The Funeral

His coffin was lowered into the grave. I stood, not crying. I know how awful is it not to cry at your brother's funeral. I guess I was just too shocked to cry. When my body goes through extreme sadness or trauma, I just shut down. Which is what I was doing now. Just standing, not crying, not even acting like I was being pulled apart inside. Because I wasn't, I knew I would be, just not now. I heard sobs from all around me and I wanted to turn and tell them to shut up. No one knew Will like I did. We were alone, it has been just the of us for as long as I can remember. And I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. He was my best friend. They began to put dirt on top of the coffin. I turned around and I just left. I know mods of you are thinking, "how awful is she that she is leaving her brother's funeral." This wasn't his funeral. We had one a few weeks ago. You see my brother committed suicide. I didn't tell him to do it, and I tried to stop him. That's what his funeral was. He wanted to bury "his old self". He told me he was done with self harm and suicide attempts. And what was I supposed to do to help him? Me, a sixteen year old girl? I couldn't help him. He died so young, twenty two. That's why I left the funeral. Because he already had one. He was there to hold my hand as we buried "him" in the backyard. When I got home I saw the spot we buried the box in was empty. I gasped and ran into my room only to see the box, with dirt on it, sitting in front of my door. I opened it and it was filled to the brim with notes. Notes written by my brother. This is the story of my brother's death and the notes he wrote me.

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-Ally