FALLING AROUND YOU ➵ DANIEL SEAVEY ➵ SEQUEL

25 ➵ I Don't Want To Be Okay Without Him

"I feel as if I'm not allowed to grieve over you. When you were here, all I did was make your suffering worse. I feel as if my life continues with another, I'm cheating on you, but you're dead."

—

The funeral was exactly three days later. It was on the day that I was suppose to leave, the day I was initially suppose to receive his letter. The ceremony was delicate and small. Not many people had been able to flight out in such short notice, but I didn't mind. I didn't think the Grays' minded much either.

There was a sickening part of me that thought they wanted to bury their son quickly. I almost felt much too sure with their quick plans for the wake and the ceremony, but it wasn't because they wanted to get it over with. It was because it hurt so much to say goodbye, to say a final goodbye.

After the news of Charlie's death, Mr. Gray told me that Charlie's body was still intact after the seizure, but his brain was already so incredibly damaged. They didn't know when he would wake, or if he would at all, so they had to pull the plugs on the machinery, keeping him alive. I couldn't even imagine that sort of pain.

It was the pain of knowing there was still hope in his son's rehabilitation, but the notion that splintered reality was still in charge of his fate. I couldn't imagine the pain of seeing yourself kill your own son, but I believed that pulling the plug would have been easier than holding onto a future that would never even arrive. Still, only a miracle could have woken Charlie up, and even if that happened, he wouldn't be the same. Charlie wouldn't be Charlie anymore; he would be stripped of his own identity. 

His mother's sobs are ultimately engrained in my memory. They were purely horrific. Mr. Gray didn't shed any visible tears during his funeral, but I knew his heart was torn from his chest. Their only son, their joy, was gone. I found myself full of tears when I saw his body in the casket. 

Daniel wanted to accompany me, but I declined. He's been sleeping in the hotel with me since the day at the hospital. My bed was more than enough for two bodies, but ever since Charlie's passing, it just felt wrong to be that close to him. It felt wrong that another man was so prominent in my life. He sleeps on the couch instead, never wanting to leave my side, just in case one night I crack. 

I didn't need distractions from this day. In all honesty, I didn't want to think about Daniel or anything at all. I just wanted to think about Charlie. I wanted to try my best to piece together the sounds of his laugh or memorize the little cracks of his smile. I feared most that I would forget the little things that made Charlie Charlie. If I lost those memories, that would be it. 

That's when I would really lose him forever. 

His letter was still in my hands when I got home from the hospital. His letter was in my hands during his funeral. His letter was still in my hands after. I didn't let it go. When I went somewhere, the letter would be in my bag. Before I went to bed, I reread the words. I've basically memorized it at this point. The edges were becoming crisp but still smooth. It felt rotten if another could see his words. I felt selfish for not sharing the beauty in the way he could speak, but this wasn't for the world or for his parents. 

It was for me. 

I was allowed to be selfish with that letter. No one would read his words besides me, and that gave me close comfort. It felt that his letter was our little secret. His letter made me feel like he was still alive, still one phone call away.