Page 147 of What Should Have Been Ours

The pastor stands before us, his voice steady yet warm, carrying the weight of grief and love in equal measure.

“Cameron Hayes was the kind of person who left an imprint on the world—not just through his kindness, but through the love he gave so freely. He was a healer in every sense of the word, not just in his career but in his life. He had a way of making people feel seen, of making them feel like they mattered, even in their darkest moments. He taught us what it means to cherish every second we have. To love with everything we are. To laugh, even when life is unfair. To be present, to be kind, not because it was easy, but because it was right.”

He pauses, looking around the room of weeping people.

“To those who knew him, Cameron wasn’t just a kind man. He was a light, a force of warmth and joy that made the world a little softer, a little brighter, a lot better just by being in it. And though his time here was far too short, the love he gave and the memories he left you with will never fade. Because love like that—it doesn’t disappear. It stays. It lingers in the spaces he once filled, in the lives he touched, in the people who will carry his love and kindness forward. Cameron may have left this world, but his love remains.”

The room is silent. Some wipe their eyes. Others bow their heads. I clutch the fabric of my dress in my lap, my breath trembling.

Then Wes stands.

He walks to the podium, his usual confidence tore down by grief, his hands gripping the wood as if it’s the only thing keeping him standing. He swallows hard as his eyes scan the crowd before settling on me for the briefest moment. Then, he clears his throat and speaks.

“My best friend used to tell me that life was too short to be so serious all the time. That we should laugh more. Love harder. Eat the damn cake.”

Small, teary laughs ripple through the room.

Wes smiles slightly, but it fades just as fast. “Cam was…a lot of things. Reckless. Stubborn. A pain in my ass—” he pauses, voice thick with emotion, “but he was also the best person I’ve ever known. He was the kind of guy who would show up for you, even if you didn’t ask. Even if you didn’t want him to. Because that’s who he was. That’s who he always was. And I know everyone in this room has a story like that. A moment when Cam made you laugh when you didn’t think you could. A moment when he showed up when no one else did. A moment when he made the world a little easier to bear. He had a heart bigger than anyone I’ve ever met. He gave more than he had, and he never asked for anything in return. He was the guy you wanted in your corner—whether it was in a fight, in a crisis, or just in life.”

He stops, looking back at me now. “And to Gabrielle…I don’t have the words for how much he loved you. But I promise, you were his everything. He never stopped talking about you. He never stopped looking at you like you were the best thing that ever happened to him. Even before I met you, I knew who you were because of the years he spent talking about the girl he fell in love with as a kid and never stopped. And if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that he at least left this world knowing he was loved back. That’s because of you.”

My chest tightens painfully, a sob caught in my throat.

Wes exhales shakily, gripping the podium tighter. “Cam, man…I miss you already. And I don’t know how the hell we’re supposed to do this without you. But I hope you know—you mattered. You mattered more than I ever knew how to say.”

His voice breaks, then he clears his throat and gives a small nod before stepping back down.

The silence stretches heavy across the room. Then, just as Wes finishes, someone unexpected stands.

A woman…with a little girl clutching her hand—Maya.

My breath catches as the little girl, no older than eight now, stands on a stool and grips the podium. She’s barely tall enough to see over the podium, so someone adjusts the mic for her, and she gives them a small, appreciative smile before turning to face the room.

She shifts on her feet, smoothing out the skirt of her dress before speaking. “Dr. Hayes was sick…just like me. He told me we would both get better soon, and even though he didn’t, I know he would be proud that I did. He told me one day I’d get to ring the bell just like he did when he was a kid.”

The room stills at that.

She glances at her mom, who gives her a reassuring nod, and she takes a deep breath before looking back at everyone. “Yesterday, I got to ring it.”

A quiet sob breaks through the crowd, everyone crying over this little girls words.

Maya’s lip wobbles, but she pushes through. “He always told me how brave I was. But I think he was brave too. He was the bravest person I knew. He was my favorite person.”

Her small fingers grip the edges of the podium a little tighter. “Dr. Hayes told me that even when things get scary, I had to keep fighting. He said bad days don’t last forever. That one day, I’d go home and be okay again.” She sniffs, her voice growing more uneven. “And now I’m home. And I am okay.”

She stops, her brows knitting together, like she’s trying so hard to be strong.

“And I just wanted to say…thank you.” Her voice cracks, but she keeps going. “For making me believe I could get better. For being my friend when I was stuck in the hospital. For always playing Uno with me when I was sad. For making the worst days not feel so bad.”

She swallows hard, blinking up at the ceiling, trying to keep herself from crying.

Such maturity in such a little girl. One who had to grow up faster because of what she went through.

“I miss you, Dr. Hayes.”

By the time she steps away from the podium, the room is wrecked.

Her mother wipes her eyes, placing a gentle hand on her daughter’s shoulder as she guides her back to her seat.