Jade

Ben meant everything to Jade, and know that he's gone she's lost.

Pain. Pain beyond belief. I never thought that anything could hurt this bad. I feel like I can’t breathe, but more than that. I feel like there’s a huge knot in my stomach, and every time I move it gets tighter. I feel like there’s a crushing weight on my chest. I feel like if I talk or think or do anything I’ll start crying uncontrollably. There are thoughts are swirling around in my head. And there are people surrounding me. They’re saying something, and patting me on the back, or holding my hand and mumbling words under their breath. And I’m completely numb. I can’t. I just can’t. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t stand here and listen to all these people. Offering condolences. It’s just too much. Seeing my parents crying silently, seeing all these people crying. I can’t take it. And just when I think I might scream, four year old Lana comes up to me and tugs at my simple black dress.

“Jade, why is everyone sad?” She whispers when I crouch down to her height.

I open my mouth to say... something. But a choked sob comes out instead. A choked sob that I had been containing for weeks. I haven't cried yet. I have been speaking in a hollow voice since… since…well. But my little cousin whispering in my ear unlocks a part of me that I haven’t allowed my mind to stray to. And suddenly an uncontrollable wave of sadness sweeps over me. And I start crying. Fast, silent tears streak down my face. And I try to stem the tears by wiping them away, but they kept coming. And I feel so helpless, so alone and so...sad. Sad doesn’t really sound like enough, sad is what you feel when your goldfish dies, or when you lose a soccer game. But I can’t think of another word to describe this feeling. I’m not depressed, or miserable, or unhappy. I’m sad. I’m sad, I’m sad. And I can’t breathe, and Lana is staring at me. Her big brown eyes are looking deep into my own. And as the crowd starts moving forward, she walks next to me, still clutching my skirt in her pudgy little hands. I move into my seat in the front row. I see my aunt Shannon in the row behind mine beckoning to Lana, but the toddler shakes her head. When I sit down, she crawls into my lap and gets comfortable. A couple weeks ago, I would have thrown my head back and laughed if I saw Lana defying Shannon to sit with me, but today I just stare stony faced at the man who is now walking up to the pulpit.

“Benjamin Walker. A loyal friend, a kind brother, a caring son…”

I stop listening. I know that the next fifteen or twenty minutes will consist of a man who never even met Ben talking about what a wonderful person he was. The past tense is the worst. People saying things like ‘He lived a great life’ or ‘It will get better with time’. Or the worst of all, ‘Ben wouldn’t want you to shut yourself out’. How do they know what Ben would want? How on earth do they know that things will get better? How dare they say things like that?

I hear a loud sob a couple rows back. I turn instinctively and see Harper. She’s sobbing into her hands, loud uncontrollable sobs. She can’t catch her breath and I see her struggling to calm down but every time she seems to get a grip she breaks down again. She starts to attract looks from the crowd.

“We will all miss Benjamin. But we know that he is in a better place now.”

And here we go again. The stupid stereotypical sayings, supposed to make us feel better. The man steps down from the pulpit and rejoins the crowd. My parents walk on stage. And my father starts talking about how when Ben was ten, he had a chemistry set that he played with every day. He tells how passionate Ben was, and how proud he felt seeing his son work so hard, care so much about learning.

All the while, the crowd cries silently. And for some reason I get angry. Angry at my dad for telling some stupid story about Ben that happened nine years ago, angry at the man who spoke first, who talked about all of Ben’s great qualities, angry at everyone in the crowd for crying about a boy they barely knew, angry at my mother, whose mascara was smeared across her face, angry at Harper, for her uncontrollable sobs, angry at Shannon for her sympathetic, sad smiles and her ever present arm around my shoulder, and angry at Lana for being so innocent. I can’t take it anymore.

I stand up abruptly, causing Lana to slide off of my lap. Dad pauses in the middle of his speech. He stares me right in the eye. His deep blue eyes are full of sorrow, and he has big bags under them from all the sleepless nights. He doesn’t say anything, but his meaning is clear, please don’t do anything Jade, please just stay here. As much as I hate causing my dad any more pain, the hot, humid church room, quiet except for my dad’s slow words and the occasional sniffle from the crowd, is suffocating. I know that I have to get out.

I walk down the aisle and out the large wooden doors. A breeze hits me in the face and I take a breath. I’m reminded of the cold winter days, years ago, when Ben and I would have competitions to see who could breath all the way in without coughing. And I remember the sharp pain that felt as though a knife was piercing my lung. And my breath would catch on the cold. I never won those competitions. And as I try to take a breath, I catch on the pain, and I start sobbing. The first time that I have let myself really cry, and I am crouched against the side of an old church. I get many looks from people walking by. They look at the fourteen year old girl, in a pretty black dress, crying hysterically against the side of a church. I know that I should be somewhere a little bit more private, but I can’t bring myself to move. I can’t bring myself to do anything but let my emotions out. The emotions I have been suppressing for almost two weeks. I have been strong for my parents, strong for Harper, strong for Shannon and Lana, and I can’t take it anymore. Being strong is too much.

Suddenly I hear the sound of dozens of feet, and I know that the ceremony is over, and we are heading to the graveyard.

“Jade.” A quiet voice says my name gently. I look up and see a blurry Shannon holding her hand out to me. I take it and wipe the tears from my eyes.

“It’s just a short walk over this hill.” Shannon answers my question before I ask it. We start moving towards the graveyard. When we arrive a few minutes later, there are seats set up in front of a large wooden casket, which is being supported by ropes over a large hole in the ground. I sit down in the front row, next to my parents, with Lana and Shannon on my right. Another man I don’t recognize walks up and starts speaking. I stare at him blankly for the entire speech. Only when they start lowering the casket does it hit me. Ben is in there. He is lying, ice cold, in a wooden box. I suddenly remember that Ben was claustrophobic, and I know then and there that I can’t let them lower my brother into that hole. Shannon puts her hand on mine, and squeezes it gently. I swallow the bile that has entered my mouth and focus all of my energy into not throwing up. The tears stream down my face as I watch my brother get lowered into the depths of the perfectly rectangular hole that has been dug so expertly in the hot, dry, earth.

Author's Note

Hi, this is something I wrote a few years ago but it's one of my favorite pieces, and I'd love to pick it up again. I'd really appreciate any constructive criticism!