Awful Direction

The Past.

She felt like an obnoxious purple dot drowning in a sea of black. Wearing the violet dress her mother once loved suddenly felt like a mistake. There was no need to turn around; she could feel the judgemental gazes singing the back of her hair. Devon had already known this day would feel endless, but she never imagined it to be this painfully ongoing. Every minute dragged on as if it were an hour; all Devon wanted to do was scream and run for the exit. She looked to her left and saw her father staring straight ahead at nothing, looking completely numb. And to her right her grandmother was hysterical, no one bothered to calm her down.

Trying again to swallow the lump in her throat, Devon’s eyes fell to the glossy black coffin in front of the pews. She was in denial just like everyone else; refusing to believe the truth as is smacked her across the face. It was hard bowing her head, whispering prayers, when her mother had never been a believer in God. It felt wrong leaving her this way, Devon knew this wasn’t how her mother would have wanted to say goodbye. She would’ve wanted bright colors, uplifting music, and no churches.

But Devon’s grandmother, Michelle, had insisted they have a traditional funeral, and she was never denied her way. Which caused Devon to ask herself another question; why was her grandmother suddenly so concerned for her daughter? She had been drowning herself in money for almost twenty years, without so much as a phone call on the holidays, yet suddenly she was smothering her family with love and kisses. For as long as Devon could remember, the only thing Michelle held compassion for was her check book. Greed was a small price to pay when publishing two best-seller novels. For years Devon was known as the granddaughter of beloved author Michelle Hennings; without even knowing herself who Michelle Hennings was.

Yet her grandmother had taken it upon herself to plan the entire funeral, and now here she was falling to pieces over a woman, Devon believed, she hardly knew. Like most other aspects of this afternoon, it didn’t feel right.

“Lillian is with God now, in heaven,” the priest said, “She’s touched many hearts over the course of her time on Earth. And now she’s left us in peace, and her suffering is over.”

Devon winced at his final statement. Her suffering is over. A new wave of guilt washed over Devon’s shoulders as she lowered her head in shame. This was her fault, everyone thought so. No one needed to say it; she looked around the room and saw the thought bubbles over their heads. If only she had just spoken up, done something to help, instead of sitting idly in the corner of the room. Her mother had been sick and she thought if she didn’t speak of it, it would go away. Of course that eventually landed her in the front row of a pew sadly overlooking her mother’s coffin.

“Will Lillian’s daughter now make her way to the podium and make a final speech?”

Her legs felt sore from sitting for so long. Nausea rolled in the pit of Devon’s stomach as she turned to face the crowd. She imagined they expected the speech of a lifetime, something from the heart. Some held looks of sympathy in their eyes as Devon leaned against the podium to speak, others couldn’t even see her through their tears. They were wondering why she wasn’t crying, she could feel it. People her mother hardly knew were falling apart at the seams, yet she couldn’t squeeze out a single tear.

Mom wouldn’t have wanted this, Devon thought to herself. Her eyes fell upon her father, still frozen in the same position he had been in for nearly two hours, and she knew her mother would’ve slapped him silly for looking so broken. That sort of thing, wearing your heart on your sleeve, embarrassed Devon’s mother. And everything else today was the opposite of what her mother wanted, so it was the least she could do to put on a brave face. You can either let this kill you, or use it as a life lesson. Devon’s mother always used to say that about everything; even when it didn’t make sense.

The words which had been hastily scribbled upon note cards suddenly looked all wrong. This was Devon’s last goodbye to her mother. Her eyes looked from the guests, impatiently waiting for her to speak, to her note cards and back. Michelle had specifically asked her to behave, so as not to ruin her reputation or embarrass her in front of family. She was an intimidating woman; until now Devon hadn’t even moved, out of fear of upsetting Michelle.

Suddenly though, she was overwhelmed with the feeling of valor.

And with an almost unnoticeable crooked grin, she looked to the crowd and began to speak.

