This first part is Carly's POV, in case anyone is confused. It then switches to Sam's POV, then back to Carly's and so on and so forth. They're labeled.

The coroner's report said that there was an abundance of alcohol and a prescription sleeping aid in her blood stream. No doubt, she got the pills from her mother. The BAC was .43; they said that anything over a .4 could cause a coma. The official cause of death was a drug overdose, though. They said that had she not taken the drugs, she might have actually survived with only a massive hangover the next morning. Why would they even say that? Why give some kind of false hope to someone that just lost the most important person in their life? As if, by letting me know what could have happened, I could jump in my time machine and somehow prevent this tragedy. It just made me cry harder knowing that if I had been there for her, I actually might have been able to save her life. She might actually be here right now, breathing and so alive. The complete opposite of what she was right now. Cold, dead, and in a morgue downstairs, surrounded by other lifeless bodies in a meat freezer. She deserved so much better than that.

Pushing through rushing bodies on the hospital floor, I found myself staring at the looming doors that lead to the chapel on the fourth floor. Why was I even here? It's not as if I had anything to say to Him. Didn't need to thank Him for saving the girl I loved, for bringing her back to me in one piece. I did need to ask Him a favor, though, one I knew only He could grant. I sighed and opened up one side of the double doors, walking in with such nonchalance that I felt almost disrespectful. I sat in the back row, away from the people silently praying at the altar, whispering as quietly as I could, hoping that He'd acknowledge my one request.

"I know we don't ever talk, but I need to ask You something."

There was only silence surrounding me while I paused, as if expecting a response of some sort.

"I need You to tell Sam something for me. I need You to tell her that I love her, and that I'm sorry."

I looked around at the small room, the pulpit at the front, the ten rows of pews that sat in front of it. They waited anxiously for the next divine lecture to be presented, given for the sole purpose of saving some wandering umbra and bringing them back to "the light".

"I need You to tell her how sorry I am for not being there for her. I don't want her to think I didn't care. But how could I have shown her if I didn't even know anything was wrong?"

Tears began to sting my eyes; I tried to blink them away, but they streamed down my face, drawn by gravity and overflowing emotion. This was so pointless. It's not like she'd ever hear anything that I was saying. I stood up abruptly, disturbing someone in the front. We made eye contact for a second, exchanging hopeless glances; we both knew we were there for inane reasons. I turned around and pushed my way through the double doors. That's all I was, and all I'd ever be from now on: hopeless.

Sam's POV

I wanted to grab her arms and shake her, tell her that what she was feeling wasn't hopelessness, it was just sadness. Sadness that would pass as quickly as it came. I wanted to tell her that she needed to stop second-guessing herself because there was no doubt in my mind concerning how she felt about me. It hurt so bad to see her like this, though. And to think that I was the one responsible for her pain just made it a whole lot worse. I wished there was some way I could communicate with her. Watching her walk down the now empty hall towards the elevators, I followed her, not permitting a gap between us. I knew in my heart that she couldn't see me, but there had to be some reason I was still here, right? There had to be something that I was supposed to accomplish while wandering invisible and oblivious around this world. I boarded the elevator with her and stood as close as I could. I smelled the scent of the coconut shampoo still fresh in her hair, and imagined the soft skin of her neck against my lips. Oh, how I regretted what I'd done. Nothing was worth causing her this kind of distress. I watched as she tilted her head down and sobbed, hands covering her delicate face in hope that no one would see. But I saw. I witnessed everything, even her breakdown at my house beside my body; I stood there powerless as she held my cold hand and cried into the concrete air around her for help that no one could give her. I reached up and put my hand on her arm, hoping that it might comfort her. She gasped and turned around briskly, meeting my eyes with her own.

"Carly..."

I knew that she was looking straight through me like she was behind a one-way mirror, but I still felt like a connection was made, like she sensed my presence somehow. The elevator pinged, alerting us that we had reached the ground floor. She turned on her heels and ran for the front door in the lobby. I followed her, running as fast as I could, but couldn't make it through the sliding doors. There was a force beyond my control pulling me back inside the hospital. I slammed my hand hard against the glass door, causing a loud slap that I knew was only audible to me.

"I love you, Cupcake..."

