Warning: you may need a tissue.
Chapter 6
The day of Louise's funeral had finally arrived. Tina lay in bed, not wanting to get up. She looked over, and saw that Gene was awake, too, staring at the ceiling.
Feeling drained and her limbs heavy, Tina forced herself to get out of bed, but she felt that with every step she took, she felt more and more lost, and she stood in the middle of her room, not knowing what to do.
Gene was still in her bed, and Tina slowly walked over to him. Listlessly, she took his hand, and pulled him into a sitting position. It should have been hard; he was just as lethargic as she was, but she didn't even notice.
Tina could hear the low murmurs of her parents' voices as she pulled on her black catering dress, along with a black jacket and shoes, and pulled the tribute DVD out of her desk before making her way out of her room, putting it safely in the living-room. The food and drink was already laid out buffet style in front of the window in the living-room, on a few folding tables covered with white cloths. Zeke had brought it all over early that morning. There were trays of sandwiches, all covered with plastic wrap; BLTs, turkey, bacon and salad club sandwiches, simple ham and cheese ones; another plate of round crackers, neatly arranged, and the cheeses were in the fridge, along with the potato wedges, and the salads.
Zeke really had gone above and beyond, Tina thought, looking at the platters of artfully arranged snacks. When did he get so good at plating? He'd even brought over bottles of sauces and jars of dips, and there were at least twenty delicious looking home-made pizzas, all cut up into strips. She could see that the chocolate cake and the brownies were home-made, as well.
Unbeknownst to her, Mort had already dropped by, and had taken the CD to the church, so that it would be playing when they walked in. Everyone was coming; Louise's friends', her teachers, the neighbours, etc. At least, that's what she assumed.
The room was surrounded with photos of Louise; the larger ones tacked the to the walls, others in frames resting on any surface that would hold them, and they were spread all over the house.
Bob and Linda were in the kitchen, sat at the table, both of them looking sick.
Bob was wearing a black formal suit and tie, while Linda was in a simple short-sleeved black dress that fell a few inches below the knee, with black flats, and a black jacket. Tina wondered where they had got the clothes from.
"Tina. There you are," Bob said as she entered the kitchen. Before Tina could answer, there came a knock at the door, and she went to answer it. She opened it to see Big Bob, Gayle, Al, and Gloria standing on the doorstep, all dressed in black. They each pulled her into a tight hug, before going upstairs.
While the rest of her family gathered in the kitchen, Tina remained at the top of the stairs. This was it, she realised; today was the day they would have to say goodbye to Louise forever. Tina felt like crying. It was almost too much to bear; after today, none of them would ever see her again. But she couldn't cry; the tears just wouldn't come out.
After a while, Bob came out of the kitchen and approached Tina. She could see Louise's old pink beanie peeking out of his jacket pocket. "Tina?" he crouched down to her level. "Tina, I just wanted to thank you."
"For what?"
"For everything you've done; you've organised the.. funeral, got everything ready; if it weren't for you, nothing would have got done. I just wanna say how proud I am of you; you've been so strong, and I'm supposed to be the strong one; I'm the parent. I think you've been just great."
"Thanks, Dad," Tina whispered, and they embraced tightly. Gene slowly ambled up beside them, wearing a small black suit, with black shorts and black dress shoes, and Tina again wondered where he got it from.
"I guess it's time to go," came Gloria's voice, as the rest of the family came into the hallway.
But none of them left. They stood where they were; for what, they didn't know.
"Come on," said Big Bob sadly. "Or we'll really be late," and the family slowly walked out of the house. Outside was a sleek, black funeral limo, big enough to seat them all, which had pink ribbons decorating the front. Inside were plush leather seats, and a mahogany lining; it was an exquisite car, but Tina was focused on what was in front of the limo. A small, white, traditional Victorian closed carriage, with old-fashioned lanterns on either side, at the front, and a glass front, back and sides. The corners of the glass were etched with flowers, and the floral arrangements spelling Louise's name were arranged on the top of the carriage, behind the intricately carved finials.
Attached to the carriage were two beautiful white horses; Tina knew instantly that they were Dutch Gelderlanders, and the horses were decorated with pink drapes and plumes. The coachman, dressed all in black, a pink rose in his front pocket, was already sat at the front.
On any other occasion, she would have been thrilled to see a horse, seeing two horses. Two extremely beautiful horses at that. But she didn't care. She didn't care about seeing these horses, and she didn't care if she never saw a horse again in her life.
Turning away from them, she caught sight of three cars behind the limo. Three extra hearses, packed full of flowers of all different colours and types. For some reason, Tina couldn't stop looking at those cars; Mort had said there would be two, and there were three there. There were three hearses full of flowers, and Mort said there would only be two.
Tina became aware that her family had stopped shuffling about, and she turned back around, and froze. Mort, along with a few other men she didn't know, were carrying Louise's coffin, and she gasped. That casket, that tiny, pink casket with the gold corners and handles was carrying her sister. Stepping back, she could only stare helplessly, as the coffin, as Louise, was placed on the platform inside the carriage. More of the funeral flowers spelling out her name were placed either side of the coffin.
She gazed at it, for seemingly ages, until she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she allowed herself to be guided to the limo.
The slow, silent drive to the church seemed to take a lifetime. The family sat in the back of the car, while another man Tina didn't know drove slowly behind the carriage. She alternated between looking at the carriage, and looking out of the window.
She soon became aware of people in the streets, which was normal, but there were so many people, and they were all lining up along the street, watching them. Tina could see people holding flowers, teddies, candles; she could see people crying, and wiping their eyes.
"Who are they?" she asked, nodding at the crowd.
"They're mourners," Big Bob told her, and the rest of the family began to look out of the windows, as well.
"Why?"
"These are all the people who were watching the news," he said. "They wanted to show support."
"Oh." Tina looked away from the throngs of saddened mourners, and looked back at the carriage in front of her. She did not look back at the three hearses full of flowers.
