A few hours later, Billie Joe, Mike, Tre, Nikki and Spider-Man stood at the exact spot where I died. They were all dressed in black, and news cameras were all around them.
Tears consumed all of their eyes. They tried to hold in the hysteria, but the tears could not be hidden.
Billie Joe stood in front of them, swallowing and wiping his eyes with his sleeve.
He looked at all the cameras, unsure of what to say. He hadn't prepared anything. He was busying telling himself that what happened wasn't his fault, which it wasn't. It was all mine.
He tried to smile, but it sank as soon as it had risen.
"Jimmy was...ah...she..." He just couldn't find the right words. Nothing could explain or describe me, and he did what I would have wanted him to do.
He sang.
He stood with Tre and Mike, and swallowed hard.
"Saint Jimmy died today. He blew her brains out into the bay. In a state of mind, it's our own private suicides."
They learned to accept the fact that I wasn't around anymore, and that they only had memories remaining.
They kept crying that they wouldn't live without me. Truth is, life goes on.
And every time someone told Billie, Mike or Tre that I was happy and in a better place now, all they did was smile and sing,
"Jimmy says it's better than here."