Carly's POV

I stopped to catch my breath once I reached the parking lot. I turned around to make sure no one was following me. There was no one, save an elderly couple exiting the hospital doors; the man was in a wheel chair. I used to hope that would be Sam and me one day, now I just hoped that it would never be me, that I wouldn't be around long enough to grow old and need someone to wheel me around. Don't get me wrong, though, I could never consider...doing what she did. I just missed her so much. I didn't want to be apart from her any longer than I had to. But, back there in the elevator, I felt her. For a second I was so sure I felt her there with me. It was as if she was right there behind me trying to comfort me. I felt so calm there, so serene. It wasn't rational, though. As much as I wanted to believe that it was her, I knew it wasn't rational. I glanced back at the doors, wanting to see her in the reflection, in the passing wind, in a shadow. Somewhere. Anywhere. I wanted to see my Sam looking back at me.

Spencer and I pulled up at the funeral home around 8:30am. It didn't start until nine, but we were included in the immediate family, so we arrived early like her mother. Melanie joined us, as well. She hopped on a plane the second her mother called to deliver the news and was here that same night.

There weren't many people at the funeral, way less than I expected. A lot of kids from school came, Freddie and his mother were there, and Spencer and me. Some of Sam's aunts, uncles, and cousins came, too, but I didn't know any of them. I sat quietly in the small room that was reserved for family members, wondering to myself how this was going to go. I would cry, that I was sure of, but I wasn't certain I could hold myself together through the service and while I passed by the casket. There had been no visitation, so I hadn't had time to prepare for what was coming. I hadn't seen her since they rolled her out of her house, into that cold ambulance, thinking that they could save her from a death she intentionally brought upon herself. They didn't know how headstrong she was, and that when she set out to do something, there was no stopping her. They didn't know Sam Puckett.

"How you holdin' up, kiddo?"

Spencer joined me on the small bench. I couldn't bring my eyes to budge from their fixed position on the baseboards.

"I'm okay."

"Okay" was the only word I could use to describe myself right now; the only neutral word, anyway. He didn't need to know how I was really feeling.

"Look, if you're not up to it, we don't have to do this..."

"No..."

I looked up at him, all the affliction surfacing in my brown eyes.

"I want to."

Sam's POV

I stood at the altar of the small funeral home, propped up against the casket with my body in it. Peering over the edge, I realized that the empty form laying there looked nothing like me. It actually looked more like Melanie, in my opinion. I never wore makeup, of which there was an abundance on my face, and I certainly didn't wear dresses. This was the last time anyone would see me, and I had to look like a preppy, girly girl. I could only imagine what Melanie would think when she looked at me and saw a mirror image of herself.

Carly was sitting in the family room by herself. There were others around her, but I knew she was feeling alone; I could tell by the look in her eyes. She wasn't crying yet, but the tears were coming. I watched as Spencer sat beside her and put his arm around her. She wouldn't look at him at first, only responded blankly to his question. She was "okay", she said, but I knew that "okay" wasn't at all what she really was. Spencer told her that she didn't have to be here if she wasn't up for it, and once again, she told him blankly that she wanted to. There were two parts to Carly Shay right now; one was telling her to run far, far away to prevent anymore pain and suffering, the other was telling her that she needed to be here for me, for us, because if she wasn't, then I might think she didn't love me. It was ridiculous, really. Whether she stayed or left, it wouldn't change her feelings for me.

I looked around the main room of the funeral home, finding that it was bare compared to how I always imagined funerals to be. The pews in the front were full of mainly my uncles and some of the guys from school. Freddie was on the very front bench, staring deeply into his small, fidgety hands. I watched as Spencer sat beside him, showing the same brotherly love and concern to Freddie as he had to Carly. I looked to my left to see the separate family seating. Carly, Melanie, and my mother were in the front row, surrounded by empty seats. It was sad, I thought to myself, that they were the only family I had. Really, it was just Spencer and Carly that were my family. I never saw Melanie and well, you know how my mom obviously felt about me.

They began the service, starting with some Bible verses and a hymn. It was all bullshit to me; no doubt some half-hearted, frantic attempt by my mother to save my soul "from the fires of damnation". Cue the waterworks. I just couldn't take it, so I walked outside, away from the tears and the constant reminders from God's anointed pastor that I was "in a better place now, free from pain". I wasn't free from pain, and I certainly wasn't in a better place. My residual self-image was still here on earth, just in an entirely different plane, no longer able to fully interact with the living. I was feeling even more pain now than before I died, because I was basically being forced to watch everyone suffer at the hands of my death.

Carly's POV

"My soul is bereft of peace; I have forgotten what happiness is; so I say, 'My endurance has perished; so has my hope from the Lord.' Remember my affliction and my wanderings, the wormwood and the gall! My soul continually remembers it and is bowed down within me. But this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning: great is your faithfulness. 'The Lord is my portion,' says my soul, 'therefore I will hope in him.' The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul that seeks him. It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord. But though he cause grief, he will have compassion according to the abundance of his steadfast love; for he does not willingly afflict or grieve the children of men."