Finally, they reached the church; on the notice board outside, the words "Louise Belcher funeral service" were written. Reverend Brooks was standing at the entrance to the church.
As they got out of their cars, the other guests were arriving; there was Principal Spoors, Mr Frond, Miss LaBonz, and Mr Ambrose, along with all of the other Wagstaff teachers, all of them dressed in black formal wear.
Zeke was there, wearing a slightly worn suit that looked a little bit too big for him, along with his dad and stepmum, his stepbrother, his cousin Leslie, and even his grandma.
Regular-sized Rudy was there, with both of his parents, and everyone in Louise's class had shown up, plus their parents. Millie was wearing a full length black dress with a veil over her face, and she was crying.
It seemed like everyone in Seymour's Bay and Bog Harbour had shown up; Tina had never seen so many people in one place. Edith and Harold, Teddy, Jimmy Pesto, Trev, the twins, and Jimmy Jr.; Gretchen, Mickey, even the Fischoeder brothers.
Nat the limo driver was there, wearing a black suit, and it was the first time Tina had seen her wear anything but pink, barring her pink bow tie, and a little pink rabbit shaped badge on her lapel. The One-Eyed Snakes were there, bar Sidecar, who was naturally too young to sit quietly through a funeral service. The biker gang were dressed in their neatest black outfits; the ones with the least rips, tears, and bloodstains.
She even spotted Koji and Yuki; Koji had his arm around his daughter's shoulders as they walked slowly up to the church, the both of them looking solemn. Bob didn't see them, and even if he had, he couldn't find the energy to care.
To her dismay, she could see several reporters with cameras and shotgun microphones, filming both them, and the mourning crowd. They were quiet, much quieter than they ever had been during the rescue attempt, and she sincerely hoped that they wouldn't come inside the church.
Tina avoided eye contact with everyone as she walked towards the entrance to the church with her family. When they approached, Reverend Brooks, stood aside, and led them inside.
The aisle was lined with flowers, along with the Kuchi Kopi and heart balloons, alternating with every pew. Music by Boyz 4 Now was playing quietly. Up on the altar was Louise's coffin, the lid open, a large bunch of red roses now placed on the top. Tina's breath caught in her throat when she saw it and she grabbed her dad's hand as they filed into the front row and sat down. On each side of the altar were two large photos of a smiling Louise, resting on easels.
She looked around, as everyone took their seats. There were so many people that there weren't enough seats, and many of them had to stand. Tina found that she recognised many of the people who had worked so hard to save Louise; the two policemen who had laid beside the well; that police lady who had kept talking to her parents. She saw the two paramedics that had arrived that Friday evening; the police and fire Chiefs were there, too, along with a lot of men she vaguely recognised as the diggers.
It was then that she realised that these people hadn't been just doing their jobs; they were here because they cared, and they were genuinely upset that Louise hadn't survived.
She looked along the bench; her father and mother were seated next to the aisle, she was next to Linda, and Gene was next to her. Then came Gayle, Al, Gloria, Big Bob, and Teddy. Their schoolfriends and neighbours took up the pews behind them, while the rescuers sat in the pews on the left hand side.
The people standing appeared to be more mourners, as Tina didn't recognise them. Just before she turned around, she saw four latecomers, dressed neatly in black, their heads down and hoods up, enter the church, and stand at the back.
When everyone was seated and ready, the music stopped, Brooks stood behind the pulpit and began the service.
"Today's service is a small milestone in our shared journey of grief and sorrow. It is our hope that in this service we might perhaps draw a line under one phase of our grieving and begin to look forward.
"We meet in the name of Jesus Christ, who died and was raised to the glory of God the Father.
Grace and mercy be with you," he began, looking out among the mourners.
"And also with you," answered the congregation.
"We have come together to remember the short life on Earth of Louise Belcher, to share our grief, and to commend her to the eternal care of God. We meet in the faith that death is not the end, and may be faced without fear, bitterness or guilt. God of all mercies, You make nothing in vain and love all that You have made. Comfort us in our grief, and console us by the knowledge of Your unfailing love, through Jesus Christ our Lord."
"Amen," muttered the church-goers, their heads bowed. Tina wasn't too sure what he was saying; the Belchers were not church-going people, but she bowed her head respectfully, and kept quiet.
"Our eyes, Lord, are wasted with grief; You know we are weary with groaning. As we remember our death in the dark emptiness of the night, have mercy on us and heal us; forgive us and take away our fear through the dying and rising of Jesus Your Son. Amen."
"Amen."
Reverend Brooks looked over at the Belcher family.
"Her death is not in vain," the priest continued, speaking more personally now. "Somehow, Louise Belcher has touched the whole world. The death of an innocent little child is causing us to do something to make life better. Comfort us, Lord, with the knowledge that the child for whom we grieve is entrusted now to Your loving care. Take her into Your arms and welcome her into paradise where there will be no more sorrow, nor weeping, nor pain.
"Over the past two weeks, we have witnessed the most extraordinary sights. We have seen many strangers flocking to our small town, in the hope that they might have been able to do something to help a child. We have seen thousands upon thousands of flowers, cards and soft toys being laid in memory of Louise. We have seen strangers and friends weeping together in shared grief and anguish. We have seen our town brought together and united in a common grief. And we have seen the extraordinary bravery, courage and dignity of the family. All of this is a direct result of the way that Louise has touched the hearts and lives of so many people.
"It is surely fitting that we are gathered here to pay tribute to her and to rejoice with her as she now rejoices with us." Brooks paused, looking out over the congregation, before speaking once again. "I hope it is of some comfort to Bob, Linda, and the entire Belcher family to know that they have the love and support not only of everyone at St. Peter's, but also the whole of Seymour's Bay, Bog Harbour, and much, much further afield.
