. . .
( bonus chapter )
the eulogy
. . .
When they told me she was gone, it took me a while to realize where, and then a tad bit longer to realize why.
When they told me to write a eulogy, it took me a whole day reading other people's to see if I could write one good enough for Sam.
Because she deserves it.
Sam deserves so much, and I don't know if her short time spent with me was enough to be considered "so much".
Sam hated most people, except for a very rare few. I am one of the fortunate people to be loved and cared for so selflessly by someone like her, and the fact that I'm standing here today is proof of that.
In the past year or so that I've gotten to know her, I realized that she hated only those who didn't love her. Anyone who knew her enough to see past her tough outer skin, she treated with extra care and sweetness. Everyone else, she decided, was just not worth her time.
Sam was practical and efficient that way.
Someone like Sam deserves to know when someone loves her. Sam was a difficult person to read, but that can probably explain why she finds it so hard to read others. If you weren't being straightforward about it, she wouldn't know.
Sam was naive and child-like that way.
Looking back, maybe that was what made us click so fast.
To others, Sam was a rebel. A tough and stubborn girl with strength enough to take you down in one hit. But my version of Sam was different.
My Sam would do all the wrong things for all the right reasons.
She would do something illegal just to cheer a friend up: like stealing a whole furniture set, for example.
She would do something reckless just to keep a friend out of danger: like jumping into the back of a speeding truck. Or taking the fall in a motorcycle accident.
To others, those things may sound dangerous and bad, but there were deeper and sweeter things involved in those actions that more than make up for them. At least, I feel that way.
Sam was a lot of things to me, but she was a good friend before anything else.
If I'm not making sense to you right now, it's because it's a difficult thing to do, to explain someone like Sam. A friendship with Sam is just one of those things you have to experience yourself instead of just hear about. Like an inside joke.
I'm really, really glad that Sam and I could be friends. And I'm not exaggerating when I say that I wouldn't even be here today if it weren't for her.
Sam made all the cliches make sense.
And it hurts. It hurts so much because I'm going through all this, without her. We've been through so much together, but this is the hardest obstacle, and she's not here with me to tell me I can do it and that we'll be just fine.
I don't know if I will ever be just fine after her.
I have a lot of caring friends in my life whom I love very much. But no one else could do for me what Sam was brave and reckless and tough and sweet enough to do.
And if you're standing there looking at me crying over her, and you're thinking of saying you're sorry, please don't. Because Sam wouldn't have apologized for saving my life.
If anyone should apologize, it's me. Because I'm weak and little and fragile, and Sam knows it, and I know it. And that is why she's always protecting and looking out for me. Good friendships don't get any better than that.
But you wouldn't know, because you never got to know Sam the way I did.
And maybe that's the only thing you should be sorry about.
/ /
If you want to know, I didn't end up reading out the whole eulogy.
I couldn't.
The moment I got to the point where I had to say her name out loud, I couldn't do it. It just got stuck.
Someone had to usher me off the podium thing after they realized I couldn't go on and could only sob. It seems that's the one thing I can do properly these days. Cry and cry and cry.
I feel sorry for my friends who'd helped me write it, of course, but it just didn't feel fair to me that all of these people would get to hear my feelings for her, and not Sam herself.
And that made me think of how I'll never be able to tell her all that. How she would never know how I feel.
And yet she took the fall for me.
Sam was not a hugger, that much she made clear.
But the few times that she did hug me first were all memorable.
And the last time was the most unforgettable.
Sam hurt a lot of people in her life, but she always made sure not to hurt me. If anything, she was always keen on preventing me getting hurt.
I love her, and I believe that she loves me too, in her own way.
But unlike hers, my love wasn't enough to save her life.
And maybe that's why this is such a sad story.
I just hope, before she went fully onto that other side, I just hope she knew I love her. I just hope she went away knowing that I love her, because I don't think she got that enough when she was still here.
I hope that she finally read in between the lines, that in the spaces between the letters whenever I say something like, "I'm so glad we're friends!" there was always a dash of "I love you".
Because I do really love Sam Puckett. I love her a lot. I miss her a lot. And I just hope she believed in me enough to know all of these things.
. . .
Note: I'm sorry. I had to. Thanks to your reviews, I was inspired to quickly attach this brief follow-up to the oneshot. It's not my favorite thing to write, but I thought Sam Puckett deserved an okay enough eulogy.