Hey guys, I know I haven't written a lot in quite some time. Sorry about that, and I will warn you now this story is sad. It'd dedicated to my Uncle Bill, he was like a grandpa to me and he died recently this month. This is a tribute to him, so thanks for reading if you do. Also I might make a follow up to this as well, just tell me if you'd like to see one made.
I watched as everyone talked about the memories they had shared with you. They had sad smiles on their faces as they stood on the podium facing the crowd. They came here just for you, you know. I didn't think you knew so many people but I knew that you had touched their hearts in some way. You were always like that and I suppose you touched me the most.
If I had known this would have happened I…I would have tried to stop it. I would have stopped you from going and gone myself. I blame myself you know. I blame myself for all the happened to you. If it weren't for me you would never have been is so many of the situations we've been through. I never would have had to face the fact that you were gone.
I still remember your face, I remember them pulling me away and telling me there was nothing I could do. Oh God how I wished you hadn't done that. I wish that you were here and I was there, in that box.
They told me you looked beautiful, but I didn't want to look. I wanted to remember you, as I knew you. Looking at you all dressed up in something that didn't suit you, it wouldn't be right. I wanted to remember you the way you used to be.
The way you used to be, that doesn't sound right; it never will. The way you are, it always made me feel better. Even thinking now, about all the little things, makes me wonder why I ever thought that I could protect you for so long. I would go back and change time if I had known that this would be the outcome.
I still remember your face, the way it looked all...thinking about it makes breathing hurt. It feels as if my heart is breaking apart slowly. Why didn't they let me help you? Why didn't they let me go to you? I ask myself that everyday.
A month, it took a month to prepare all this for you. It's been a month that I've lived in a world without your warmth and kindness. It's been a month since I last talked to anyone for any period of time. It's not the same without your here. Everyone misses you, including our favorite boss.
I find it hard to sleep at nights because I can still see you falling. I remember you screaming for help and I couldn't save you. I tried but I couldn't. When you hit the ground I heard the sound of your bones breaking, and the blood, all that blood. I ran, I wanted to join you, I would have jumped but I was stopped. They wouldn't let me go to you.
"You can't help her now." The words sounded broken and hollow. "It's too late." He was holding me, I didn't understand why. We hated each other so why was he holding me. "I know it's hard." I pushed him away but he wouldn't let go. You would have been proud we didn't fight for once.
I guess it's time to go, dad is pulling me up, I don't think I can stand on my own. My legs don't want to move, they're frozen in place because going means admitting that you're gone. He's guiding me to where you're going to be placed. I can't look at the coffin holding you; it hurts too much.
"She's not going to make it. She's probably already-" I don't want to remember but it seems my mind is disagreeing. Remembering means knowing that you are gone.
"Dearly beloved," the minister is saying the prayer, "we gather here today to morn-" I stop listening; I don't want here the words that will condemn you below the earth. My eyes are glued to the ground and I can hear a few crying. I know she is, Jenny found out and for the first time she hugged me. I could only hold her as she cried, I felt guilty as I held her. My tears wouldn't fall, they didn't want to believe you were gone.
"When will her funeral be?" Dad looked broken when asked and it hurt to know that I couldn't comfort him. I still can't look at him because I know part of this is my fault. They tell me it's not but I think it is. If I hadn't been standing there for you to...why did you have to...I can't breathe, my lungs wont take in air. Dad pulls me in and holds me but I can't seem get back any control.
"It's not your fault. She saved you because she loves you." I don't want to hear all the voices that are coming into my mind. I don't want to relieve the moment but I can hear it. I can still the moment you pushed me away as the cliff broke off. I still see as you fell, they said it was instant, that you didn't suffer.
"She saved you because she loves you."
I still here that, and the words echo; they never go away. So why does it hurt so much when I hear them? I just catch as you're lowered into the ground and I can feel them. My face is wet and I know the tears are still falling. They're falling because I couldn't save you. They're falling because I had to watch you die. They're falling because I didn't get to join you.
I know I'm being led away and I feel numb. I'm directed into the car but I don't feel anything. I looking out the window but I can't see anything because I know in a few days there will be a tomb stone with your name on.
Dad told me, his voice was quiet when he said it, what would be written on her tombstone. Diana 'Marie Lombard: Loved by many. A light of hope in the darkness.' I don't want know what else is on it, and I think dad knew that too. He tries to talk to me, but without you around it's not the same.
A month has passed since you've been gone. I haven't seen the tombstone yet. I'm sorry Diana, but I'm not ready. Dad has tried talking to me but it's strained. He's trying to get me to eat too; I'm just not as hungry these days. I'm back at school but your room has been cleared out. There is even a new student in it but most of us avoid that room. Marvin is back at the school, he checks up on me and fills dad in. I don't know why though, its just the same as when I was at home. He doesn't know what to say to me either.
I don't know what to do anymore. My grade average has gone up because I drown myself in homework. I eat when I can, or when I'm hungry but I'm not too hungry anymore. At least at home I ate more than I do now. I think I'm slowly killing myself, sort of a self-damnation thing. Jenny comes by a lot, she likes to talk about the good times with you but I can't seem to smile about the topic yet.
Maybe in a few years the pain will go away, but for now please stay by my side, for just a little longer.