"I have been personally touched by the astonishing number of tributes that have poured in through condolence books and websites, and I am sure that Louise's family will find strength from the tidal wave of emotion that is coming in from all over the world. Everyone I have spoken to has been touched by the messages of support and grief that we have received. Seymour's Bay is a very tight-knit community, and everyone feels an enormous sense of loss."
"Louise Belcher touched so many lives. Maybe people have had enough of the bullying and mistreatment of children. Maybe her death signals the start of something different, something better for our children. Would not the best and most lasting memorial to this sweet child be a change for the better in how we behave to each other?"
He caught Bob's eye and gave him a look. He'd already agreed to do the eulogy, but he had been struggling. He found it difficult to sum up Louise's life; after all, he didn't know her. Before he could say anything, Bob had stood and had made his way to the altar and Brooks respectfully stepped back.
"I wasn't too sure if I was able to do this," the man began tentatively, "but now I realise I owe it to my daughter." He looked over at Tina, who was staring at him, as was Gene. Linda was crying, and the rest of his family were sniffling. He had been mentally fighting with himself over the eulogy; he never thought that he would be able to give it, but when Bob saw Brooks standing up there, he knew what he had to do. "I - " he paused; he didn't even know where to begin. "I don't know what to say; Louise was... she was my daughter. She was – she was a spark plug. Everyone always says you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone. Well, I never realised just how true that was. Louise really enjoyed life, and lived for the moment. If there was fun to be had, she'd be there. If there was mischief to be caused, she'd be there, and whenever there was a stray animal to be loved, she'd be there.
"I – don't know how I'm supposed to sum up her life; there's not enough time in the world. Yes, Louise was crazy, a prankster, but that's only a small part of who she was; she loved animals, she just loved them. No matter what, she would never leave a stray alone on the streets. If it were up to her, the house would have been a zoo."
The mourners chuckled lightly in appreciation, and Bob continued. "She always stood up for what she believed in, and she couldn't bear to see her family unhappy. She would do anything to put a smile on our faces. That was Louise, you know? She liked to make people laugh.
"Louise accomplished so much in her life; I can't even mention it; there's not enough time in the world, but she did so many great things that she was so proud of. She – she was an amazing little girl. But was still just an ordinary kid; she liked reading mangas, and watching cartoons; she hid her vegetables around the house, she teased her brother and sister, she preferred to play outside instead of going to school. She truly lived for the moment, never worrying about tomorrow.
"She truly cared about the people she loved; not just her family, but her friends, too. She would go out of her way to help them, even her teachers.
"Louise did so much for this town; probably more than any of you will ever realise; she brought happiness, as well as mischief, and sometimes danger. But that was Louise; always impulsive. You may not realise it, but Louise impacted each and every one of your lives. For better or for worse, every single person in this town has been affected by her; either by being on the receiving end of one of her pranks, or being helped by her. You all knew who she was.
"The world's a darker place without her. We'll never see her run down the street, or playing in the playground. We'll never hear her laughter, or her shouting again, or playing with her brother and sister, or even just sitting down with the family." Bob was going to have to stop before his tears overwhelmed him. "Please, everyone, remember Louise Belcher. Don't let the memory of her fade away." Tears falling down his face, he turned to the coffin and kissed Louise's forehead. "I love you so much," he choked, before making his way back to his seat. Everyone in the church was crying, bar Tina, who still couldn't do it.
One by one, they all rose and made they way to the altar. Tina kissed Louise on the cheek and whispered her goodbyes, Gene said nothing, but also kissed her on the cheek, crying silently. Linda, helped along by Gayle and Gloria, approached the coffin. She shook her head slightly, and bent down, kissing Louise's forehead, her cheeks, clutching onto her baby's hand.
"Goodbye, my sweetie, my baby," she whispered, before stepping aside. "I love you, my angel."
Gloria, Al, Gayle, and Big Bob said their goodbyes, giving Louise a final kiss, stroking her face, taking her hand, before they, too, moved aside, and allowed the other mourners to approach the coffin.
As there were so many people, it took quite a while, and Tina and Gene eventually sat back down, waiting for the seemingly never-ending line to finish. She couldn't look when Louise's friends approached the casket, instead focusing on her knees.
Rudy had forgone his parents' offers to go up there with him; he needed to go alone. As he approached, and saw her lying there, he gasped, his eyes filling with tears. He looked down at her still, peaceful face, at the pretty white dress she was wearing, at the bunny ears that would now never leave her head. He saw her Kuchi Kopi night light in the crook of her elbow, and the pretty white blanket edged with pink and green that mostly covered her, leaving her folded, makeup-covered hands free. He could just about see a corner of a photograph peeking out from underneath her hands.
"I'm sorry, Louise," he whispered. "I'm sorry this happened to you. I'm gonna miss you, so much. Bye." He tentatively reached out and stroked the lock of hair on her head, and then, before he could change his mind, bent down and kissed her forehead. He quickly went back to his seat, blowing his nose.
Zeke came up, along with his family, pushing his grandma's wheelchair, helping her climb the stairs; Andy and Ollie were both clutching their father's hand, who looked a bit uneasy as they bade Louise goodbye. Jimmy Jr. stood a few feet away, not wanting to get any closer. He tried to make eye contact with Tina as he left, but she looked away.
Koji and Yuki approached together, and whispered a Japanese prayer.
The many volunteers who had dug tirelessly, the policemen, the firemen, the paramedics, all came up to the coffin, all paying their last respects. Tina saw each and every one of them crying, and she felt even more guilty; these people didn't even know Louise, and yet they were crying, but she couldn't. What was wrong with her? Didn't she care enough to cry? She absolutely did, and she wanted to, so bad, but her eyes remained dry.
