december 13th

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today was the day.

i told myself i wouldn't go but a voice told me (besides my mom) i should.

what is the point of funerals? you're sad that they're gone but then you want to make a bigger deal out of it and make life harder on you than it already is.

i put on the closest to formal clothes i could find and headed for the door. don't worry i showered and all that stuff. we're just skipping that part.

my mom tapped my shoulder and gave me the sappy 'stay strong, darling' face. i nodded and left.

the drive was terrible. since i didn't have a car, michael's mom offered to take me. it was just 'michael this' and 'michael that'. i couldn't take it. i stayed silent, though. i sat and listened.

adults speaking highly of michael and the occasional sniffle and single tear.

i looked out the window to see people standing outside of a church in all black. i've never seen so much black clothing in my life. well, the second most. my closet you know.

i entered the doors of the church and faces. vaguely familiar faces. knowing i was michael's boyfriend they gave me sorry looks and pats on the shoulder.

i sat next to michael's family in one of the pews. his mom gave me an obituary. i took it and studied it.

Remembering The
Life Of Michael Gordan Clifford:

November 24th 1995 - December 4th 2016

i stroked his picture and smiled slightly

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i stroked his picture and smiled slightly. i started at his picture and started giggling. then i started laughing uncontrollably. remembering the good times we had. while i was daydreaming the service had started.

"welcome family and friends. we gather hear today to celebrate the life of our friend, our son, our boyfriend," the pastor looked at me.

"as you all know, michael committed suicide on december 4th," the pastor finished. i kept looking at him and nodding my head but after a while i zoned out.

::

we made it to the cemetary for the burial session. i still haven't shed a tear. there's no point. the pastor spoke his words though i didn't hear them. i set the flowers and the letter i wrote for him on his casket. i looked at karen and gripped her hand. i walked her to the hearse.

"honey, you don't need a ride?" she asked. i shook my head.

"i'll just call my mom, thanks." i replied. she patted my shoulder and told me to take care. i nodded and pulled out my phone.

she came fast and we went home with no conversation because she knew i didn't want to be bothered.

::

i ran to my room and slammed my door. i don't know why but all of a sudden i felt upset. not angry and not sad. just upset. i don't know what i was feeling. i started crying, knocking papers off my desk, and laughing all at the same time. then, i just collapsed and rocked back and forth with my legs to my chest.

i grabbed my favorite movie "the fault in our stars" and watched it about three times and fell asleep on the floor with my laptop in my lap that night.

kik | malum a.u.  ✓Where stories live. Discover now