As I step onto the grass, I can feel the sweat rickle down the back and nape of my neck. I look around the cemetery and wonder why I am here, why I even came in the first place. I know she died. I know she was my best friend too, but I don't want that to be real. Being here makes it real. I'm dressed in all black and I tried to hide the fact that I haven't stopped crying. I walk up to see my best friends family standing with a priest and a casket right out in front of them. Flowers cover the whole top of the casketr and more surround that. The sight of them makes me cry harder. Sandy, Chelsea's mom, pats my back and cries in unison with me. After the priest is finished praying, the casket begins to be lowered. One of the hardest things, next to having to go to French class, I've never in my life wanted to do, and here I am. I watch Chelsea be lowered farther and farther down and I drop to my knees. I really do not want to be here. As I am there I think back and remember the day i was told the news. I remember walking into the room and my mothers eyes were wet and her throat was welled with tears. As she told me that Chelsea killed herself and that services were in three days...The ringing of a bell brings me back to the present and I can't hardly breahte. I look up and there is a strange woman that I don't think that I have ever seen before, standing there. I can't see her face very well for it is covered with a black cloth. I look closer and realize that it was our French teacher, who turned out to be her step-aunt, at her funeral.
Why I'm Even Trying
March 4, 2009