After a visibly distraught Tim and Charlie left the altar, the four latecomers came up at the same time, their hoods up, which they then lowered. A shock of dark hair and tanned skin; reddish-brown hair and fair skin; a wisp of a moustache and thick brown hair, and – Tina straightened up as the last one removed his hood – soft, fluffy blonde hair, with fair skin. It was Boyz 4 Now. She couldn't believe it. They were silently standing in from of the coffin; if they spoke, she couldn't hear them. Tina looked at the casket, fully expecting Louise to sit bolt upright and slap Boo Boo's face. Tina leaned forward slightly; Louise would sit up, she had to. Boo Boo was right there, he was within touching distance; all Louise had to do was open her eyes, and then everything would be fine. She would slap Boo Boo's face, and jump out of the coffin, and they would all cry, and then laugh about what a terrible mistake had been made.
But instead, the boy band quietly made their back down the aisle, doing their best to remain inconspicuous, and Louise remained in the casket.
Once everyone in the church had seen Louise, they returned to their seats, the music started up, the lid to the coffin was closed and Brooks gestured to Bob, Big Bob, and Al. They each grabbed a handle and gently picked the coffin up. As there was only three of them, it was a little bit lopsided, until Teddy approached and took the last handle. Bob did not attempt to stop the tears from falling, and he brought his shaking hand up to his mouth. This wasn't supposed to be happening; he wasn't supposed to be carrying his baby's coffin. Sniffles from around him told him the other pallbearers were crying, too.
Slowly, they made their way down the aisle, following Reverend Brooks, the rest of the Belcher family behind him. As Linda, Tina, Gene, Gayle, and Gloria walked up the aisle, people took their hands and muttered words of comfort.
"She was an amazing little girl."
"I don't know what to say."
"It's just terrible. There are no words."
The Belcher family graciously accepted the words as best they could and moved forward. Tina kept her eyes focused straight ahead, on the coffin that her father was helping to carry.
Once outside, the coffin was placed back in the carriage and some of the flowers that adorned the pews were placed alongside the casket.
The mourners climbed into their respective cars and began to follow the carriage, and the hearses to the cemetery. The ride there was even more silent, if such a thing were possible, and felt to Tina rather strained. The other mourners were still lining the streets, and she again focused on her knees.
When they had arrived at the cemetery, the four men removed the coffin from the carriage, and carried it over to the graveside, Bob crying and looking as though his heart was heavier than the Earth itself.
There were no chairs, for it was to be a short service, and Tina could see a large speaker a few feet behind the grave, and another wave of guilt washed over her; if they'd had a normal, up-to-date phone, then they could play the song. But all they had was an old phone that was probably around before the dinosaurs were, and so Tina couldn't play the final song. She didn't know why this upset her so; Mort was only too happy to help, and the song would still be played, so what did it matter?
Reverend Brooks stood at the head of the grave, next to the gravestone that had already been placed in the ground. It was made of polished pink marble, with pink marble bunny ears on the top, and had the words:
'Louise Gloria Belcher
Beloved sister and daughter
23rd November 2009 - 27th February 2019
Your presence we miss
Your memory we treasure
Loving you always
Forgetting you never
A little girl who brought the world together.' engraved neatly on it in black.
They stood around the open grave, the hole in the ground that was waiting to encase Louise forever. The Belchers were at the front, while everyone else stood behind, waiting silently.
Again, the priest waited for everyone to arrive, and when they were all ready and waiting, he spoke.
"We have gathered here to praise God and to witness to our faith as we celebrate the life of Louise Belcher. We come together in grief, acknowledging our human loss. May God grant us grace, that in pain we may find comfort, in sorrow hope, in death resurrection. Let us commend Louise to the mercy of God, our maker and redeemer. Silence is kept God our creator and redeemer; by Your power Christ conquered death and entered into glory. Confident of His victory and claiming His promises, we entrust Louise to Your mercy in the name of Jesus our Lord, who died and is alive and reigns with You, now and for ever. Amen."
"Amen."
"It is here, together, where we may intuit the meaning of Paul's words when he affirms that neither life nor death can separate us from the love of God. So, I welcome you to this time out of ordinary time. I invite you to pause, to let it settle in that a precious life has passed from among us. We can use the gift of our worship and our memories to bring comfort and peace and joy and laughter to one another as we remember Louise and, perhaps, we will enjoy a "trace" of her presence as we share together.
"We now commit her body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in the sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life," said Reverend Brooks. More crying commenced as the song "Gone Too Soon" began to play and the coffin was lowered into the ground.
Tina took her mother and brother's hands, devastated, as she watched it happen, with Michael Jackson's heartbreaking vocals playing in the background; only now did she truly appreciate just how appropriate the lyrics were:
"Like a comet
Blazing 'cross the evening sky
Gone too soon
Like a rainbow
Fading in the twinkling of an eye
Gone too soon
Shiny and sparkly
And splendidly bright
Here one day
Gone one night
Like the loss of sunlight
On a cloudy afternoon
Gone too soon."
The dirt was piled on top of the casket and the flowers in the shape of Louise's name was placed at the bottom of the headstone.
Bob was being supported by his father, both of them sobbing, and Al and Gloria were holding one another tightly. Gayle was clutching her locket in an iron grip, her eyes wide. Although everyone around her was crying, Tina was still dry-eyed, and she was overcome with self-hatred. What was wrong with her? Why couldn't cry? She didn't want Louise to think that she didn't care about her. She couldn't be the only person not crying, she just couldn't. You were supposed to cry at funerals, because then it meant that you cared. She cared; she cared so much. She loved Louise so much, so why couldn't she shed just one little tear?
"Like a castle
Built upon a sandy beach
Gone too soon
Like a perfect flower
That is just beyond your reach
Gone too soon
Born to amuse, to inspire, to delight
Here one day
Gone one night
Like a sunset
Dying with the rising of the moon
Gone too soon
Gone too soon."
Tina held her breath, and dug her nails into her palms as hard as she could. Soon enough, a tear finally rolled down her cheek, but that was all she could manage. Forcing the tears was perhaps not the best option, or maybe not even the right one, but it was the only thing she could think to do.
