Watch You Take The Fall

I can't remember with much clarity, the events of the week that followed. Looking back on it, my memory is hazed by a flurry of flowers, planning and sympathy. The week rushed by without my needing to speak for the most part. I couldn't really. I was in shock. I buried myself in the organising that needed doing, each appointment made hurting more than the last. I wasn't supposed to by organising my big brother's funeral. No, that was never the way it was supposed to happen.
I slept as much as I could, which wasn't much. But, as long as I was asleep, it meant I didn't have to think or remember. If I remembered everything, I would go insane. That's why I kept quiet, memories don't surface if you shy away from them. Well, that was my theory at least. It worked for a little while, until the day of the funeral.
I hadn't told many people, there weren't many to tell. Pat's friends from university, a few of our childhood friends and his current ones. I had informed Flyzik that I would be at a funeral on saturday, I didn't say who's it was. It wasn't too big, not too many people turned up. Amongst those that did attend, though, was Pat's best friend, Sean. He was the one who found him, and I couldn't get over how strong he must have been to attend the burial and keep composure. I didn't. I couldn't keep composed. I didn't cry, but I broke down on the inside, as overused as it sounds.
When the day of the funeral arrived, I was running on no sleep. I hadn't slept the night before the saturday it was taking place, my mind refused to shut down. I remained in bed, though, until my alarm went off at half past ten. I turned off the shrill beeping, bearing no resentment to it for once. Sluggishly, I dragged myself to the hotel bathroom and stood under the streaming jet of water that the shower provided for as long as possible. My body was on autopilot as I washed my hair and combed it out again. My mind didn't wander, though. I didn't think of anything. I just stayed blank. I stepped out of the shower and wrapped one of the towels around my body, shuddering as I stepped in to the cold of the main bedroom section of the hotel I had been staying in for the past week. Soundlessly, I dressed myself in the outfit I had picked out last night. Amongst the last words Pat had left me with, were instructions to not feel uncomfortable in what I was wearing. I took that literally, and dressed in black jeans, a black blouse and black heeled shoes. I still wasn't comfortable, but it was as informal as I was willing to dress. Checking the watch on my wrist, I sped up slightly, rushing my simple makeup and straightening my hair. I swallowed down the last of the coffee I had made as I got out of the shower and left my room, taking nothing with me but my key card and my credit card in the pocket of my jeans. I didn't stop to eat.
It wasn't a cold day, but it was windy. My overly-hairsprayed hair whipped around my face as I slid into the taxi that waited for me outside the doors of the hotel. I would have preferred to walk, but this taxi had been booked for weeks, I was running behind, and I'd probably break my ankle on the walk there. The traffic was unnaturally quiet as we pulled into the church. Nobody else seemed to have arrived yet, which I was grateful for. I paid and silently thanked the driver who wished me a good day as I left his taxi. As I walked into the church, decorated with a few beautiful flower arrangements, I thought over the decisions I had made for the day. Pat and I had been brought up in a religious family, but it wasn't forced down our throats. While I personally didn't believe in the church, Pat did a little more. Recently, he had drifted but it still made sense to hold the funeral in a place that was once special to him. As for having the funeral in America, well, that was an easy decision. Pat hated England. As he grew older, he developed a passion for America. It's what his University course centered around, and it was only a matter of time before he moved out here. It only made sense to hold it in America.
I steadied myself and took a deep breath in as the vicar again expressed his sympathy, and then the attendees started trickling in and taking their places in the pews. There were only around 40 people there in the small church, and the only noise was a vague murmuring as people took their seats. I remained expressionless as I sat down in the front pew by myself. My hands were locked together on my knees and my back was straight against the back of the pew. The service started and I lost myself in it, losing the battle I had been fighting for the past week. I succumbed to reality as I was called to make my speech I had insisted on making. I'm not entirely sure why I insisted, but I did.
"As much as it's nice to see you, I only wish it wasn't in these circumstances." I spoke quietly through the small microphone attached to the alter, not looking up when I heard a door open and close, and then scuffling from the right side of me. My voice cracked due to the overwhelming emotions pent up inside my body. A body that was pale and drawn. I hadn't properly seen the sun for days, and my skin was so white, it sickeningly reminded me of the flooring of a hospital morgue. My sleep was fitful, the escape of my dreams were always infiltrated by the vision of him, turning them into nightmares. Still, it was better than being awake.
"I didn't plan out what I'm going to say today, but I'm hoping whatever I do manage to get out will serve his memory the slightest bit of justice. Because he can never properly be explained. He had thoughts and hopes and dreams that no-one can fully recount. He believed wholeheartedly that everyone around him should have their chance to live. That includes all of you, as even though he may not have expressed it, I know he loved you dearly, each and every one of you. I don't know what changed his perspective, but suddenly he was knocked out of kilter. Something happened that made him give up on himself, however, he never gave up on you. No, he still believed that everyone deserved their chance in life. Just not him." My voice gained volume, becoming clearer as it did so. I was there for a reason and I was going to be heard.
"It's been a week, but it's still the longest time of my life. The pain grows daily, and I miss him more than I would miss air if I were drowning. Drowning in this empty space he once occupied. The silence is monsterous and gaping, and it's hard to imagine that anything will ever bring the light back into this seemingly ininite darkness.
I know, however, that the sun, the moon and all of the stars will shine bright, for he is a part of them now. He has left us, but he isn't truly gone. He is where he wants to be. I'm never going to wholly grasp, but I hope he's finally found a place where he feels he belongs. He will be re-united with our parents as I speak, I have no doubt.
So if you ever feel like you miss him too much, like all hope has dissolved and left you broken, like you ever feel like joining him, stop. Because that's not what my brother would want. He would want you to carry on the fight he felt he wasn't strong enough to win. If you ever want to see him sooner, then look around you. Look at music, at photography, at artwork. He is everywhere. He is in you, and he is in me. Look inside yourself and you'll find him there. Don't give up this fight."
With that, I stepped from the altar, I sent a glance at the wooden box that housed my brother and raised my head high. With that final gesture, I strode from the church, purposefully ignoring the group of five men stood at the back of the church that had entered late. I ignored the four sympathetic stares and the one seemingly understanding stare coming from the brown haired man with his hands in his pockets, a little way from the rest. I certainly wasn't looking forward to facing them.