The Day Of…
7:15…
I wake up to a short text from Kacey.
“Hey, not going to make it to school today. Not feeling well. I’ll see you tomorrow babe.”
It made sense. She had just gotten over Laryngitis and was in that stage of being sick where you have braved the storm and just have to survive the aftershocks. She mentioned the other night that her parents weren't home. They both were on a business trip, which meant that their house was my free real estate. I picked out the cleanest pair of pants I could find and went to school.
12:15…
6th period lunch is the best. The reason for that I still have not figured out. It's just amazing. You feel superior to those other people who have 5th period lunch which gives you this unnecessary dopamine boost. Point is, 6th period lunch is quality content. I text Kacey to make sure she’s okay. I plan on visiting her after school. Maybe bring her some flowers. Maybe some chocolates. I’d bring her the world on a silver platter if I could. Unfortunately I’m not Jesus, although I’m sure that kid, Jesus, could hook me up with a snow globe in the shape of the world. Will have to check back on that later.
2:15…
I show up at her house, flowers and chocolates in hand. I ditched the snowglobe, primarily because Jesus wasn’t going to give me one unless I went bankrupt. Whatever, snow globes are overrated anyway. Unbenounced to her parents, Kacey gave me a key to her house. Her house, while not a mansion, is decently sized with two floors and four bedrooms. I open the door and hear the bath running upstairs. If there’s one thing I know about Kacey is that she hates baths with a passion. Showers, as I’ve observed,were always her thing considering the fact that I’ve taken a couple with her. She always saw baths as a thing of bathing in her own filth and she deemed it unproductive. I figured that a bath is probably better to take when you're sick, so I let her have her experience. “Kacey, I’m here.”, I yelled. There was no response. I figured she couldn’t hear me over the water so I sat in my usual spot on the couch and waited.
3:15…
I wake up to the sound of running water. For a second I’m struck with confusion as to where I am but then I remember. Kacey. I rush upstairs and I gently knock on the door. No response. It was only then that I realized that my socks were wet and that I was standing in a giant puddle of water. I knock on the door harder this time and realize that it's open. “Kacey, what’s going on and why is the floor all-”. Something I don’t think we realize is the color and consistency of blood, primarily because it constantly remains within our bodies. But when we see in its truest form in the open, it’s a shock to our system. Her blood clings to my navy blue sweats. The very same pair she bought me for my birthday. Amidst the red dyed water is a spark of silver. I look closer to see that it’s a razor blade. My mind goes blank and I follow my body to hers and grab her and hold her. I ask. I plead. I demand for her to breath. I beg her to cry, or scream, or gasp. Any resemblance of life, is all I ask from her.. The spark and flecks of gold in her eyes, the same onesI fell in love with, are dim and filled with grey. Her hands are cold to the touch and her dirty blond hair is soaking wet. I yell. Not to anyone in particular. Just the universe I guess. I yell, I yell, I yell and no answer. I drag her lifeless body out of the bath and I press her head to my chest. Her arms are bloodied and bruised, covered in scars and cuts. My sobs are loud and intrusive and they break the quiet that she so desperately hated. My phone is downstairs and going to get it would mean leaving her alone. I hover my hand over her mouth. Nothing. No evidence of the person I loved. Just a corpse. A beautiful, broken, dead corpse. There’s nothing I can do except sit and hold her, so I do. I hold her and tell her I love her with my whole soul, heart, and mind. As powerful as love is, one thing I’ve learned is that you can’t love someone back to life. But you can try. So I do. I will always try.
The Funeral…
It's always a surprise to get a peek into another part of a person’s life. You know the part that was outside of your little bubble with that person. The part that person hid away, or the part you just never bothered asking about. Apparently, Kacey lived a big life outside of the one she had with me. Whether I never asked about it or if she just hid it away is beyond me. There’s so many people here. Some I recognized from school, some of her family members I met before, and some I’ve never seen. All of these people that Kacey impacted or loved, all in the same place. I see herparents across the row of seats. Her father and I lock eyes and he gives me the slightest of approving head nods, while also wearing a face that says “I hate you”. Kacey’s father, Lewis Adams, was always a mystery to me. Whenever I’d come to their house, he would always be in his study, only emerging once or twice for a drink or a bathroom break. He never gave the “if you hurt my daughter, I will kill you” talk, though I don’t think he had to. Mr.Adams, while being a man on the older side, was incredibly big and muscular, and I think there was always a mutual agreement that if I did hurt his daughter in any way, that he would literally snap my neck. I believed he could do it too, so I just always stayed out of his way and was always respectful.