While the song continued, the bouquets, wreaths, and other floral tributes were removed from the hearses, and placed on top of the grave. There were so many that they covered the entire grave; not a single patch of dirt could be seen. The tributes were overlaid, and spread out to the sides, a mass of roses, lilies, daisies, chrysanthemums, violets, gladiolus, hydrangeas, orchids, daffodils, carnations, among many others. It was impossible not to feel touched by this overwhelming display of love and support.
The sobbing mourners remained at the grave site even after the song had finished.
"Support us, O Lord, all the day long of this troublous life, until the shadows lengthen and the evening comes, the busy world is hushed, the fever of life is over and our work is done. Then, Lord, in Your mercy grant us a safe lodging, a holy rest, and peace at the last; through Christ our Lord. Amen."
"Amen," muttered the crowd, and then they slowly began to make their way back to their cars to go to the Belcher home for the reception. Only the Belcher family remained standing there. They were never going to see Louise again. She was going to remain in the ground until the end of time, and none of them wanted to leave her there. Reverend Brooks approached them and eventually managed to get them to the hearse.
As they drove away, Tina turned around in her seat and stared at Louise's grave. Louise's grave, she thought, that's what she would have to say from now on. No longer would they be going to see Louise, they would be going to Louise's grave.
The people in the hearse were all silent as they drove back to the house and Gene suddenly started bawling.
"Gene?" Bob looked at his son worriedly. Gene didn't answer and Linda moved over and wrapped her arms around him, and Gene sobbed and sobbed until he was red in the face,.
Bob didn't know what to say or do to make him feel better, because he felt like doing the same thing, as did everybody else in the car. All he could do was watch, feeling lost.
They were all still silent as they arrived at Ocean Avenue. Gene had calmed somewhat, and Linda was still holding him.
"Do you need to go to bed?" she asked him, but he didn't answer her, and continued leaning into her chest.
"Gene, do you wanna go to bed?" Tina asked quietly, and Gene shook his head after a moment.
The other attendees who had arrived before them were waiting respectfully outside of the apartment, and Bob led the quiet group inside and upstairs.
There were a few moments of silence while Teddy tried to get the music playing, but when it started, people began talking, as though they were programmed with the music.
Tina stood back, with Gene pressed to her side, and watched as the mourners began to eat and drink and talk; the people filled up the living room, the hallway, and the kitchen. Some of the flowers and the rest of the balloons from the church had been brought back and they were strategically placed around the house, giving a little bit of colour to the sombre event.
Every so often, someone would approach her and tell her how sorry they were, but Tina didn't hear them; her mind was back at the cemetery with her sister.
The adults were milling around, paper plates and glasses in hand, all of them talking quietly. Many of them would stop to look at one of the several photographs of Louise, their eyes full of sadness. The kids looked as if they didn't know what to do; Andy and Ollie were standing together, holding hands, and hovering uncomfortably near Jimmy Jr., who was standing by Zeke. They were all near the buffet tables, with the elder boys holding plates as if to give their hands something to do.
Regular-sized Rudy was standing by himself, not too far from the other kids. Tina could see the rest of the kids scattered about, but she didn't want to talk to them. Besides, there was barely any room to move, the apartment was so full of people. Nat approached her, manoeuvring her way through the tight space. She said nothing, and only hugged her, which was so full of warmth and emotion that Tina had to hug back.
"You guys need me for anything, you just call, okay?" Nat bent down, her eyes glistening, and Tina nodded. "I mean it; anything." Nat hugged her again, before standing and wiping her eyes.
Tina could see the rest of her family dotted about the living-room, all except for her mother and Tina wondered where she was.
Bob was apparently thinking the same thing and he quietly slipped out of the room. He found Linda in the kitchen, surrounded by people, so he left her there and walked back down the hall.
Just as Bob squeezed back into the living-room, he heard Big Bob raise his voice slightly and he paused.
"I'd like everyone to raise their glasses," and he raised his, "in memory of Louise Belcher, a little girl who.. should still be here with us right now. Perhaps everyone would say something about her?" he coaxed when everyone had toasted Louise.
"I remember how she was a bit of a girly girl at heart," said Gretchen, reminiscing about Louise and her mission to rescue her Francine doll.
"I remember she was always so full of energy."
"You never knew what she had hidden up her sleeve."
"She loved to make people laugh."
Bob stood near the doorway, listening to all the little stories about Louise. It was so sweet of everyone to share their memories, but he honestly didn't want to hear them. He just wanted to leave and walk and walk and walk until he was so tired he couldn't think.
Much as he tried to tune everyone out, he couldn't, and so he had to listen to everyone saying how wonderful and sweet Louise was.
'What's wrong with me?' he thought. 'Why don't I want to hear this?' It was a question which he couldn't answer, and so all he could do was stand where he was, looking straight ahead, refusing to meet anyone's gaze.
"Bob?" A voice broke into his thoughts, and Bob gave a slight shake, and looked over to see Koji and Yuki. Koji pulled him into a tight hug, which Bob didn't return. "Bob, we are so, so sorry," said Koji sincerely, and Yuki nodded.
"She was such a good hearted little girl." Yuki hugged him as well. "No matter what, she always did the right thing, and I loved that about her."
"Thanks," said Bob dazedly. Of course his precious baby was good hearted; of course she always did the right thing, she was Louise! Louise could do no wrong, that much he knew for sure.
Tina made her way toward the television and placed the disc into the DVD player. When people saw what she was doing, they gathered around the television. When the video started playing, the guests from the other room came in and started to watch.
The film was about ten minutes long; Tina hadn't realised that it was that long, and contained many clips of Louise and the Belcher family; birthdays, Christmases, Easter egg hunts, school performances, and outdoor bonfires. A touching clip was of two-year-old Louise sat on the sofa in between Gene and Tina; Tina was reading them a bedtime story, but she was having trouble pronouncing some of the words.
'Hush, sweet butterflies, not 'nother peep, it's time to find a place where you can go to sleep,' Tina read from the book that was propped open in her lap, while baby Louise grew bored and crawled over both her siblings, and the book.