We sat in silence as the man at the pulpit recited Bible verses to us.

"Now turn with me to the fourteenth chapter of John."

He flipped through the pages in his holy book until he found the place he was looking for. I sat un moving as everyone else rooted through their Bibles, searching for answers, searching for closure.

"Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me. In my father's house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also. I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you. Yet a little while and the world will see me no more, but you will see me. Because I live, you will also live. Peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid."

The words didn't mean a lot to me, I guess because I wasn't paying much attention, but they just seemed so...old. Like they were in a completely different language that I didn't speak a word of. I couldn't interpret any sentences that came from the man's mouth.

"The death of a loved one can shake us to our very foundations. When the person is so young and so full of potential and hope...the feelings of grief and loss can be even more overwhelming. At times such as this we turn to our friends and family for support, for a shoulder to cry on and for someone to walk that road of pain and anguish with us. At times such as this we turn to our faith, to the scriptures and to the church community for the assurance that we are not alone, that someone greater than us watches over us and that our loved one has found the peace in death that must have so eluded him in the last hours of his life."

I didn't turn to faith, or to the church community. I receded back into myself, to grieve alone.

"The words of the third Lamentation could well be our own on this day. The writer knew well the feeling of anguish. Whatever had happened was a devastating event. Not only was this author shaken, but so much so that happiness was all but forgotten. The Bible is a beautiful and powerful book, not only for the message of faith and trust in God that it presents to us but also for the unadorned honesty with which it presents human emotions. There are no punches pulled here; the author tells it like it is. The Bible acknowledges these feelings, the people of faith from long ago did indeed feel free to present these feelings to God without fear because they knew, even in the midst of their pain and grief that their God's love was steadfast and that God's promises were sure. When an individual forgot it or when an individual ceased to believe it for a time, the faith of the community, of family and friends walked with them until those hurting and grieving ones could come back to that relationship of trust and faith and community. The words of the 23rd Psalm are so very familiar to all of us here. They have been uttered so many times in situations of trouble and grief and sadness. They speak to the reality of a God who cares for each one of us like a shepherd cares for sheep. They speak to the reality of a God who, like a shepherd, goes out of the way to save a little one from danger. These verses speak to the reality of a God who cares even when the people have gone in the other direction. This is a love that never ends. This is a love that surrounded Samantha in life, a love that surrounds her in death and in the new life to which she has been raised and surrounds us and carried us in our grief."

I hated how they used her full name. Samantha. She hated to be called that, which is why everyone just called her Sam. They painted this picture of her being so angelic and perfect, as if she was so religious that she made everyone else look like the Devil's advocates. But that's not how it was at all. She wasn't very religious. I mean, sure, she believed in God and prayed every now and then, but she wasn't a devout Christian by any means. She did bad things all the time, drank, smoked, cursed, she had stolen a lot of things, and stuff like that. We weren't religious, we just weren't.

"The gospel lesson speaks to a time when Jesus was preparing to journey to Jerusalem. He knew that the journey to Jerusalem would mean that he had to face suffering and death. Beginning to realize this, the disciples were afraid of being left alone, they were afraid that they would never see Jesus again. Jesus assures them that they will see each other again. Jesus assures them that they will come to know the love of a God who has room for everyone, a God whose love knows no limits. God's love is like a gigantic Bed and Breakfast, where there will never ever be a 'no vacancy' sign. This love gave Jesus the strength to walk the way to the cross. This love strengthened the disciples in the terrible aftermath of his death, and this love can give us the strength and the hope and the courage that we need to go on from this terrible week and into the future. Samantha's life and death has changed you and you will never be the same again, but God will help you find new ways of carrying on, God will give you the strength to go on without her. God's power can deliver you to a new day."

But what if I didn't want His help, what if I didn't want to "carry on" right now? What if I wasn't ready?

"Remember her as she was. Remember the good times, her love and her care for you. Also, in your grief please remember the living: care for one another, for you have all been through a terrible tragedy. Do not forget to give thanks to God, for his life was a precious gift to all of you. Lean on God, for God is strong and is able to carry you through this to the light and peace of a new day."

I was still stuck in Day 1, wasn't ready to progress and make my way through the seven steps of the grieving process. I wasn't ready to go on without her.

Bible verse ideas and sermon property of and thanks to Rev. Beth Johnston. .net/~

I'm not devout enough to come up with one on my own, so thanks, Rev. Beth Johnston.