Death Is Not Your Fault

We stood by the beach. Holding hands as a tear fell down her face.

“He loved you. You know that right?”

“As a friend.”

I chuckled, “No silly. He loved you the way you love him. He didn’t have to tell you, it was evident in the way he looked at you. The way he talked about you. The way he smiled at you. He wanted to tell you. He really did.”

“I don’t think this is helping Ryan. I’m going back to my house. I’ll be back for dinner.”

I watched her walk off the beach. The moment her figure disappeared, a heavy sob seized my body. Sand molded to my feet as my body moved forward. I didn’t know where else to go. I couldn’t go back to that house. I kept walking. Maybe I wanted to join him. But the shock of the cold water stopped me. My knees buckled, as my hand reached for the sand. I wanted to feel something. I thought about Sarah’s comment, about me telling her he loved her and how it didn’t make her feel better.

She failed to realize she had it better than me.

At least he loved her.

I spent so much time trying to get him to love me. I was the girl from the beginning. I was willing to wait for Sarah’s moment to pass, but now she was his forever love. The only woman he will ever love. At least she got that.

I never will.

***************

We all wore black for dinner. His mother hugged each of us and gave a strained smile as she moved to the next person. Her smile faltered when she saw Sarah. As she hugged her, Sarah made sure not to cry. On the other hand, his mother failed and wiped her face when looking at Sarah.

I knew what his mother was thinking. All the opportunities he would never have. He would never date. He would never have a girlfriend. He would never fall in love. Sarah was the symbol of that loss. His mother knew too. She overheard him tell me about his feelings for Sarah. He planned on asking her to prom. I was going to help him with his plan. It was supposed to be a surprise. We were going to do it a week from today.

Instead of planning, we were at his funeral.

Our teachers and coaches gave nice speeches about him. They spoke about his ability to lead and how the entire school loved him. People who only saw him in the hallways in between classes, cried while listening to the remarks. Girls who held secret crushes on him sobbed as his mother played videos from his childhood. Our school counselor, Ms. Robbins, was having trouble seeing through her tear filled eyes. She always had a soft spot for him, since his father died when we were young.

I decided to stay back and help his mother clean up after everyone left. I didn’t want to walk out with everyone. People were giving me weird stares. Sarah stayed back as well and tried to clean for a few minutes, but started crying. She left a few minutes later.

We cleaned in silence.

“Do you want to help me go through his room?” his mother asked.

“Oh no I can’t. You should have a family member do that with you.”

“You are family Ryan. You were — are his oldest friend.”

“But considering the situation — “

“Come on.”

We walked upstairs into a baby blue room. He refused to change the color as he got older, because it calmed him. She started at the closet. Taking his clothes off the hanger and handing them to me to fold. His scent filled the room as we shook out his sweaters and ran our fingers over the fabric to remove wrinkles. I didn’t realize I was crying until a tear fell onto his shirt. I tried to wipe it before she saw me.

I thought about how she was handling this with such dignity. She grieved like a woman who grieved before. I was crying every chance I got.

His dad died when we were ten. Cancer took him and it was a slow death. I visited the hospital so much, the nurses started arguing with the doctors when they said I wasn’t family and couldn’t stay.

The day we got the news, we were in social studies class. Ms. Robbins pulled him out of class and told him. Then I got pulled out of class. He needed a friend, Ms. Robbins said. The whole town went to his Robert’s funeral. I never thought that in just six short years I would be at another funeral, this time for his son. My best friend.

“I know you’re in love with him.”

“Huh? Wh — what do you mean?”

“Ryan, it’s okay. I know you’re in love with him. You’ve been in love since thirteen years old. He never knew. I knew. I always knew. Though he did love you with all his might. I do think one day his love would have turned into the love you had.” I began breathing heavily. “Sweetie, your love for him is enough for me to forgive your mother. I understand the situation. You’re like my daughter.” She stopped to wipe her tears. I took a breath in between sobs.

“Its not your fault. It’s not at all. I love you. He loved you.”

“I’m — so — sorry.” I sobbed. She grabbed me and hugged me tightly. She just lost her only son and here she was comforting me. I reminded myself to breathe. She opened her mouth.

“The night before his death, he asked me if there was someway you could live with us. He knew you were having a rough time at home and wanted to help you. See Ryan, he didn’t have the love you had, but it was love nonetheless. A love that made him want to protect and nurture you. That love is the love we all try to achieve.” She took a moment to look at me.

“You had it better than Sarah.”

*****************************************************************************************************************

She killed him, in one of her drunken spells. I told her not to get into the car that night, but she pushed me to the ground and drove off. Two hours later, she called me crying and screaming the words ‘I’m sorry’ over and over. It wasn’t until I went to the scene of the accident that I saw his mother. My mother came running towards me, but two police officers held her back.

“He’s dead, Ryan.” she yelled while being restrained. I was so confused. Who was dead? What did my mother do? I saw his mother’s tears. My mind started racing. He told me he was taking a walk near the promenade. I looked around. We were at the promenade. I felt sick. I managed to croak out one word, “Who?”

“Jacob.”

My heart dropped.

“Baby I didn’t mean to hit him. It was dark, I saw him too late.” The police officers looked at me as she spoke, and then interrupted to ask if I wanted to go to the police station with her.

“No.”

I ran towards the beach.