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In the churchyard people shake my hand and tell me they are sorry for my troubles. As if Kayla is a favourite handbag I’ve misplaced. Or an expensive watch that’s been broken.
‘How are you doing?’ people ask.
I answer them. But I honestly have no idea what I say. Maybe I lie and tell them that I’m okay. Or maybe I open my mouth and no sound comes out at all. I really don’t know.
I feel a hand on my back and someone guides me inside. Kayla’s coffin is in front of the altar. It’s white with shiny purple handles. I didn’t choose it. Gavin must have. There are photos of Kayla framed on top. There’s one of her on her last birthday. She’s smiling so brightly after getting a new phone she’d been pestering me about for ages. There’s another that must have been taken just days ago. She’s gaunt and pale but her blue eyes still sparkle and her personality shines through. Of course, there is one of her in her basketball gear, and she has a shiny medal around her neck. I haven’t seen most of these before. Aiden must have had them on his phone. I hope he’ll share the rest of his photos with me. I’d love to see them all.
Gavin shuffles into the seat beside me and the church begins to fill with people. It isn’t long before it’s heaving with friends and familyfrom both Dublin and Cork. I see the school principal and a lot, if not all, of the teachers. Kayla’s old teachers from primary school are here too. The students are all here in their uniform and sit to the side of the church to form the choir. They whisper among themselves as teenagers do. Some are crying. Some are simply talking and some look bored as if they’d rather be anywhere else. I doubt they realise I would most certainly rather be anywhere else too. Kayla’s close friends wear their regular clothes and are dotted among the congregation. Most sit with their parents in silence with their heads low and their hearts breaking.
Kayla’s favourite song begins and Gavin takes my hand and whispers, ‘It’s time to say goodbye.’
I close my eyes and think about the day I told Gavin he was going to be a father. I didn’t know then that I was giving him the most wonderful gift in the world and that our daughter would make us so incredibly happy for fifteen amazing years.
‘Hello,’ a shaky voice I recognise says. I open my eyes to find a very dapper Aiden in a fine tailored suit standing next to Kayla’s coffin with a piece of paper in his hand.
There’s some shushing and some coughing from the huge crowd crammed into every nook and cranny of the church. And then there is silence and I know all eyes are on Aiden.
‘My name is Aiden. I am… er… I was…’ Aiden says, before he pauses and clears his throat. He’s shaking but he’s doing well to hold back tears. ‘I am Aiden and Kaylaismy best friend. She’s asked me to read this letter to you all.’
Aiden shakes his head and lowers the page. This is too much for him. Too hard. His teary eyes find mine and I nod, encouraging him, letting him know without words that it’s okay to stutter or cry or evenfall completely apart, but he needs to read Kayla words. She trusted him. And no one else. She needs him now. She needs him one final time.
Aiden nods, and pulls himself a little straighter as he steps closer to her coffin.
‘Okay,’ he says. ‘This is from Kayla. They are her words.’
He takes a deep breath and begins.
As you know I can’t be with you all today. I’m a little busy being dead. Funeral humour – sorry. Anyway, because I can’t speak myself I’ve asked my best friend, Aiden, to read this to you all. Thank you, Aiden. Try to keep it together, man. Pretend this is English class and you’re after an A for public speaking. Mrs Quinn, if you’re here, I think you should give Aiden an A this year. This eulogy business is hard! I’m finding writing it tricky, I can’t imagine how hard it must be to stand in front of you all now and read it.
So, here goes…
When I found out that there was nothing more the doctors could do, I began to think about my funeral. Well, actually, that’s not exactly true. The first thing I did was cry and freak out. Because it just seemed so unfair that I had no control over my own life. But I slowly realised that I had control over my last goodbye. So, this might be a little long-winded or go off point, but please bear with me. It’s the very last time I’ll have a chance to speak to you all and I have a lot to say.
