And Then Death Held Out His Hand

White Roses

In the mirror, a skinny girl stares back at me. Her eyes sunken, black hollows underneath them, her bones showing through the material of the dress. She moves when I do, wears the same dress, but she isn't me. The dress I wear is white, the chosen colour  for the funeral.
Over my head, the beginnings of hair start to grow. It means I can start to forget that the cancer might come back. My necklace sparkles on my neck, as bright as my eyes, which are wet with tears. On the bench beside me are five of the many pills I still have to take. It would be so easy, to overdose, to not take them at all, to end the pain. But it wouldn't be fair.
Not when they spent so long saving my life.

The girl in the mirror tips back the pills and swallows them. But she doesn't seem to feel the pain as they go down.
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The church fills up with people all in white. The coffin at the front is small, the white roses covering the top. A photo of Echo sits on top, smiling bright and happy. Cancer free.
My breath catches when I see her long blonde hair, a waterfall flying out behind her. Her eyes sparkle as she flys higher on the brightly painted swing.

What a little girl is meant  to look  like.
At the front of the room, Jacobs parents stand staring at the picture of their little girl, their now only child beside them. I stand, steady my breathing and move towards the couple. Jacob turns and sees me, reaching out to grab my hand. His fingers are warm, causing tingly warmth to spread up my wrist. His arm circles my waist, keeping me rooted, becoming my rock.

His mother looks at me with despairing eyes and holds out one of her many roses wordlessly. I clutch it  to my chest and turn to burry my face in Jacobs shoulder, my eyes open, looking at Echo's picture.

We take our seats in the front row, Jacob clutching my hand as his eyes brighten with unshed tears. The priest begins to speak, and we stand to sing hymns and listen to Echo's favourite songs. I recognise the lullaby from the hospital, it's words perfect in the moment, causing tears to cascade down the faces around me.
Jacob stands to give his speech, his hand trembling. The church is quiet, relatives sitting with upturned faces wet with tears. Jacob looks at his speech and slowly, with a deep breath, rips it in half.

"My sisters favourite flowers were roses, in particular white roses. She said to me once they remind her of the new beginning, the colour of change. On a weekend, she and I would ride our bikes to the gardens, were we would chase one another between the flowers. Eventually, we would collapse on the grass, gasping with laughter. Even though Echo was only young, she understood things, better than most people. One day she said to me, "What would you do if I died?"

Jacobs voice shakes, his eyes flitting up to meet mine.

"And I answered by flipping her on to her back and tickling her, making her laugh. So many questions stayed unanswered, so many things unsaid. I still don't know the answer to that question, even after it happened. In thirty years, I'll still be looking for the answer."

Jacob moves to his seat, leaving the audience in tears. He gives me a weak smile and I lay my head on his shoulder.

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The graveyard is empty apart from our group. I still clutch the rose, it's leaves slightly wilted and specked with blood from when I clutched it to hard. The coffin is lowered and the crowd begins to disperse.

"This is goodbye then," Jacobs voice is barely audible.

The white roses on the gravesite blur as fresh tears drip from my eyes.

"If Echo was here, she'd say it was merely a new beginning."

He reaches out and places his rose amongst the others, his message to her tied to the stem. I place mine along side his and am met mid step with his lips.

He presses his mouth gently against mine, his hand making patterns on my neck and back, trailing down to my hips. His thumb slides under my collar, over my collarbone, sending shivers down my spine.

We brake apart, breathless and I'm greeted by his smile. The first true one in what feels like years. One that is hiding tears.