That Boy

Which, well, we are, kinda. Since I can't go to sleep without his shoulder next to me. But you know, not in the way that lady assumed.

So finally both of us gave up.

It was easier to just agree, than try to explain.

So when people asked him how his girlfriend was doing, he said, she's hanging in there. And when people said I had an amazing boyfriend, I smiled and agreed.

And of course, Phillip had to give me some shit about that.

So last night, when it was just us, he was referring to himself as my amazing boyfriend, my support system, my devoted lover, my, uh, close friend.

He really does make me laugh. And being able to laugh occasionally, in a situation like this, has helped release some of my pent up stress.

At least I haven't blown yet.

The video ends, and the pastor requests that everyone join us at the place of rest.

And seriously, this is the part I have been dreading.

This is the part that freaks me out.

The place of rest.

As in the Cemetery.

Where they will be BURIED.

And I will never see them again.

Okay, yes, I know they are dead. I know they aren't coming back.

I know they are never going to talk to me again.

But for some strange reason, and I know this sounds kind of sick, but having their bodies still here, like at the funeral home and here at the church, it's like they are still a little bit here.

It kills me to look at Mom and Dad laying there in their caskets, not smiling at me, not teasing me, or telling me they love me.

But at the same time, they are still here.

Well, sorta.

I mean, I definitely believe in God and Heaven and all that. And I believe that their souls have gone to heaven, and that someday, when I die, we will be reunited.

But that doesn't mean I am ready to let their bodies go into the ground.

It feels so harsh.

It feels like the wrong thing to do.

Because it feels like that is all I have left of them.

And I'm hanging on by whatever threads are left.

As Phillip walks me to the limo, I tell him, “Phillip, I don't know if I can do this part.”

And of course, Phillip and I can't carry on a conversation because people are wonderful. They keep coming up to me, and hugging me, and holding my hands, and telling me what wonderful people my parents were, how sorry they are for me, how my parents are watching in heaven, all that stuff people say at funerals to try and make you feel better.

And it does, I know they are being sincere, but still, I have a horrible feeling of dread inside me.

Because this is it.

After we bury them, I am going to be all alone.

Phillip pulls me aside, next to the limo. “Princess, you can do this. You've got this. You stood up there and gave that little speech without crying. This will be easy compared to that.”

I whisper, “But Phillip, this is not the easy part because when they bury them, I am going to be alone. All alone.”

And really, that is the part of all this that scares me the most.

Phillip tenderly cups my shoulder with his hand and pulls me into a hug, then he smiles at me, touches the tip of my nose with his finger, and says, “Don't think you can get rid of me that easily. As long as I'm around, you'll never be alone. I do have my reputation to uphold as your, uh, very, close friend, you know. Heck, I'm going to be around so much, you'll probably be begging me to leave.” He gives me a sly little grin.

I give Phillip a little smile, but I don't get to reply because Aunt Sara and Uncle John barrel between us and hop in the limo.

Phillip rolls his eyes at them, then says, “I guess it's time to go.”

I follow them into the limo and it takes all my strength not to pull Phillip in with me.

To protect me.

I have to sit with just them, as in just Aunt Sara and Uncle John for the next part of the service.

I really don't know why I agreed to it, but it was important to John that it be JUST FAMILY, so I did. I figured since I pla

But now, I wish I wouldn't have been so nice.

Especially when I get in the limo and Uncle John doesn't say a word to me. On the ride to the cemetery, I thought maybe he would say something about how I was brave to stand up there and speak, which so many other people have said.

Or how amazing he thought the slide show was because it showed them, as we all remember, so full of happiness and life.

But no. Nothing.

I don't think I like Uncle John very much.

At the cemetery, I take my seat next to John under the tent covering the two freshly dug graves.

We wait for the twelve most important men in my life, the pallbearers, to get the caskets out of the hearses. There's Mr. Diamond and Da

Of course, Phillip was going to be a pallbearer. But when we were pla

Well I mean, John and Sara were going to be there too, but I wasn't expecting any love or support from them.

That's when I begged Phillip to take on an even more important role.

When we were lying in the hammock, looking at the stars the other night because I couldn't sleep, I told him that he's been my rock through all this and asked if he would continue that most important job and PLEASE sit with me at the funeral and hold my hand, so I wouldn't fall apart.

Actually, I kinda begged.

Something about having Phillip squeeze my hand helps me keep it all together.

The pallbearers each grab a handle, as the caskets are slid out of each hearse.

Then they start the long walk up the grassy hill. Before today, many of the pallbearers didn't even know each other, but right now they look like brothers, all in dark suits and all with the same solemn look on their faces.

I forget what they told me the caskets weigh, but I remember them saying they were easily supported by six men. What they didn't say, was that the emotions they seem to be carrying are much, much heavier than the caskets ever could be.

They all look like they are carrying the weight of the world.

I'm sure if I could see my own face, it would probably look the same.

The pastor has started speaking, and I'm trying to pay attention.

I listen to the words and prayers he says, trying to find some comfort in it. And well, honestly, I'm not really feeling it.

Because internally, I am freaking out.

The pastor asks us to stand for the final prayer, and I know its getting close.

As pre-pla

I wanted to fight that part too.

I was fine with the dirt because I get the whole ashes to ashes and dust to dust thing, but the rose bothered me for some reason.

Throwing the rose in, I thought, would feel like it does when you throw a coin in a fountain and make a wish.

I mean how sweet would it be if I could wish them both alive, throw the rose in, and have them pop out of their caskets, alive and laughing.