The next clip was Louise's kindergarten Christmas pageant when she was five. She was playing a sheep, but as the children stumbled through their lines, Louise would giggle at them and she would constantly wave at her parents.
The next clip was of Louise, Gene, and Tina hunting for Easter eggs in the apartment, filmed about four or five years ago. This was before their parents decided to go crazy with their egg hunt competition. The three kids were clutching baskets and Louise was climbing down from the windowsill in the living-room, holding an egg triumphantly. She jumped to the floor and ran over to Tina, who was double-checking the corners of the room for missed eggs. Running up behind her sister, Louise sneakily took an egg from her basket and placed it in her own, putting it back when Linda, who was filming, reprimanded her, and Tina turned around and looked confused.
Next in the video was Louise, Gene, and Tina standing in front of a scenic overlook at Bog Harbour National Forest. They had gone there for a picnic (again, Tina couldn't remember how they had persuaded Bob to leave the restaurant), and Linda had thought that the view was so beautiful that she just had to film it and had coaxed her children into standing in front of the rock wall and the kids didn't look too impressed. Sometimes, like Louise, Tina could get a little bit irritated by the way her mother constantly pulled out her video camera and telling them where to stand while she filmed. The Louise on the screen had a slightly irritated look on her face, before she smiled indulgently, as did the Tina and Gene on the video.
She had once asked Linda why she did it and her mother had said that someday Tina would thank her for the memories she had created. She was right, Tina thought, drawing her knees up to her chest.
The next scene showed Bob and Linda standing with their children, resting on the boulders, and upon Linda's command, all of them smiled and waved at the camera.
Everyone in the room was silent as the video played and the tears soon began flowing again. Bob was sobbing; he was eternally grateful to Linda for capturing these memories on video, and eternally grateful to Tina for making the video. Bob looked at his eldest daughter – now his only daughter – who was sat cross-legged on the floor next to the sofa with Gene; she had done so much to make this happen. If it for her, Bob didn't think that they would have had a funeral or reception to attend. He had already decided to do something nice for all she had done, he just wasn't sure what, but he knew that it had to be a really big treat.
The video had ended with a clip of the kids at the beach that summer. Bob was lying on his back, dozing, and the three of them had just finished covering his body with sand, piling it up so that Bob's stomach resembled a small mountain. The kids laughed triumphantly and turned to look at the camera and that's where the video ended.
Applause sounded through the room as the video was praised. As the guests moved away from the television, where the video was now playing on a loop, Rudy approached Tina.
"Th-that was a nice video," he said quietly.
"Thank you," she replied just as quietly and she could see the tears pooling in the boy's eyes, but he walked away before she could say anything. She caught Jimmy Jr. looking at her, and again turned her gaze away. She didn't have the strength to deal with him right now.
The guests milled around for hours, even after all the food was gone, talking about Louise, looking at all of the photographs. Bob and Linda sat in front of the television, staring at the video, not taking their eyes off of it. Big Bob and Teddy flanked them, but the parents didn't acknowledge either of the men. Bob and Linda just sat there, looking at the television as if trying to bore a hole through it with just their sight.
Teddy and Mort stayed when all the guests had left a few hours later, cleaning up the house, putting away the tables and tablecloths, and Teddy made sure that his favourite family was going to be okay before leaving, regretfully, for his own home.
Now that everyone had gone, the music had stopped, the DVD was no longer playing, the Belchers just sat in silence, wondering what on Earth they were going to do now. An air of finality hung over them.
Gene sat on the floor, holding a framed photo of Louise, and Tina sat next to him, staring straight ahead at the bookcase.
A few hours later, Bob looked around him, at Gayle curled up on the sofa, and his father on the floor. He knew Linda's parents were in Gene's room, and he knew that Gene and Tina were asleep. He also knew that Linda had taken the remaining wine into their bedroom, and had drank until she fell asleep. The house was so quiet. Bob could no longer fight the urge and slipped out of the apartment.
Bob climbed into his car and drove and drove until he pulled up outside a red building with a blue marquee.
When he entered the Lucky Lizard, he found it full of people at least a decade younger than him, dancing to thumping pop music. The booths were full, the lights were dim, and that awful carpet was still there. Nonetheless, Bob walked over to the bar, and took a seat.
"Hey, Chief" greeted the bartender, and Bob was certain it was the same man who had served him and Linda the last time they came. Back when Louise was still alive. "What can I get ya?"
"Gimme a beer; I don't care what kind, just gimme alcohol," said Bob, and the bartender obliged. He recognised Bob immediately; you see a man on TV every day for over a week, and their face was bound to stick in your mind. He noted that Bob still had his funeral clothes on, and the barman was a veteran, good at his job, and he knew from experience that Bob did not want conversation. So, he simply cracked open a bottle of Blue Moon and slid the glass across the counter.
Bob needed to get good and drunk; he had tried so hard to be strong for his family, but actually seeing his daughter get buried just made it all the more clear that he wasn't strong enough to handle the pain. As soon as Bob took his first gulp, he felt the pain and bad memories washing away like the tide; with each swallow, he forgot more and more of why he was there in the first place.
When he had finished, Bob downed his second beer in two quick gulps and he did the same to his next one, and his next one, and his next one...
Soon enough, he felt absolutely nothing, which was good, because that meant that he didn't have to deal with Louise's death. All he wanted more than anything was to make the pain go away, and the only thing that helped was beer, and lots of it.
A few hours later, Bob was very drunk indeed, but still he kept on drinking and drinking until the barman finally denied his request.
"Uh, sorry, Chief, I can't let ya have no more. We're closed," he said. Luckily, Bob had never been an angry drunk, so he instead sloped dejectedly out of the door and over to his car. When he had finally decided which of the three locks was real, he correctly inserted his key after too many tries and drove home.
He knew it was a stupid and dangerous thing to do, but he just didn't care. Besides, he didn't hit anyone or anything, so it didn't matter in the end.