Kacey’s Mom on the other hand was a different story. A small woman with a big voice, Alisssa Adams was always incredibly kind and fond of me. I lock eyes with her as well and she smiles at me and nods. I look around. Everyone is in different stages of grief, yet they’re all still grieving. Then there’s me, in the center of my own little universe. Unaware of what to do, where to go, or who to turn to. There’s this anxiousness inside of me that I haven't felt since I started taking the medication. 3 different meds to take two times a day, just to keep me from losing my mind. Spiraling out of control is always a risk of existing for me. Then Kacey died, and I went full on spiral. I stopped taking my medication, I was angry all the time, I stopped eating. It’s only been 2 weeksand I’m already an emotional wreck. Love can make you whole but can also empty you out and tear you apart. I took my seat up front next to who I think is...was Kacey’s aunt. She notices me and gives me a sad smile. Kacey’s dad walks up to the podium and clears his throat. He's already got tears in his eyes. He looks out into the crowd longingly, waiting...perhaps looking for something or someone that would never arrive. You could just tell...you could see the want, the need, to have his daughter back.
He talked for only a few minutes, having to stop every now and then to wipe his tears. I couldn’t tell you anything he said as my brain fell down the rabbit hole of anxiety and fear...and grief. It’s almost my time to speak and my hands start to tremble. I feel bile rise in the back of my throat and I swallow it. If Mr.Adams already hates me I don't think it’d be a good look for me to puke in front of his daughter’s casket. At the end of his turn, Mr.Adams turns to me and gestures to the podium. I take a deep breath and gingerly walk to the podium. I grip the sides of it with one of my shaking hands, and use the other to take the eulogy out of my pocket. I stare out into the crowd. Now I know what Kacey’s dad was doing. He was looking for her. He was waiting for her to come running down that hill and take a seat in the back. He and I now have one thing in common: we’re both waiting for someone who will never come. I unfold my paper and begin:
“Kacey Adams. I met her in third grade. Back whengirls had fake disease and us boys couldn't even look at them without being socially outcasted. But even then I knew I loved her. Her pigtails and her gap in her teeth. And those eyes...God those eyes. You got lost in them. They would trap you and wouldn't let you go. As we grew up and being into girls became the status quo, I fell in love with her more and more, day by day. My love for her came in waves...no not just waves...storms. My love for Kacey came in storms. Intense and persistent. The only difference was that the love did not squander when the clouds went away. Even on good days, bright and sunny, not a cloud in sight my love for her pushed at my insides. It rumbled inside me, ready to be unleashed. Then the night of the Prom came and I asked her to go as friends. We got onto the dance floor and I said it right there. Kacey Adams I love you! I love you! I love you! A warm smile spread across her face. And then she looked at me with those beautiful traps of eyes and she said it back. She said it back and everything made sense. I kissed her. I kissed her softly but long and she allowed it. This one beautiful moment for the both of us, in the center of our own universe. This moment, five years in the making, finally came and it was just as good as I thought it would be, in fact it was better. That girl was magic. She could solve world hunger, save the whales, get rid of global warming, just with her smile. And now she’s...gone. I guess that’s the question: What do you do when the fairytale isover? What do you do when the Fairy
Godmother dies and the magic disappears? What do you do when the moon, stars and sky...the talking mice and living candlesticks cease to be? And you’re just left with nothing? Do you just find a new dream? Do you just conjure up a new world in your head? Or...do you let the remains of the prior dream carry you as far as they can? Kacey was my dream. She was my fairytale and honestly, I’m not ready to close this book. I’m not ready to wake up from this dream. I’m gonna let that last word from that very last chapter carry me as far as it can. Do with me what it must. I just can’t find a new dream yet. There will come a day when I can. When my alarm goes off and wakes me up and I’ll pursue something new. Until then though…” My voice cracks. Tears come down like waterfalls and I feel my knees start to buckle. “Take me away baby. Guide my dream. Let’s go to the farthest ends of the world, let’s ride out the storms, let’s be freakin hellraisers. Go and take me away.”
