of tears? Does their body dehydrate and wither or do they merely fall asleep?
If Caleb were here, we’d Google it together on his phone.
I don’t feel any better after my shower, especially not when I see the bed. It’s been completely stripped. My body can’t muster the right emotion for it though, so I just stare blankly at the naked mattress and try not to picture his lifeless body lying on it. Naked bed or not, the image is still there.
My tear bank is empty.
“I don’t feel anything,” I say to no one and make my way to my closet. It doesn’t take me long to find something black. It’s one of Caleb’s hoodies that I insisted he stopped wearing. It’s too big on me. It buries me. It’s perfect. It even smells of him. I wear my own jeans and a pair of socks before slowly descending the stairs.
Sasha is on the phone to her mum. I know she’s worried but no advice can be given. I’d say I feel bad for putting this on my friend, for loading my grief onto her and being ungrateful about it, but I don’t feel anything.
There isn’t a day that doesn’t rain in one’s grieving mind.
“Mum, I’ll call you back,” Sasha says when she sees me stood in the doorway. She places her phone on the side and smiles softly. “Come on, let’s go for a walk.”
I shake my head. “I can’t face the outside world yet, Sash. Please don’t make me.”
She frowns slightly, so slightly I barely see it. “Sure. Let’s play a board game then.”
“No thanks.” I sit on the stool, my head resting on my hands. “You can leave if you have to. You have classes and a job.”
Sasha quirks a brow at me. “I have been leaving. Have you been getting out of bed at all while I’ve been gone?”
She’s been gone? “Sorry.”
“I’m worried about you.” This is said in kindness, her tone screaming of sincerity and concern.
“Me too,” I mutter and stare out of the window. “Why’d he leave me, Sasha?”
“He didn’t.”
I shake my head. “Spare me the spiritual bullshit.” If anyone even tries to tell me that he’s with me in spirit, I will hurt them.
“Shall we cook something?” I shake my head in response. “I’m going to cook us something.”
“I’m going back to bed,” I whisper and climb back off the stool.
“I’m just trying to help.”
I nod, my face as blank as my soul. “I know, babe, and I’m sorry your efforts are lost on me.”
“It’ll get better.” She clasps my hand with her own and gazes at me with warm eyes. “I promise it’ll get better.”
No it won’t. I don’t say this though. I just retreat back to my naked bed and pull a pillow over my head. I lie here in darkness waiting for it to consume me. Then I realise… it already has.
******
We have to drive for three and a half hours to get to the funeral. So do all of our friends from town, which is irritating. The journey doesn’t end quickly enough and when we get there, I keep my eyes on my shoes until I’m seated. I don’t absorb anything, I daren’t.
I do scan the room though. I want to see how many people Caleb touched in his short life.
I’m grateful when no one talks to me from his side, although I doubt they even know who I am. I’m just some knocked up woman in a navy blue dress. There was no way I was going to wear black. Caleb wouldn’t have wanted me to.
His family sit on the opposite side of the room and they don’t look at me. Not that I care.
I’m watching the coffin be carried by people I don’t know. I glance around at faces I’ve never seen and then glance at the ones I have. They’re all sad, all of them. I don’t get it. It’s almost like his life has been split in half. On one side of the room, the side I’m sitting on, is everyone from my town that knew him. On the other is everyone from his old life, before I knew him. They’re all formal and distant with each other. On my side everyone clings to each other. It’s strange. I could never imagine Caleb on the opposite side. I can’t imagine him ever being distant and aloof, especially not during such a traumatic time.
His picture sits on top of his casket, baby blue flowers spelling his name