The darkened house was silent, and Bob took that to mean that everyone was still asleep. After figuring out which flight of stairs he was meant to climb, Bob staggered into the living-room and passed out on the chair.
The next morning, Bob woke up with a massive hangover, feeling as terrible as he looked. However, the pain in his head was nothing compared to the pain in his heart.
Looking around, the only evidence that a funeral reception had taken place the night before was the masses of flowers, balloons and photographs that were scattered around the house.
Despite his hangover, Bob still could feel the intense pain that his daughter's death had left, and he desperately wanted another drink.
Bob stumbled into the kitchen, clutching his head, and opened the fridge. To his disappointment, there was no wine anywhere in sight, and Bob didn't feel like going out and facing the world, so all he could do was wait. Bob turned and slumped against the fridge, before remembering that Linda always kept extra wine in the cupboard. Uncorking a bottle, he began to drink. At first, that familiar sensation of forgetting washed over him, but then he was struck by a thought. Louise was all alone. She was alone, in a coffin, in the ground. Clutching his stomach, Bob fell to his knees, and vomited, causing his father, Linda, and Tina to come in.
"Bob? Are you okay?" Big Bob knelt down, while a clearly hungover Linda stood in the doorway briefly, before her own weak stomach caused her to dash to the bathroom.
"Nothing, just – just went down the wrong way," Bob choked, wiping his hand, and staggering to his feet. Forget the drink, he needed to go and see Louise.
"Whoa, where are you going?" Big Bob, holding out his arm as Bob made his way toward the door, ignoring the faint sounds of his wife throwing up.
"I can't stay here any longer; I need to go and see Louise."
"No, no; you're hungover, so just sit for a while."
"No!" Bob yelled, instantly grabbing his head. "No," he repeated, quieter this time. "Louise, my baby, she's all alone, and I need to go and see her."
"Louise is fine," said Big Bob, guiding his son to the table. "You can go and see her later, I promise, but not until you're sober, okay?"
"... Fine," Bob pouted, swaying slightly on his chair.
Linda came back into the room not long after, and the four of them were silent, not knowing what to say.
"Listen, you're all out of milk; I'm just gonna go and get some," said Big Bob, pulling on his coat. Tina only nodded, and sat down at the table. After a few moments, Linda joined them, along with Gene, who was still holding the photograph of Louise he had taken to bed with him last night.
They sat there silently, for what seemed like an eternity, until Big Bob returned, clutching a bag filled with bread, eggs, milk, cheese, toilet rolls, and bin liners. Tucked under his arm was a newspaper. "I thought you'd want to see this," he said, handing the paper to Bob. On the front page of the Oceanside Times was a photo of Bob, Big Bob, Al, and Teddy carrying Louise's coffin out of the church, with the headline, 'Rest in peace, Louise'.
'Ten days after her tragic death, Louise Belcher was laid to rest after a funeral service in St. Peter's Cathedral.
Looking exhausted and drawn, the Belcher family arrived at the church behind the horse-drawn Victorian carriage that held the body of their youngest child.
Her parents, Bob and Linda, rode in a black limo with tinted windows, along with Bob's father, Linda's sister, and their parents. Brother Gene, 11, and sister Tina, 13, were also present.
Hundreds of silent, weeping people lined streets in the cold March weather on Saturday to watch the tiny pink coffin pass, and mourn the child whose death saddened New Jersey. Policemen stood by and doffed their hats as the carriage went by, and some couldn't help shedding a tear.
The carriage was drawn through the streets of the town by two white horses with pink feather plumes, and three hearses full of floral tributes from around the country brought up the rear.
Emotional townsfolk filled St Peter's church for the service, with hundreds more listening outside on loudspeakers. Among the family, friends, and school teachers, many others came to pay their respects, including the hundreds of volunteers who tried valiantly to save her.
Outside, the crowd remained; weeping, staring, mumbling responses as the service was relayed.
The nine-year-old died on February 27th from dehydration and hypothermia, when she became trapped in a well for five days, after being pushed by the teenage boy who had been bullying her.
Logan Bush, 15, had approached Louise that evening, wanting to perform a painful wrestling move on her. He later claimed it was 'revenge' for when she had thrown a rotten cantaloupe, which had landed on him. Logan was already having counselling for anger issues, and had been picking on Louise for at least a year. He had lured the child from her home, and chased her through town, eventually cornering her, and threatening to do the wrestling move, back in October. Louise's older brother stepped in and took the 'punishment', but Logan was still mad at Louise. When he saw her at Wharf Park on the 22nd of February, he wanted to do that wrestling move, but instead, he pushed her, and Louise fell into the uncovered, abandoned well. She was trapped under rubble, and volunteers descended upon the park, wanting to help.
At first, it was believed that it would only take a few hours to dig down to her. Rescuers were not too worried; Louise did not appear to be seriously injured, and the little girl was bossing them about. However, it took them five days to drill down more than 80 feet, and then dig across, where she was located. By the time they reached her, Louise had died.
The story sent shock waves throughout New Jersey, and the rescue efforts were covered extensively. People were shocked and outraged over the bullying, and at the lengths Logan went to to try and hurt the child.
Outside the packed church, one mother clung tightly to her 3-year-old son.
"It was heartbreaking – but the pain will ease at some point, and Louise will never be forgotten,' Sharon Kingsley said.
She said the death of Louise has made her far more concerned about her own child, Reece. 'I was always worried about bullies; what parent isn't? But now I'm afraid for him,' she said.
Inside the church, a touching eulogy was performed by Louise's father, in which he referred to Louise as a 'spark plug', and remembered her as a little girl who loved animals, and talked of her strong sense of righteousness, along with her love for her family. He asked the congregation to remember Louise, and then the mourners approached the coffin one at a time to say their goodbyes.
