So the day after the funeral is the day I get to pick out the first few people that I will get to oversee. The first person that comes to mind is my mum.
She gets out of bed this morning hurt, sad, and broken. I don't blame her, I mean, how would you feel if you lost a daughter and a son? My older brother Ashton died while in war. He was so brave that he stood on the front lines. He enlisted three years ago and died last year. I only died three days ago. But what I don't understand is why so many people mourn. I wasn't pretty, smart, funny, or anything worth mourning for. Cause of what I could do? Sometimes it seemed some people kept me around because of my willingness to do things or my capability and strength.
I walk, following my mum out of the kitchen and into the dining room. I see my older brother Tim spoon feeding baby Grace. My mother is holding back tears, as is Tim, but them starting to cry is interrupted by a knock on the front door. My mum goes for the door and I follow. She opens the door and my best friend Mikey is there holding daisies that sort of match the colour of his spiked and dyed hair.
He is greeted by a sobbing hug, and he cries too. This is only the second time I've seen Mikey cry. the first was when I got beat up at school in sixth grade and he wasn't there. He apologised up and down, and promised to never leave school again. And he didn't. He protected me and that's exactly what I needed. He held my hand when I was afraid and made me laugh instead of cry.
He began "miss Laura, I am so sorry about all this, and if you ever need me to do anything, please just call. If you need me to do Lottie's chores or take out Prince, please, just let me know"
I adore him calling me Lottie. It means so much that he would offer to take care of my pitbull; his only competition for my full attention.
My mum speaks "Michael, Dear, thank you very much. I will call if I need anything." He hands my mum the flowers, and exits the porch back to his car. The flowers get placed in a vase and put in the middle of the kitchen table. For a minute I stare at the flowers and admire my best friend's no-compromise attitude because usually with funeral flowers people being a basic bouquet but he ignored that and bought my favourite flowers which means so much more. As I stare I notice baby Grace also staring at the flowers, clearly intrigued by the bright colours.
My older sister cars comes through the front door. She is holding lots of things, and right away I notice, she is being the same old Cara. She makes herself so busy when she is upset or disappointed so she doesn't have to think about whatever it is. She goes to her bedroom and drops everything on her bed and sits. She puts her hands over her face and begins to cry. She asks herself "Cara, why weren't you a better sister to Lot?" She starts to throw things and scream with anger, and she picks up her journal, about to hurl it at the wall, but stops, and opens it, and begins writing.