I know this is a little weird. People told me that writing your own eulogy is not what normal people do. You’re right, everyone, it’s not normal. But neither is dying at fifteen – yet here I am. And you know what I say? I say, fuck normal. Sorry, Father Clancy – I’m not sure if you’re allowed to curse in mass. Also, sorry, Aiden if reading that part out loud has just gotten you in trouble.
I bet right now my mam is blushing because I’ve just mortified her with my bad language in front of all these people. But if you look over at my mam I hope you see the black dress that she’s wearing – I know the one. It’s her pencil dress with a silver zip up the back. She likes it because it makes her look smart for her work meetings. But she doesn’t know that I like it too. But it’s not the dress, I like, it’s the way she feels when she’s wearing it. It’s her smart dress. My mam is smart – always. This dress just reminds her of that. I hope you’re feeling smart today, Mam. You’re the most amazing mother. You made me. Shaped me. Hugged me when I needed to feel you close. Corrected me and gave advice when I made silly mistakes, and most of all you taught me how to be loved and how to love. I’m so incredibly grateful for the gift of our relationship. Every kid should be lucky enough to have a mother like you. I love you.
Dad. Hey, you. Are you wearing your grey suit with your blue tie? I hope so. The blue brings out your eyes. The same eyes you gave to me. The same eyes that see me. Know me. Seem to understand me even when I don’t understand myself. Thank you for everything. Thank you for getting drunk when you were eighteen and sleeping with Mam. Again – apologies, Father Clancy! And Aiden. Oh, don’t try to play it cool, Aiden. I know you’re blushing. Sorry!
I love you, Dad. And Charlotte. And Molly. Little Molly. I adore you – do you know that? Do you know that you are the best little sister in the whole wide world? No one can sing Beyoncé like you. No one can hula-hoop like you. Or wear a tutu and a tiara quite like you. And no one can own a piece of my heart like you.
I’m so sorry I won’t be around as you grow up. I’m sorry that I won’t get to read the rest ofFantastic Mr Foxwith you. You have to keep reading it by yourself now. I know you can. The ending is sooo good.Trust me. Mr Fox had courage when he needed it most. Be like Foxy, my beautiful little sister. Find your strength.
Aiden. Oh, don’t look at me like that. Or at my wooden box like that. ’Cos I know that’s where you’re eyes are wandering to. We talked about this. We knew my time was up. Get your arse out there and get yourself a girlfriend. You’re a catch, just because you are my best friend and it would have been super weird to kiss you doesn’t mean I didn’t think about it. There I admit it. I will miss you. A lot. But I’m also expecting you to cop on and talk to Sarah in our science class to tell her you like her. Oh, and if Sarah is here… By the way, Aiden likes you. Oh, what, Aiden? I’ve just done you a favour, trust me. Sarah, take good care of him. He’s in need of a new best friend.
At this point, I want to say something really intelligent and profound to make my English teacher proud, although profound is a pretty big word so maybe I can get some points for effort with that. But, as it turns out, words don’t really matter in the end. I bet most of you have fallen asleep listening to this already. To be fair, I started writing this yesterday and I’ve come back after some sleep, drugs and jelly that was yellow and smelt like wee. Heads up – if you’re ever in hospital and they offer you jelly, don’t eat it.
So, all I really want to say is: live your best life. Live it every single day. Don’t make bucket lists you won’t stick to. Don’t feel you need to jump out of a plane or bungee jump into a canyon. If living your best life is simply going for a walk with your dog every day – do that. If living your best life is drinking white wine that you haven’t bothered to chill. Do that. Hug your family. When you’re finished telling your family how much they annoy you, be sure to tell them how much you love them, too. And every morning when you wake up, take a big, deep breath and be grateful for the air in your lungs. Don’t just be alive. Live. I did.
Aiden lowers the page as everyone claps and he bursts into tears and hurries down the centre aisle to slide into the seat beside his mother. Mary wraps her arms around him and cradles him close.
‘Thank you, Aiden,’ Father Clancy says, beginning the mass.
But I’m not listening. I run my hands over my favourite black dress – Kayla’s favourite – and I make a promise to my daughter to live.
FIFTY-SEVEN
CHARLOTTE
