6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
T he gravel wobbled beneath my crutches. I kept my head down, afraid that if I looked up, I’d lose all control of my emotions. The pit in my stomach was a mix of anger, sadness, devastation, and grief, making for a nice concoction of “ready to vomit at any moment.”
Following closely behind Mom and Dad, I did everything possible to keep from turning around and heading straight back to the car as Dad’s voice replayed over and over again. You’re doing this for Olivia. Remember that .
I paused, but only for a second before Mom reached for my hand and gave me a squeeze. “We’re right here,” she whispered.
One tiny tear trickled out of my eye and down my cheek. I swiped it away as we moved to the front of the crowd. I spotted John and Jess, their somber figures leaning into one another for support.
I would be strong for them; I had to be strong for them.
Grinding my teeth to force the tears down, I balanced myself before wrapping my arms around Jess. A surge of strength pulsed through me, but then she released a breath and her body began heaving up and down within my embrace. Within seconds, my body mimicked hers.
“I love you,” I breathed while trying to contain my sobs.
“I love you too.”
My parents and I took our seats on the three chairs directly next to Liv’s parents. My stomach sank as my eyes landed on the large black metal box that sat so prominently upon a raised platform directly in front of the ocean.
How could something so beautiful bear witness to something so fucking tragic?
The pastor started speaking as “Tears in Heaven” by Eric Clapton slowly faded. He spoke, but none of the words made sense. Everything was jumbled. I tried to focus while he went on about how beautiful Olivia was, how she lit up every room she entered, and how everyone who knew her loved her, and while everything he said was true, it didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like he really knew her.
“And now, the family has asked for anyone who has something special they’d like to share to please do so at this time.” The pastor’s voice was soft and docile.
I wasn’t sure at what point in time I decided that I was going to speak, but before I could talk myself out of it, I was staggering toward the microphone. I hadn’t realized the number of people who’d shown up, but the sea of black extended far beyond the beach, flooding the entire parking lot. People were standing, sitting on top of their cars, and even parked on the side streets.
The sight alone could have brought me to my knees.
Breathing in a gulp of air, I closed my eyes and let my voice free. “Hi. I’m Miller Morgan. Olivia Mitchell was my best friend.” I sucked in another deep breath, squeezing the stem of the hydrangeas that smooshed up against my palm and the crutches. “Liv was unlike any other person I’ve ever met. She was fierce and stubborn, but kind and loving too. She fought like hell for what she believed in, and she wasn’t afraid to admit when she was wrong. She was beautiful, intelligent, and one of the most genuine human beings I’ve ever known.” I paused and locked eyes with my mom.
The slightest nod of her head gave me what I needed to continue. “I still catch myself thanking the powers that be for somehow placing us on this earth at the same time, in the same place, and with the same undeniable love of trashy TV and gummy worms. Obviously forcing us to be best friends,” I said, a small laugh piercing the audience as tears blurred my vision.
There it was. A tiny sliver.
But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, the somber faces of so many staring back at me. The childhood friends, the teachers, the parents, ultimately the entire town.
“I’m not sure how any of our lives will ever be the same now that something so bright has been ripped from us, but what I do know is that even though she’s gone, her brightness will forever shine, through each and every one of us sitting here today.” I sighed, collecting myself. “Whether it’s the sparkly outfit that you swore you’d never wear or the party you said you wouldn’t go to, one way or another, something will spark a memory, and Liv will come floating back, even if only for a second. When that happens, I want you to grasp onto the memory and never let it go. Not for you, but for her. We all need to remember the person she was and the person she would’ve been so we can carry a little piece of her everywhere we go.”
I bowed my head as the tears became too forceful to fight, only finding the courage to continue when I imagined Dad’s voice reminding me again: … for Olivia .
I peered up and let the sound of the roaring waves behind me calm the roaring waves inside of me. “I’m not sure how to say goodbye to someone who has been with me for my whole life, but minute by minute, hour by hour, and day by day, I’ll figure it out. We all will. I know some days are going to simply seem unbearable, but on those days, I’ll look to the ocean. Liv always said she was jealous of the ocean because it had the ability to go anywhere and nowhere at the same time. So, I want you all to promise me that when you feel sad about losing Liv, you’ll look to the ocean, because just as she once envied, Liv now has the ability to go anywhere and nowhere at the same time, within our hearts. She’s here, she’s there, and she’s everywhere we need her to be. Never forget that, and never forget her.”
Chills rushed down my spine and over my entire body, making the tiny hairs on my neck spike. I smiled because at that moment, I knew she was here. I turned toward the water and whispered, “I love you deeper than the ocean.”
Bringing myself back to the crowd, I moved away from the microphone and made my way back to my seat. Shortly after I spoke, the funeral ended. Being so close to the Mitchells, the crowd treated us as though we were family too, coming up to offer their condolences.
At first, I thought I could handle it—I wanted to handle it—but it was too much.
Rain clouds rolled in and thunder boomed behind us, as did the heaviness in my chest. I gave one look to Mom and shook my head. I turned, crutching to the car as fast as I could, only for Dad to catch up to me in a few strides.
“Here, let me.” He moved toward the passenger side, wrapping me in a hug. His strong embrace cradled my fragile frame as I let my weight fall.
“You’re not driving with that leg of yours. I’ll run you home and be back before Mom even knows I’m gone.”
Dad pulled the car door open, and I responded with a nod because words felt impossible. I slipped into the front seat of the truck, my grip still tight on the dead hydrangeas I’d been holding since this morning.
The drive home was a blur. As our house came into view, I let out the deep breath that had been stuck in the pit of my stomach all morning. I barely made it inside and upstairs before I collapsed onto my bed, still in my black dress and single sneaker.