After everyone had paid their respects, acclaimed pop group Boyz 4 Now, Louise's favourite band, came up to the coffin and paid their respects. The band are believed to have made a sizeable anonymous donation to help cover funeral costs, and they remained at the casket for several minutes, paying tribute to one of their biggest fans.
"It was very moving," revealed an unnamed source. "I always thought they were just a typical, attention seeking boy band, but after witnessing what they did, it just restores your faith in humanity a bit, you know?"
The group did not do anything to draw attention to themselves, but instead stood quietly with the other mourners, throughout the service.
They then attended the burial service, but did not attend the reception, which was held at Louise's home.
As the town mourns the loss of the little girl, online tributes have flooded in from around the world.'
Bob put down the newspaper.
"How did they find out?" he asked no-one in particular.
"Bob, everyone was watching it; don't you remember?" asked Big Bob, glancing at the paper.
"Well, yeah, but... Are they even allowed to publish this without asking us?"
"It's a free country, son; they can print what they want," sighed Big Bob.
"I suppose," muttered Bob. All he could think about was having a drink. Nothing appealed to him more than a beer (or six) at that moment.
Big Bob patted him on the back, and then began to make breakfast. Bob's stomach churned at the smell of eggs, and even toast; he would sure he wouldn't even be able to drink water.
"How do you want your eggs, Tina?" asked Big Bob.
"Sorry, I'm not hungry," the girl whispered, before leaving the room. For once, Gene did not follow her; instead he remained at the table, the picture of Louise clutched to his chest.
Back in her bedroom, she opened up the laptop and inserted the tribute DVD she had made and began to watch it. When it was finished, she watched it again. There was an air of finality to it now, she thought, watching herself, Gene, and Louise run around on the screen.
She didn't watch it again when it was finished; instead she logged onto her Facebook page; many of her friends had written tributes to Louise on their profiles. After reading through them, the restless girl made her way back out of her room.
She headed to the now empty kitchen, and opened the fridge. Inside was all the leftover food from yesterday. Not even bothering to get a plate, Tina grabbed the pizza fingers by the handful, and began eating them with no expression. She wasn't even hungry; she just needed to do something. Only when they had all gone, did she stop to take a breath, before moving on to the potato wedges, and then the cakes. She didn't feel any better when she had finished, and so she went into the living-room, where her family were, sitting silently. Tina couldn't think what they were supposed to do now. Were they supposed to just go about their lives, even though there was a huge hole in it? Sitting and doing nothing didn't seem right, nor did going about their normal routine. How could they sit, and laugh, and joke, when Louise was no longer with them? How were they expected to go back to work, and be able to function? Speaking of..
"Dad? When are we gonna open up the restaurant?" she asked.
"I don't know, Tina," he answered numbly. "I don't feel like it, okay?"
"Okay."
"Bob, what are you gonna do about money?" asked Big Bob. "You've got enough savings to keep you afloat?"
"I don't know," Bob repeated. "All I know is, I'm not opening up the restaurant." At this point, he didn't care if he couldn't pay the rent, he didn't care if he lost the diner; he couldn't see himself ever stepping behind the grill ever again. He just wanted to curl up, and either die or cry.
As soon as he could get away, Bob drove to back to the Lucky Lizard, craving alcohol. He knew there was wine at home, but there was more variety here. Plus, he needed to get away, and go somewhere he couldn't think, because he couldn't bear to think about Louise, and at home he was surrounded by reminders of her.
He remained in the bar for hours on end, drinking continuously, drowning his sorrows, until the barman had to throw him out once midnight came.
This time, however, he did not go home; forgoing his car, he stumbled on foot to the cemetery, his drunkenness meaning that he didn't register the long walk. His mind was focused on one thing, and one thing only; his daughter. She was all by herself; she was probably scared and confused, and he had to comfort her. He was her dad, that's what dads do.
Despite the dim lampposts, he soon found Louise's grave; the masses of flowers made it very easy. Bob blinked, a bit of awareness shining through. He could see bouquets, wreaths, teddies, letters, photos, piled up so high that all could be seen of her headstone were the bunny ears. He sank to the ground at the foot of the grave.
"Hey, Louise," he said quietly. "I had to come by and see you, to make sure you're okay. Are you?" He waited for a moment, almost expecting a reply. "I hope you're not afraid; I don't know what I'd do if you were," he admitted helplessly. "I can't do anything to help," he said miserably, lowering his head. "I don't know how you're doing, but we're, uh, we're all a wreck. I need you here; we need you here. Can't you come back? Can't you talk to the big guy upstairs? You can talk anyone into anything, so if anyone can do this, it's you." Bob paused, staring at the flowers. "We miss you so much, Louise. So much. I don't see how anything can get better after this. I can't deal with any of this. It should be me in there, not you. I'd give anything to swap places. Can you hear me? If you can, send me some kind of sign, please. Anything." Bob was not, and had never been religious. He and his family never really went to church; Linda had used to as a child, but she'd long stopped going before they had met. She had told him she'd never really cared for it.
Bob didn't know what was up there; he supposed it was nice to believe, but he'd never really given any thought to it.
Now, though, he desperately hoped there was a heaven, because the alternative was too horrible to think about. He much preferred to think that Louise was happy somewhere.
He waited and waited for some kind of sign; he didn't know what – a beam of light, a perfectly timed gust of wind, a white feather, anything. Surely Louise could see how much they were suffering? Surely, she would want to reassure them that she was okay? "Give me a sign," Bob repeated, looking around him.
Again, he waited, but there came nothing. It was just him, sat alone in a graveyard, in the middle of the night. Bob pulled on his hair frustratedly, before standing with shaky legs. "I love you, Louise," he whispered. "I'll come back tomorrow," he promised, giving the headstone one last, sad look, before leaving.
As he had done previously, Bob managed to make his way home, his car and body miraculously intact and collapsed on the sofa.
~ X ~
Another chapter done. I did my best to make the church scenes respectful, and I sincerely apologise if I have gotten anything wrong. What did you think? I'd love to know!