Gone

It's not till you understand the person is really gone. That the person that died is in the casket before you, perhaps it's opened or closed, but that's when it hits you. When you see friends and family crying of the person, people you know and some you don't, it still pains you.

I went to my first funeral the other day. I had struggled through the viewing and thought the worst was over, but it wasn't. When you're sitting in those pews and you listen to the priest talk about your friend that you realize again is no longer going to be there to give you another smile, it hits very hard.

I didn't want to accept that, and I still don't...part of me doesn't and never will. No one ever wants to say goodbye when the other one can't answer back. I can't elaborate...it'll hurt too much. At least now it will, perhaps later it won't. Maybe I'll never speak of death again because expiriencing it first hand is really tough.

As I laid my last flower for my friend, I said goodbye, touched the casket, and walked away. I couldn't bare to face the family again or his friends...some of them my friends. Then you tell yourself that you did all you could and nothing in the world could change what happened.

Probably years from now if I ever visit my friend again in the cemetery, I'll remember only the good that happened. Not the pain I suffered long after he was gone. No, that wouldn't be right at all to only remember pain. It seems that remembering the good times is the best thing to do because that's what my friend would have wanted.

So perhaps...days, weeks, months, or years, I'll write about this in more detail.