Fragile

The Funeral

Miracle was dead. Her whole family, all her friends, the whole school mourned her death. The funeral was announced to be the 27th, a mere ten days after her death. It was too soon.

I cried for hours on end. I went through all our old photos. I looked back upon all the experienced shared along the years, the good, the bad, and the ugly. And they all blurred together in a nostalgia, because they were with her.

I tried to think about what I could have done, why I should have done, to change the scenario to one where she didn't die. I blamed myself and I blamed James, who had called her, and I blamed the drunk driver. But most of all, I blamed myself.

The grief and pain and consuming regret numbed, on about the eighth day. Nothing mattered at that moment. I didn't want to eat, I didn't want to get dressed, I just wanted to lay in bed. Not sleep, because sleep brought nightmares and terrible flashbacks of the crash.

Looking back, my family was always offering comfort and support, but I was inconsolable. I'm sorry I was such a wreck, mom and dad. I just want to thank you in this account of mine, and let it be known that you guys were great. It was all just a natural part of grieving.

I found the strength to drag myself to the funeral. I would have never forgiven myself if I had skipped it, but it was still painful. It brought back a rush of emotions back to the surface. I tasted regret and guilt and sorrow and pain, and they were bitter.

The viewing was packed. There was the multitude of Miracle's family, : her mother, her father, her many siblings, her aunts, her uncles, her cousins, her grandparents, and I even saw her birth parents show up.

Her many, many friends showed up. They wept like Alice, from Alice in Wonderland, who almost drowned in her own tears. There was Kate, and Jordan, and Kylie- all our friends from school.

And then there were people I didn't know. Perhaps I had seen them in the halls, or glanced at them at lunch, but I didn't know them. They came to pay their respects as well. I was a little indignant that those who didn't even know her came to show up. How dare they? I pinned them as imposters. They were only people pretending to mourn, aiming to gain sympathy for themselves.

Looking back, I was wrong, and I'm sorry to those who I judged wrongly. I was hurting and angry. A death has a ripple effect, and they were most certainly affected too.

There was one man there who stood out. He was perhaps in his mid-30s, and was impeccably dressed in a black suit and dress shoes. But his eyes were what had caught my attention. They were a piercing ice blue, which contrasted with his dark skin. He was undeniably beautiful, but there was an unnatural air around him. Otherworldly, you could say.

All of the sudden, he turned and looked straight at me. He seemed surprised to see me staring at him. I looked away immediately and blushed. He was quite attractive, but I immediately felt guilt settle in my stomach. Here I was, staring at attractive strangers when I should be mourning Miracle's death. Pricked by guilt, I walked away to go offer my condolences to Miracle's parents.

Miracle's mother's small frame shook with sobs. Her husband rubbed her shoulders in an attempt to comfort her, tears running down his face as well.

"Mrs. Cindy," I whispered. She glanced up, her eyes red and swollen. Her gaze softened when she saw me. "Oh, darling," she whispered, and enveloped me in a hug. We hugged for a long time, but no words were said.

Sometimes silence is enough.

We were both two hurting people, hurting because of the same reason. I felt as if the emotions shared between us were almost tangible: grief, loss, regret, guilt, pain, sorrow, aching emptiness.

Footsteps came up behind us, and we released the hug and turned to face the approaching person. It was one of Miracle's brothers, Josh. I remembered him well- he was always making jokes trying to get people to laugh. He and Miracle had been extremely close; he was the only person she would've told a secret to before me.

Today he was finely dressed, (though not quite as crisp as that strange man), and there was no smile in his eyes. He held a certain seriousness which I had never seen in him before. I couldn't have even imagined what he was going through.

He placed a gentle hand on his mother's shoulder. He was the spitting image of her. He leaned in to whisper something in her ear, and she nodded and hugged him.

I turned away, excusing myself to go walk to the casket. Miracle lay there, beautiful in death as she was in life. But the smile which usually graced her face was absent. Tears started to pour down my face as I looked at my best friend of 10 years for the last time.

Suddenly I couldn't take it anymore. There was a huge weight on my chest that threatened to crush me. I wanted to leave. I shouldn't have come, I thought, it was too soon, too fresh.

As I was leaving the funeral, I saw the strange man. I was consumed with the need to know who he was and why he was here. Who was he to show up to Miracle's funeral? Something about him just seemed wrong and I wouldn't accept it.

I began to walk quickly to catch up with him. As I did, I felt cold seep into my bones.

That probably should have been my first sign that something was very very wrong with about him. But I didn't care. Looking back, it was strange, the sudden obsession with him. It was like I knew I was destined to come across him.

When I caught up with him, I reached to grab his arm. I wanted to get his attention. But before I could touch him, he jerked away. He spun to face me and met my eyes, his icy gaze sending chills down my back. I can't exactly describe what I was feeling then, only that I knew that we were destined to encounter one another.

His harsh voice broke my reverie, "Don't you know better than to touch Death?"