The storm hits and I collapse. I Hold onto the podium and I shrink. Kacey’s dad and what appears to be her uncle pick me up by my arms and help me to my seat. The minute I touch the chair, I get up and run. I book it to my car, get in, and lock the door. Something is welling up inside of me...something worse than anger...rage. Pure unfiltered rage. I slam on my steering wheel with closed fists for minutes at a time and scream every curse word under the sun. This is the worst part. The part thatcomes after the dream: Reality. The real world comes knocking and forces you to face it. Tell you nothing will get better. And if you listen to it’s knocks long enough, you let it in and start to believe it’s lies. Yep that’s her… Reality. She’s calling me and you know what? I think I might just let her go to voicemail.
A Month After…
I stare at the tombstone with contempt. The roses I put there before were wilting, so I replaced them with the ones I bought the night before. After I ran from the funeral, I watched them bury Kacy from my car. I watched unable to move, or speak, or breath. I looked back at myself in the rearview mirror with red puffy eyes and instantly hated being alive. I stayed long after the service ended, knowing that the minute I drove home, all of this would be real. Unbenouced to me, Kacey’s father had also stayed. He walked over to my driver side window and tapped on it. I looked at him through foggy glass, and for some reason instantly filled with anger again. He beckoned me to open the door. He wore the face of a man who needed to talk. I got out and looked up at him while subtly puffing out my chest, suddenly needing to feel more powerful from this lack of control.
“I'm sorry for your loss Liam.” he uttered in a gravelly voice.
“I'm sorry for yours sir.” I replied.
He hugs me. Due to the height difference, his embrace almost lifts me off the ground but I accept it. We stood like that for a minute, but it's not uncomfortable. It's needed. For both sides. We separated and he pats my shoulder. I watch him wipe a tear from his face as hewalks away. I get back in the car and drive home. While on the highway, my mind wanders to the thought of simply letting go of the wheel. Letting the engine of my car take me where it wanted. My hands start to shake and I try my best to keep my eyes on the road and my mind out the gutter. Out of the dangerous place that leads to death. Out of the place Kacey’s mind took her and didn’t come back.
4 Months Later...
I got a call from Kacey’s mom. Her usually loud voice is quiet but hopeful. Hope. The very word that was foriegn to me for months, now doesn’t seem so far away. She explains that she finally mustered the courage and the closure to clear out Kacey’s room. She says that she wanted me to come over and see if there is anything of Kacey’s that I want before all her stuff is gone. I don’t have the heart to turn down her offer. When I get to the house, it’s Kacey’s father that opens the door. He looks at me, gives me a nod of approval, and lets me inside. Mrs.Adams gives me a hug. She walks me upstairs and opens Kacey’s door. I walk in the room and I’m transported to a different world. After all this time, her smell lingers in the air. It’s a mixture of cocoa butter and her tangy scented perfume. I walk over to her shelf. It has markers, even though she hated drawing, pens and pencils. It’s covered with books with dog-eared pages, from her attempts in stopping her favorite moments in time. I guess she didn't know moments in books last forever. Whenever I called her in the morning, she was always rushing to go somewhere. Shewould wake up at 7:00 and be out of the house by 7:10. Just enough time to brush her teeth and get dressed. She wouldn’t make her bed or eat breakfast, she would just leave. I don’t think she would always know where she was going. She would never get to school on time. She would always be rushing somewhere even though she never knew where she was going, she would get there before everyone else.
Maybe that’s why she’s gone; she knew where we all were heading and where we would all inevitably end up, she just wanted to get there before everyone else. Her death is confusing. If she was murdered then I could be furious at the person that killed her. If she died because her heart stopped, then I could be sad because her body wasn’t as strong as her spirit. But what happened to her, it wasn’t natural. I could imagine that it was painful, scary, and...quiet. She always hated quiet. No one destroyed her, she self-destructed. She did something so incredebly stupid and selfish and then she imploded. And I'm probably wrong, but after implosion stars become supernovas. I know that she wanted this, she wanted to be on the other side before me so...yeah she’s my supernova. I hate that she’s gone, but honestly if this had to happen, her being my supernova doesn’t sound that bad to me.
And wherever she is, I hope she got there quickly and I hope she
got there first.