*~*
John found himself at a loss for words. For the first time in his life, he had nothing to say. All he could bring himself to do was stare absentmindedly into the eyes of strangers. It frustrated him to see so many unfamiliar faces mourning over a girl they’d never even known. They couldn’t feel half of what he felt. Not even a little bit. As he stood there, his throat sore from choking back tears, John wanted nothing more than the courage to scream at everyone who thought they had understood his girlfriend. To release the frustration and brokenness swelling up in his chest.

He could feel his mind shutting down, his aching body going numb. His mind was begging his eyes to turn away from the coffin, but no matter how badly he wanted to he couldn’t make himself look away. There were still so many things they needed to do together, so much John had wanted to tell her. It had always been so easy to find her, to talk to her, to go places with her and experience things. John regretted talking his time with her for granted.

I wish it had been me, he thought hopelessly, I wish I was the one in there.

Shame washed over him as another ball of tears clogged John’s throat. He wasn’t going to cry in front of these people, his pride was all he had left. An image of her ran through his mind, picturing the face she’d make if she saw him now. There wasn’t a time she had ever seen him without a smile, because that was the effect she had on him. Every day they were together she’d tease him and swear she’d make him cry one day. He’d laugh with her because he never believed she’d ever actually do it.

“John,” her father whispered, “Are you sure you can make the speech? I understand if it’s too hard…”

“No, I can do it.” He swallowed hard. “I just needed a minute. I’m fine.”

By now he could feel himself slowly slipping away. She had always had a good hold over him, playing with his emotions like a puppeteer. She wanted him to dance, he danced. She wanted to make him say things, he did without a second thought. Without her wiggling her fingers, and holding him in place, John couldn’t function. And now the strings were cut and he had no one to hold him up; he fell to the ground and shattered to pieces. It was hardest accepting she wouldn’t be there to put him back together anymore.

“There are so many things I wish I could say to her,” John began, his voice cracking, “She was always so modest, she handled compliments terribly. It was funny to watch her face heat up when a stranger told her how beautiful she was. And she would always yell at me for being so nice all the time. To be honest, I’m going to miss the sound of her voice screaming in my ear every day.”

Some in the crowd chuckled, others smiled to themselves. John took a moment to catch his breath; it was still so hard not to cry in front of them. He could still hear her voice, clearer than ever, scolding him for calling her ‘lovely’ or ‘gorgeous’ and arguing that she was just as good as every other girl. He was going to miss her modesty.

“She showered everyone with compliments. We’d be walking down the street and would see some random stranger on the phone or something. And she’d just walk right up to them and tell them how beautiful they were. Somehow she had a way of seeing inside of everyone. Knowing when you needed a compliment the most. She had so many friends because of that. Everyone loved her, I can’t think of a single person who ever hated her. She was a shoulder to cry on, she knew how to have a good time, she was the best at keeping secrets, she was,” He had to stop again and breathe. “She was my best friend.”

People were crying now, sobbing actually. His eyes remained fixed upon that damn coffin. Knowing any minute now, the second he finished speaking, they would take her away forever. With that thought in mind, he pleaded for five more minutes, and dragged on his speech for as long as he could.

“When I thought about my future, she was all I was sure about. I was going to spend the rest of my life with her. She had nearly everyone wrapped around her fingers. I’d do anything for her. If she asked me to pack up and leave, I’d be gone within the hour. If she told me to buy her a house, I’d buy her the most expensive one. If she wanted flowers, I’d find her favorites.” He was beginning to sound cheesy and ridiculous, even to himself. It was time to do everyone a favor and quickly say goodbye, like ripping off a band-aid. “We’re all losing a part of ourselves today. There isn’t anyone in the world who could replace her. But I think if she saw the way we’re acting now, she’d kick all of our asses.” Everyone laughed quietly. “So, for her, it’d be best if we all left remembering the good times.”

She’d be so proud of this speech. It was one of the best things John had ever written.

“And I think I’ve dragged this out as long as I could, so I guess this is the part where I really say goodbye.” He stepped forward, gently placing his hand on the coffin. It was cold, but smooth. A final image of her flashed through his mind and ran through his spine like electricity. He was going to miss her more than anyone could ever see. This is it then…he thought sadly.

“Bye Daisy.”