Tied To The Past

chapter three

I could only vaguely feel Drena squeeze my hand in encouragement. I sat amongst the expected melancholy silence bitterly, fiddling with the paper where my speech had been scripted on. I knew that soon the speeches would come and i was maybe the second or the third last to go. I kept my head down, trying my best to avoid accidentally resting my gaze onto the coffin several feet away from me. I knew my eyes were moistening beneath my eyelashes and i closed my eyelids shut because i didn't want tears to slip out.

I had always been tough. Even in the worst times imaginable, i had never shed tears. But just like that, i had set an unbeatable record of crying non-stop for an entire week and i felt so un-Tyler like. I didn't feel like me. At all. Drena handed me a tissue but i didn't use it because in this quiet atmosphere, a slight movement of moving my arm up to raise a tissue my face was the same as telling everyone at the memorial service that i was crying. I didn't care if anyone else saw me cry. It was Drew that made me self concious. Drew always made me self concious. He got me thinking what i should wear every day. And now, i couldn't care less about how i looked. I had this feeling that maybe Drew would be watching me. From wherever he was at, he wouldn't want to see me cry.

The memorial service was more than just beautiful. And if i was anything other than wrecked, i would have noticed its great beauty. All i saw was beneath dimly lit chandeliers and lights was a sea of black clothing, shoes of people resting on an old-fashioned vintage carpet. The whole room was scented with flowers and when i had entered the room with Drena, i had looked around at every corner of the room from the wooden engraved walls to the brown expensive carpet detailed with designs of nature in the attempt to distract myself from crying. The only spot i hadn't looked at was the front. Where next to the podium, Drew's coffin sat with a potrait of his smiling face standing on an easel. Lightly fraganced wax candles surrounded the potrait, highlighting the burst of colour the flower bunches that sat on the floor brought. I couldn't look at the smiling Drew. I just couldn't. I very badly wanted to look up and see the familiar lips curved up in a smile, the arch of his jaw that i remembered all too clearly and the hauntingly beautiful hazel eyes i would have recognised anywhere but i couldn't. Seeing his face would hurt too much, way more than i knew i would be able to endure. Seeing his face would break my already broken heart, knowing that i would never be able to see him smile like that ever again.

I had fully crumpled up my script paper with the fiddling of my fingers by the time the speakers for the speech had come to Drew's mother's turn. I turned my head around to where Drew's relatives sat and mustered up my remaining energy to put up a sad smile for Drew's mother. I understood how she felt inside and i knew that it was hurting her like it was hurting me. If i couldn't help myself, i could at least help her. Drew's mother shakily stood up, letting go of the hands of Drew's father which she had clutched all too tightly earlier.

Her face was as wet as mine was, and the melancholy silence increased by a notch or two as Drew's mother walked her way to the podium. I braced myself as i stared up at her. They looked exactly the same. Drew and his mom. It was hard to focus on the words she spoke, all i could see was the face that looked so alike the one i knew so well. The one with the same brown eyes, the same black hair, the same thick lips. Drew's mother was crying softly, but her face was still rich with a mother's comfort and a determined smile. Her branded necklace shone by her neck. Drew had come from a wealthy family, and i recognised the necklace Drew's mother wore as a similar style to one she had given me as a gift. I remembered how i refused, feeling guilty receiving some priceless jewellery when i didn't even wear jewellery. That day, i had that very necklace in my dress pocket. It was something i had to remember Drew by and there was no way i wouldn't keep it just because i wouldn't wear it. I admired Drew's mother. For being able to smile despite reading off a script for her dead son. Despite losing her son.