7:15…
I wake up to a short text from Kacey.
“Hey, not going to make it to school today. Not feeling well. I’ll see you tomorrow babe.”
It made sense. She had just gotten over Laryngitis and was in that stage of being sick where you have braved the storm and just have to survive the aftershocks. She mentioned the other night that her parents weren't home. They both were on a business trip, which meant that their house was my free real estate. I picked out the cleanest pair of pants I could find and went to school.
12:15…
6th period lunch is the best. The reason for that I still have not figured out. It's just amazing. You feel superior to those other people who have 5th period lunch which gives you this unnecessary dopamine boost. Point is, 6th period lunch is quality content. I text Kacey to make sure she’s okay. I plan on visiting her after school. Maybe bring her some flowers. Maybe some chocolates. I’d bring her the world on a silver platter if I could. Unfortunately I’m not Jesus, although I’m sure that kid, Jesus, could hook me up with a snow globe in the shape of the world. Will have to check back on that later.
2:15…
I show up at her house, flowers and chocolates in hand. I ditched the snowglobe, primarily because Jesus wasn’t going to give me one unless I went bankrupt. Whatever, snow globes are overrated anyway. Unbenounced to her parents, Kacey gave me a key to her house. Her house, while not a mansion, is decently sized with two floors and four bedrooms. I open the door and hear the bath running upstairs. If there’s one thing I know about Kacey is that she hates baths with a passion. Showers, as I’ve observed,were always her thing considering the fact that I’ve taken a couple with her. She always saw baths as a thing of bathing in her own filth and she deemed it unproductive. I figured that a bath is probably better to take when you're sick, so I let her have her experience. “Kacey, I’m here.”, I yelled. There was no response. I figured she couldn’t hear me over the water so I sat in my usual spot on the couch and waited.
3:15…
I wake up to the sound of running water. For a second I’m struck with confusion as to where I am but then I remember. Kacey. I rush upstairs and I gently knock on the door. No response. It was only then that I realized that my socks were wet and that I was standing in a giant puddle of water. I knock on the door harder this time and realize that it's open. “Kacey, what’s going on and why is the floor all-”. Something I don’t think we realize is the color and consistency of blood, primarily because it constantly remains within our bodies. But when we see in its truest form in the open, it’s a shock to our system. Her blood clings to my navy blue sweats. The very same pair she bought me for my birthday. Amidst the red dyed water is a spark of silver. I look closer to see that it’s a razor blade. My mind goes blank and I follow my body to hers and grab her and hold her. I ask. I plead. I demand for her to breath. I beg her to cry, or scream, or gasp. Any resemblance of life, is all I ask from her.. The spark and flecks of gold in her eyes, the same onesI fell in love with, are dim and filled with grey. Her hands are cold to the touch and her dirty blond hair is soaking wet. I yell. Not to anyone in particular. Just the universe I guess. I yell, I yell, I yell and no answer. I drag her lifeless body out of the bath and I press her head to my chest. Her arms are bloodied and bruised, covered in scars and cuts. My sobs are loud and intrusive and they break the quiet that she so desperately hated. My phone is downstairs and going to get it would mean leaving her alone. I hover my hand over her mouth. Nothing. No evidence of the person I loved. Just a corpse. A beautiful, broken, dead corpse. There’s nothing I can do except sit and hold her, so I do. I hold her and tell her I love her with my whole soul, heart, and mind. As powerful as love is, one thing I’ve learned is that you can’t love someone back to life. But you can try. So I do. I will always try.
The Funeral…
It's always a surprise to get a peek into another part of a person’s life. You know the part that was outside of your little bubble with that person. The part that person hid away, or the part you just never bothered asking about. Apparently, Kacey lived a big life outside of the one she had with me. Whether I never asked about it or if she just hid it away is beyond me. There’s so many people here. Some I recognized from school, some of her family members I met before, and some I’ve never seen. All of these people that Kacey impacted or loved, all in the same place. I see herparents across the row of seats. Her father and I lock eyes and he gives me the slightest of approving head nods, while also wearing a face that says “I hate you”. Kacey’s father, Lewis Adams, was always a mystery to me. Whenever I’d come to their house, he would always be in his study, only emerging once or twice for a drink or a bathroom break. He never gave the “if you hurt my daughter, I will kill you” talk, though I don’t think he had to. Mr.Adams, while being a man on the older side, was incredibly big and muscular, and I think there was always a mutual agreement that if I did hurt his daughter in any way, that he would literally snap my neck. I believed he could do it too, so I just always stayed out of his way and was always respectful.
