September 22nd

September 22nd just isn't the same for Cary this year.

Today was September 22nd. It wasn't really any different to any other day. I got up, got dressed, all the usual routine. But one things different. Only one thing but it makes a world of difference. Today is September 22nd, and today is my best friends funeral.

I'm not okay. I'm pretending to be but I don't think I'm fooling anyone. Ever since she died last week, all I've got is sympathetic glances or the run of the mill 'I'm sorry'. Why do people think that helps? It doesn't. I'm sure they feel the same way when they're in my situation, don't they?

"Are you ready to go?" My mother asks me from the doorway to my room. "Cary, love?"

I take a deep breath before answering her as calmly as I can. "Yes" I lie, because really I'm not ready. How can someone ever be ready for this? "Just 5 more minutes."
She smiles very slightly at me before leaving me alone.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror that hangs over my dresser. I don't look like me anymore. I look pale, I realise painfully that I look almost dead too. My usually bright eyes, are red from all the crying I'd done in the past week.

Not being able to look at my own reflection anymore, to see the pain in my eyes. I dragged my eyes around the room. A room the two of us had spent a lot of time in. Years of childhood sleepovers, eating ice cream and watching scary movies. Talking about boys and dancing around to our favourite songs using our hairbrushes as microphones.

To my surprise I felt a smile forming on my lips. Remembering what fun times we'd had in the past really was helping, only a little but it was enough.
I knew now that I could get through this. It wouldn't be easy but I'd make it. It'd take a lot of time, and probably a lot more pain but eventually I'd be okay.  People might point and stare, and talk about me like I'm not there. and one day it won't be because I lost my best friend, one day it'll be because I'm me. Cary Rideout.

"Are you ready to go now Cary?" My mother asks me again, as I walk downstairs.

"Yes, Mum, I am." And this time I really was.