Safer to Hate Her

Once he knew she had left Rupert walked down to his kitchen, he could feel his mother looking at him from the other side of the room.

“I’m sorry, Mum. I don’t mean to.” He looked at some letters on the table, and there was one addressed to him and it was hand written. He tore it open and he instantly knew who had sent it.

Dear Rupert,
If you’re reading this, then I’ve gone. I’d like to thank you for coming with us to London; you made the trip a lot more enjoyable.
I haven’t seen Jersey smile as much as she has and that’s because of you. You make her smile. Recently, you two have been growing apart, and I’d hate to think that it’s my fault.
Talk to her; let her know how you feel you’ll regret it otherwise.

She doesn’t know I’ve sent this to you, you both deserve to be happy and I knew you needed a kick up the backside. Actually, the both of you do.

No crying, you hear? Just go and see her, be with her. You’re the one who can help her through this day, I believe in you.

You know why? Because the way you look at her is the same way my husband did when he was your age. I know you are meant to be together, I can see it.

I’ll be there looking out for you. Make her happy, make me proud.

Love forever,

Carla.

PS. All she needs is you being there, you don’t have to say a word.

Rupert looked back up at his Mum with tears forming in his eyes, how could he have been so stupid?

“Well, go and get ready then, Son. We’re leaving soon.” He smiled at his Mum.

x-x-x

She looked so beautiful stood there, greeting everybody who came. Her smile was sometimes strained but he knew she was grateful for them being there. The next time she looked up their eyes met and suddenly hers sparkled.

She ran towards him with all the energy she had and hugged him, almost knocking each other over. Everybody smiled towards them as they took their seats in the room.

They’d already laid her mother to rest with her father, and they’d come back to say some prayers and talk about her mother. She needed him at the cemetery with her, but, him being here now was perfect. She was so happy he came.

“What made you come?”

“Your Mum kicked some sense into me.” He pulled the letter out of his pocket; she recognised her mother’s handwriting.

Shaking her head and smiling she threw her arms around him once more as they went to the front of the room and took their seats.

“I’m so nervous!”

Rupert took her hand and kissed her. “You’ll be fine; do you want me to come up with you?”

She shook her head, “I’ll like to do this on my own, but thank you,”

Jersey made her way to the front and faced everyone. Old friends, family members and the priest had kindly given their time so they could say their final goodbyes. She saw her grandmother smile at her as she began to speak.

“Thank you, everybody,” she stole a glance at Rupert and smiled, “for coming today.”
She looked down at her own letter she’d received from her Mum and began to speak again, “my Mum sent me a letter for today with a few things she’d like to say so I’m going to read that now: Tears are sometimes an inappropriate response to death. When a life has been lived completely honestly, completely successfully, or just completely, the correct response to death’s perfect punctuation mark is a smile. I hope that you all have a nice day, today. I don’t want any crying because I’m not really gone. I’m going to live on forever in your hearts.”

Jersey walked off to the side where she’d left her guitar and walked back to the front, “I’d like to sing a little bit of a song I heard on the radio now.”

She strummed her guitar as a tear fell from her eyes and landed on her smile,



Jersey stopped for a moment and closed her eyes; everybody in the room could feel her pain. When she opened them Rupert was stood in front of her with his own guitar. He was holding the letter he’d gotten from her mother, he turned it over and on the back it read: bring your guitar and play your music again.

They laughed together in their own world and began playing the music as she sung.