Kacey’s Mom on the other hand was a different story. A small woman with a big voice, Alisssa Adams was always incredibly kind and fond of me. I lock eyes with her as well and she smiles at me and nods. I look around. Everyone is in different stages of grief, yet they’re all still grieving. Then there’s me, in the center of my own little universe. Unaware of what to do, where to go, or who to turn to. There’s this anxiousness inside of me that I haven't felt since I started taking the medication. 3 different meds to take two times a day, just to keep me from losing my mind. Spiraling out of control is always a risk of existing for me. Then Kacey died, and I went full on spiral. I stopped taking my medication, I was angry all the time, I stopped eating. It’s only been 2 weeksand I’m already an emotional wreck. Love can make you whole but can also empty you out and tear you apart. I took my seat up front next to who I think is...was Kacey’s aunt. She notices me and gives me a sad smile. Kacey’s dad walks up to the podium and clears his throat. He's already got tears in his eyes. He looks out into the crowd longingly, waiting...perhaps looking for something or someone that would never arrive. You could just tell...you could see the want, the need, to have his daughter back.
He talked for only a few minutes, having to stop every now and then to wipe his tears. I couldn’t tell you anything he said as my brain fell down the rabbit hole of anxiety and fear...and grief. It’s almost my time to speak and my hands start to tremble. I feel bile rise in the back of my throat and I swallow it. If Mr.Adams already hates me I don't think it’d be a good look for me to puke in front of his daughter’s casket. At the end of his turn, Mr.Adams turns to me and gestures to the podium. I take a deep breath and gingerly walk to the podium. I grip the sides of it with one of my shaking hands, and use the other to take the eulogy out of my pocket. I stare out into the crowd. Now I know what Kacey’s dad was doing. He was looking for her. He was waiting for her to come running down that hill and take a seat in the back. He and I now have one thing in common: we’re both waiting for someone who will never come. I unfold my paper and begin:
“Kacey Adams. I met her in third grade. Back whengirls had fake disease and us boys couldn't even look at them without being socially outcasted. But even then I knew I loved her. Her pigtails and her gap in her teeth. And those eyes...God those eyes. You got lost in them. They would trap you and wouldn't let you go. As we grew up and being into girls became the status quo, I fell in love with her more and more, day by day. My love for her came in waves...no not just waves...storms. My love for Kacey came in storms. Intense and persistent. The only difference was that the love did not squander when the clouds went away. Even on good days, bright and sunny, not a cloud in sight my love for her pushed at my insides. It rumbled inside me, ready to be unleashed. Then the night of the Prom came and I asked her to go as friends. We got onto the dance floor and I said it right there. Kacey Adams I love you! I love you! I love you! A warm smile spread across her face. And then she looked at me with those beautiful traps of eyes and she said it back. She said it back and everything made sense. I kissed her. I kissed her softly but long and she allowed it. This one beautiful moment for the both of us, in the center of our own universe. This moment, five years in the making, finally came and it was just as good as I thought it would be, in fact it was better. That girl was magic. She could solve world hunger, save the whales, get rid of global warming, just with her smile. And now she’s...gone. I guess that’s the question: What do you do when the fairytale isover? What do you do when the Fairy
Godmother dies and the magic disappears? What do you do when the moon, stars and sky...the talking mice and living candlesticks cease to be? And you’re just left with nothing? Do you just find a new dream? Do you just conjure up a new world in your head? Or...do you let the remains of the prior dream carry you as far as they can? Kacey was my dream. She was my fairytale and honestly, I’m not ready to close this book. I’m not ready to wake up from this dream. I’m gonna let that last word from that very last chapter carry me as far as it can. Do with me what it must. I just can’t find a new dream yet. There will come a day when I can. When my alarm goes off and wakes me up and I’ll pursue something new. Until then though…” My voice cracks. Tears come down like waterfalls and I feel my knees start to buckle. “Take me away baby. Guide my dream. Let’s go to the farthest ends of the world, let’s ride out the storms, let’s be freakin hellraisers. Go and take me away.”
