's thinking like this, but I honestly feel as if my loss has more magnitude compared to theirs.
They gave birth to him and raised him, so they had 18 years with him as opposed to the one year I had.
I probably sound selfish now.

One entire year and all I had to remember it by is a gut wrenching heart ache. For the past two weeks since Daniel committed suicide, and his parents had been planning his funeral, my heart has been breaking. It was just a crack in the beginning. A crack that grew in size every time I replayed Daniel throwing himself off the roof of a 10 storey building. A crack that at this point has formed into a earthquake sized gaping hole.

Black strands of my shoulder length hair frames my face, as silent tears slowly roll down my cheeks.

This must be ruining my make up. I think.
My body shakes some more with with silent laughter. I really hope the people who are already here are not paying attention to me, and if they are I hope they think am crying my eyes out.

I tighten my hold, on my legs, as the tears increase soaking the hem of the lace black dress I wear.
The long sleeved one that Daniel loves. Loved.
I don't understand how I can laugh so profoundly and yet feel such loss.

The sound of shuffling feet fills the funeral house Chapel. Along with soft murmurs as people take their seats, settling in for Mass. A catholic mass that will include praying over the troubled departed soul. It is a way of consoling the loved ones of the deceased. Attempting to help them come to terms with what happened and to find a semblance of closure.
I snort to myself. Fat chance of that happening.

The seat on my left side scratches against the Mabel floor of chapel, and I'm suddenly enveloped in a warm hug. The smell of honey assaults my senses and I breath in snuggling deeper into the hug.

Mum.

Her concerned stare rests on me. She wipes at the smudges of mascara under my eyes. My lips twitch as I attempt to suppress the deranged smile fighting to take over my face.

My mother must see the straggle because her concerned look turns into a look of disapproval. She must be remembering what happened at My fathers funeral. Even then eight years ago at the age of ten, I had the undesirable trait of laughing during funerals. The horrible part is that at my Dad's funeral I had not attempted to stop the laughter.
It came out. Loud and crazy. I spent the reminder of that day in the car park, passed out in the backseat of my mother's car, exhausted from laughter and tears. I did not even attend the burial.
I cannot let that happen again.

"Nevaeh.... Please don't do this again", she pleads, quickly stealing a look at the Peru family that seats on my other side. I cast them a glance. Mr Peru looks prim and polished, not a hair out of place, face stoic. He holds his wife Joanna -Mrs Peru- whose eyes are blood shot from crying and probably from self medication, the alcoholic kind, preferably vodka maybe Ram. Her face is drenched in tears and she stares at her sons closed casket unseeing.
They are a sight.

In the seat right next me is his older brother- Daniels - Sean who dropped everything he had been doing in the UK, and had rushed home when he heard. He's quiet and his eyes shine with unshed tears. I can tell he's hurting and if he were alone he would have broken down and cried himself dry.
That's how much he loved his brother.
I can only guess that he is trying to stay strong.
Probably for all of us.

I give my mother a pained smile. My lips stretched over bared teeth. I think it must appear grim really. I hope it smothers her fears. I know my smile would scare me if i saw it in the mirror.

We sit in the front roll with the Perus.
Joanna's idea.
A way to show I was an important part of Daniels and their lives.
I saved him you see.
When I talked to him at the beginning of our senior year. According to his mother he had attempted suicide right before our meeting. I only delayed the inevitable, because a year later another suicide attempt succeed.

Placing me in the front roll was a bad idea. Unlike his mother I glare at Daniels casket. The laughter and tears have died down, and anger replaces them. I must be going through the 5 stages of grief in one day. Is it still 5 when you are grieving suicidal death?

I have so much hatred for Daniel right now. I guess they are right when they say there is a thin line between love and hate. I've loved him and now I hate him.

I could tear him apart if he were here right now. Literally.
I would want to make him hurt the way he has made his family, friends and I hurt.
I don't even understand why he gets a funeral. In the past catholics didn't permit having funerals for people who committed suicide. It had something to do with taking the life that you as Gods creation had no right to take.

Maybe if we had a memorial I would be a bit more lenient towards the idea.
Maybe not, because then I would have to remember Daniel and he is by far the last thing I want to remember.
If I don't remember, the pain would go away. It would hurt less. If I don't remember, it would seem as though I had never made the decision to insert him in my life. I would have carried on with my life without ever having known him, without knowing this pain.

I could have wondered what if? for a few months and forgotten all about him. He would have just been a tragedy in the wind.

I feel a light tag on the sleeve of my dress. I get to my feet along with the rest of the crowd in the chapel. The priest walks down the aisle to the alter.

We sit.

The priest starts the mass with a prayer and I drift off into a daydream, a memory. The memory of how the idea of Daniel began.

Okay that was the first chapter . Tell me what you think.
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Really looking forward to hearing from all possible readers.

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Until next time!