Changed For The Better

Funeral

The drive to the funeral was silent. Everyone was wearing black, or clothing that was dark enough to count as respectful. I wish I didn't have to go. Not because I don't want to pay my respects, but because I don't want to say goodbye to Harley.

Don't get me wrong, he was a total dick sometimes. But at the same time, he was going through so much. He probably wasn't completely to blame for his actions. It doesn't excuse it, and I never really liked him, but I will probably miss him. Maybe I relied on him more than I thought I did.

My hands were shaking as the car came to a stop at the cemetery where Harley's Mum was buried. Ryan placed his hand on top of mine and gave it a squeeze. I looked at him to see a sorrowful look in his eyes.

We climbed out of the minibus and wandered over to where there were some chairs set up, and a coffin was hung over an open grave, right next to his Mum's. There were flowers on top of the coffin and an arch thing, where a formal man was standing. I'm guessing he is leading the service.

There were a lot of other people there. Gary, Harley's Dad was there, surrounded by other family members. They were quietly talking among themselves. Sharing their grievances among themselves and reflecting on his life.

I feel horrible. If it weren't for me then they wouldn't be here, and this is their second funeral here recently. But today isn't about me This is all about Harley, and the life that ended way too soon.

We all stood around in a bit of a lump. None of us knew anyone else there, apart from me knowing Gary but I wanted to avoid talking to him if I could. What could I possible say?

Ryan had his arm around me the entire time. I don't know if it was more for me or for him, and I don't know if it helped. Every time he rubbed my back or moved his hand slightly, it just reminded me of why we are here and almost made me cry more.

After a short while, and when some more people had arrived, we were asked to take our seats. We sat towards the back, but not right at the back. It made me see how many people really cared for Harley, how many people were hurt by his suicide, and how much pain it has caused. Did he really not know of all the people that cared? Could he really not see?

We waited for the start of the service. I was nervous, but Ryan must have noticed. He kept holding hy hands or rubbing my back. I think Luke had his eye on me as well.

Eventually, after what felt like forever, the formal man began his talking. I've never been to a funeral before, well not one that I remember anyway. I didn't know what to expect. At the front, next to the coffin, they had a framed picture of Harley. He was smiling and looked happy, which is sadly ironic.

The speaker spoke about Harley's life and did some blessings, and less than halfway into the service I started crying. Ryan reached into his pocket and brought out a packet of tissues which he silently handed me. Good thing too, otherwise I would have sniffed and snotted and been ruining the whole thing.

It was just so difficult hearing him talking about Harley when Harley was the last thing I wanted to think about. I know I have to think of it and I have to get through it, but it would be so much easier if I could forget about it. I don't think I ever will. I'll never forget how he said "This is you. All you". Those words will haunt me for the rest of my life.

"...And now, we will hear a few words from Harley's best friend, Marie Riley"

There was a small applause and I felt sick. I never formally agreed, but I did bring with me the paper where I had written a bit down. I was planning on letting him be buried with it. It's weird how he said I was his best friend. Hardly. It kind of proves how much he kept to himself.

I felt Ryan give my hand a tight squeeze as I got the scrunched up paper out of my bag. Everyone watched as I made my way up to the front to the wooden podium where the speaker was previously standing.

I unfolded the paper and looked at everyone who was there. There were some crying, others not. Some clearly in more pain than others. I think a lot of people were just there for moral support. There was a reasonably large crowd, and I was more nervous in this moment then I ever have been performing in front of any sized crowd.

This is my final chance to say what I want to say to Harley. If I mess this up, I can't go back or try again. And everyone is watching me, anticipating something amazing.

"Hello" I croaked "My name is Marie, and I don't know if best friend is the best description for me, but still. I'm not too sure of what I'm supposed to say. I will miss Harley, we all will. He was lost in the worst possible way anyone could ever be lost; suicide. He was just 16, he still had room to grow and become an even better person"

There was no point in telling them that he was actually a horrible person most of the time. That was unnecessary and didn't need to happen. There is no reason for me to ruin all of these people's impressions of him, especially since he is gone.

"I rather hoped that I would never be in this position, not with Harley. We helped each other, a lot in fact. He understood me more than many people could and..." I took a moment to stop myself from breaking down in tears. "And I never gave him enough credit for that.

If he were here, well, I just wish I had shown him how much he meant to me. I would tell him how much I cared about him, and make sure that he never doubted that. In reality I don't deserve to be here now, telling you all that I regret not treating him better, I'm sure most of you are feeling the same.

But Harley, wherever you are now, I wish peace upon you, and I am so, so sorry"

Ryan's POV

Everyone clapped quietly, there wasn't a dry eye in the room. I know that whatever Marie is saying, isn't what she has written on that paper. She hasn't even looked at it since she unfolded it. This is killing her. She's crying her eyes out and struggling to speak, I just want to give her a massive hug.

She caught her breath as everyone recovered from what she had said. What she said wasn't as meaningful as whatever it was she wanted to say. Her pale face showed her nerves which clearly overcame her now. She shakily folded up the paper again and came to sit back down.

I wrapped my arm round her and she instantly leant on my shoulder and chest, burying her head on me. I don't know if she feels shame, or guilt...but I slowly rubbed up and down her arm to sooth her. She was in pieces.