Funeral

Maybe it's the ornate frame of the mirror, but it look more like a painting of a girl long dead than a reflection of a living one. I look beautiful, and it's driving me crazy. Perfectly coifed hair, perfect dress, perfect make-up I don't need, perfect shoes. Perfect 18 year old face and body that don't belong.

I should be a mess. I should have mascara running down my face from tears and my hair should be mussed and my dress should not be perfect because it's not my style. But I can't cry. My insides are a mess and I'm breaking and drowning and grieving and my soul is screaming but the girl in the mirror looks perfect so I smash it… Just a little tap and the whole mirror is cracked and it makes me feel better, to see my broken image, because that is me.

I can feel Edward behind the door, but he doesn't come in. I think he's afraid of what he might find. I can't blame him. Yesterday he had to hold me down for half an hour until I calmed down because I almost scratched my eyes out, angry because they wouldn't cry.

I should be better. I've had 10 years to prepare for this, we all have. But it seems like I'm the only one that wasn't ready.

Ten years ago my daughter found her first gray hair. No one thought much of it until in a few weeks more and more aging signs appeared. Slowly at first, and then more quickly, in a macabre reverse of her speedy growth. We were given time, but it seemed more like a cruel joke.

She was fine, she had no regrets apart from the pain we would go through, she wasn't afraid, but us… we couldn't accept it the way she did. Nature was taking its course and we couldn't stop it, I couldn't stop it and it was killing me too…

So I kept pretending it wasn't happening, and now I'm here, at my daughter's funeral, and I am not ready. Not to say goodbye, not to face everyone, not to face the rest of eternity without her… without them…

We're burying them together, Nessie and Jake. It's how it should be. It took us a while to realize Jake was aging too, but he did, and they died minutes apart. I guess the link between them was stronger than life or death.

I get myself together and open the door. They are all waiting for me. I don't say anything. I can't, I'm afraid if I open my mouth I'll just scream. But I have to be brave (isn't that what they always say?) and get through this, and my reward will be that it will get better, eventually, with time… So many clichés…

I hold on to Edward with all my strength, because through all this he is the only one that can truly understand what I feel and how much it hurts, because it hurts him too. And he is the only possible consolation I can have, that no matter what, for the rest of eternity, he and I will always be together.