The storm hits and I collapse. I Hold onto the podium and I shrink. Kacey’s dad and what appears to be her uncle pick me up by my arms and help me to my seat. The minute I touch the chair, I get up and run. I book it to my car, get in, and lock the door. Something is welling up inside of me...something worse than anger...rage. Pure unfiltered rage. I slam on my steering wheel with closed fists for minutes at a time and scream every curse word under the sun. This is the worst part. The part thatcomes after the dream: Reality. The real world comes knocking and forces you to face it. Tell you nothing will get better. And if you listen to it’s knocks long enough, you let it in and start to believe it’s lies. Yep that’s her… Reality. She’s calling me and you know what? I think I might just let her go to voicemail.
A Month After…
I stare at the tombstone with contempt. The roses I put there before were wilting, so I replaced them with the ones I bought the night before. After I ran from the funeral, I watched them bury Kacy from my car. I watched unable to move, or speak, or breath. I looked back at myself in the rearview mirror with red puffy eyes and instantly hated being alive. I stayed long after the service ended, knowing that the minute I drove home, all of this would be real. Unbenouced to me, Kacey’s father had also stayed. He walked over to my driver side window and tapped on it. I looked at him through foggy glass, and for some reason instantly filled with anger again. He beckoned me to open the door. He wore the face of a man who needed to talk. I got out and looked up at him while subtly puffing out my chest, suddenly needing to feel more powerful from this lack of control.
“I'm sorry for your loss Liam.” he uttered in a gravelly voice.
“I'm sorry for yours sir.” I replied.
He hugs me. Due to the height difference, his embrace almost lifts me off the ground but I accept it. We stood like that for a minute, but it's not uncomfortable. It's needed. For both sides. We separated and he pats my shoulder. I watch him wipe a tear from his face as hewalks away. I get back in the car and drive home. While on the highway, my mind wanders to the thought of simply letting go of the wheel. Letting the engine of my car take me where it wanted. My hands start to shake and I try my best to keep my eyes on the road and my mind out the gutter. Out of the dangerous place that leads to death. Out of the place Kacey’s mind took her and didn’t come back.
4 Months Later...
I got a call from Kacey’s mom. Her usually loud voice is quiet but hopeful. Hope. The very word that was foriegn to me for months, now doesn’t seem so far away. She explains that she finally mustered the courage and the closure to clear out Kacey’s room. She says that she wanted me to come over and see if there is anything of Kacey’s that I want before all her stuff is gone. I don’t have the heart to turn down her offer. When I get to the house, it’s Kacey’s father that opens the door. He looks at me, gives me a nod of approval, and lets me inside. Mrs.Adams gives me a hug. She walks me upstairs and opens Kacey’s door. I walk in the room and I’m transported to a different world. After all this time, her smell lingers in the air. It’s a mixture of cocoa butter and her tangy scented perfume. I walk over to her shelf. It has markers, even though she hated drawing, pens and pencils. It’s covered with books with dog-eared pages, from her attempts in stopping her favorite moments in time. I guess she didn't know moments in books last forever. Whenever I called her in the morning, she was always rushing to go somewhere. Shewould wake up at 7:00 and be out of the house by 7:10. Just enough time to brush her teeth and get dressed. She wouldn’t make her bed or eat breakfast, she would just leave. I don’t think she would always know where she was going. She would never get to school on time. She would always be rushing somewhere even though she never knew where she was going, she would get there before everyone else.
Maybe that’s why she’s gone; she knew where we all were heading and where we would all inevitably end up, she just wanted to get there before everyone else. Her death is confusing. If she was murdered then I could be furious at the person that killed her. If she died because her heart stopped, then I could be sad because her body wasn’t as strong as her spirit. But what happened to her, it wasn’t natural. I could imagine that it was painful, scary, and...quiet. She always hated quiet. No one destroyed her, she self-destructed. She did something so incredebly stupid and selfish and then she imploded. And I'm probably wrong, but after implosion stars become supernovas. I know that she wanted this, she wanted to be on the other side before me so...yeah she’s my supernova. I hate that she’s gone, but honestly if this had to happen, her being my supernova doesn’t sound that bad to me.
And wherever she is, I hope she got there quickly and I hope she
got there first.
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