When her world is falling apart, when her life is sent in turmoil, when reality hits her across the face so hard that she's surprised there's no visible wound, she closes her eyes like he thought her and tells herself she strong. She made it so far. She can go on.
And she open them again and she doesn't cry at the sight. She just stares as the headstone and wonder why is it that the people she learns to like, and maybe love, leave.
Why don't they have the courage to stay ? But Logan said it right… maybe it's because they have the courage to leave. Logan told her all that he loved and would miss. And just before he left her alone, he'd said it again, that it isn't her fault.
Still, she stares at the grave and knows that he would be proud that she isn't crying. She leans forward and traces the letters with the tips of her fingers, the words her and the others -the others that stay behind- chose and manage a smile. Like she would have smiled at him. That sweet smile she got only for him, and to which he always responded with a wink or a chuckle. Or both. Like last time. Just before he said 'I'll see you on Monday, Mackie.'
Then she walks away from the stone, the graveyard. Turns her back to the one person that had thought her that people that commit suicide don't desert you. They'll always be here. He'll be always here.
And as she climbs up in Logan's truck, a feather sways down its path to the ground before the fresh grave.
Richard Casablancas Junior.
1986 - 2009
Beloved friend, thoughtful man.
We were family.
She's going to wait for Monday for the rest of her life.
