My Creative Self

It was a good day for a funeral. In fact it was quite possibly the best day of the entire summer, the sun above in the endless blue sky beckoned at us, winking at us through the stained glass windows of the church. The breeze just right to take the stiffling heat out of the day without making it impossible to wear a hat. It was a good day for a funeral, I thought as I sat in the first pew head propped in my hand and gaze staring outside, only partially hearing the sermon dedicated in honor to the only man I'd ever loved in -that- way. The monotonous tone of the Priest going on about God calling his children back and the sniffling of friends and relatives I barely knew droned on behind me and I became transfixed on the large maple tree outside, a monument to life in the summer sunshine.

I jolted back to my senses as someone jabbed an elbow into my side, turning to instinctively glare at Megan who sat between myself and her mother, the teenager like a second sister to me giving me a pointed look before turning Her eyes towards the front of the church where the Priest stood staring at me. Had I really drifted off? No, no I hadn't I was just watching the tree outside. I shot Megan a confused look and She sighed, mouthing the words "Your turn." I froze for a moment before standing and smoothing my black dress, moving slowly towards the front of the church to address the congregation.

Adam and I had always joked about writing eulogies for each others funerals, performing them with a melodramatic flair that would scandalize our families and likely have us ex-communicated from the church. It seemed like eons ago since we'd last laughed together and I struggled to swallow a lump in my throat as I came to the microphone, clearing my throat, carefully unfolding the piece of paper I had supposedly written my thoughts down upon. The sheet lay in front of me; blank white page laughing at my lack of preparation. I stared at it then looked up over those congregated to honor the memory of Adam Michael Bowen, over his sister Megan and his mother and father, his grandparents who spoiled me like I was their second granddaughter, his aunts and uncles and cousins I had known since youth. I re-folded the sham of a prepared speech and cleared my throat again. I told him I'd wing it, and wing it I did. My voice surprisingly calm and clear, void of the shaky threat of tears unlike the previous speakers before me.

"We met the first year of kindergarten." I shared, my voice soft with the memory. "He told me that he liked my coat, and well, that was it we were stuck together like glue." My voice trailed off as I tried to find my tangent. "Adam taught me many things over the years, he always bragged about being the older and smarter one, even if it was only by a week and a half. He taught me that beauty need only be a whisper, that you should always buy Boardwalk in Monopoly.... and that the world is a fragile thing. What do you say when you lose someone you have known your entire life? How do you sum up the years of memories in a few sentences? We each have them, some shared, some private. Take a moment to treasure them and keep them close and he'll never be far from our thoughts." It was short and sweet and I slowly slipped away from the microphone and back towards my seat, some of the congregation clapping politely. I stopped as I passed by Adam's parents again, his mother reaching out to grab my hand. No words needed to be spoken, all it took was a look. I squeezed her hand and smiled and returned to my seat next to Megan.

After the funeral many people hung back for refreshments in the basement. I clung to a wall, a glass of watered down orange kool-aid in hand and otherwise untouched, there just for decoration. I'd smile and nod politely to family members that came by and shared condolences, most assuming I was a part of the immediate family or perhaps Adams girlfriend, both partial truths. I hadn't expected her to show up today when I heard her silky smooth voice next to my ear, hand moving to grab the orange drink away from me.

"It's an awful day for a funeral isn't it. Not a grey cloud in the sky and the bloody sun is shining!" I looked her over, hardly dressed appropriately for a funeral, she wore a black skirt that floated like a shadow around her ankles, shirt made of a sort of sparkly see through material that let you know she was obviously wearing a black lacy bra underneath. Trust Willow to be the scandalous one of the two of us. I must of pulled a face at her because she laughed, the sound touchable, before downing my kool-aid and handing the empty glass back. "It's true and you know it. Come on now Robyn, you know this is my kind of party. Are you going to let me out?"

I scowled at her, feeling the fresh heat of anger start to boil in my blood. I couldn't get rid of her, she followed me everywhere, always wanting to be let out. The last time I had let her out to 'play' Adam had died... and I had survived. I flinched at the memory of glass shattering inwards that flashed through my mind and instantly blocked it. It was her fault. "Go away Willow, I don't want you anywhere near me."

Willow laughed. "You can't get rid of me Robyn. You need me."

"I need you like I need a hole in the head." I muttered venemously under my breath, just as Adams paternal grandparents came by, his grandmother giving me a startled look. I tried to smile but failed miserably and resumed scowling. Willow was always getting me into trouble like that. "Leave me alone. You're trouble. I don't need you, it's your fault that he's dead. It's all your fucking fault." The caustic words were mumbled under my breath, I knew she was still there, I knew she could hear me. I didn't see Megan slide up next to me, her expression clearly worried.

"Robyn are you alright?"

I sighed. "Yea I'm fine, why?"

"You're talking to yourself."

I stared at her.

"Come on," she added, wrapping one arm around my shoulder and pulling me away from the wall. "Let's get you a fresh drink and get out of here."

I followed after her and never looked back.