A quiet Bianca who kept staring at Sophie’s casket as if she too was trying to bring her back to life. But we couldn’t. None of us could.
I could spend a lifetime wishing for it to happen; wishing for the last couple of months never to happen, but no matter what, even if I had to go through this pain all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing.
Sophie lived, cried, loved, and laughed, and she shone like the North Star.
Her parents asked me if I wanted to say something during her wake, but as much as I wanted to shout about how amazing she was, I couldn’t. The words were there, lodged in my throat, but none of them could come out.
So I refused, hating myself even more when an understanding of sorts passed over their faces. But I couldn’t talk about her as if she wasn’t here anymore, because she was.
Sophie would always live through us. In my heart, in the reflection of that ice at the rink, in her skates that still hung on the back of her bedroom door… She was in every ray of the sun and every raindrop that fell today.
I thought I saw her yesterday. I almost crashed my car when I pressed on the brakes in the middle of the busy street. Cars honked, people yelled at me, but when I tore open the door of my car and started running after the girl that looked exactly like her, something I didn’t think I would feel this soon blossomed inside my heart.
Hope.
Fucking hope, even though a rational part of my brain knew it couldn’t be possible.
And stopping that girl that wasn’t Sophie felt like heartbreak all over again. And every single song carried her soul in them. Every fucking day I woke up, rushing to get out of my bed to head over to her place, only to remember that she wasn’t there anymore.
She would never be there again.
And could one continue living when every single thing reminded you of that one person you lost? How could I eat and drink, and live and laugh, when she would never be able to do the same?
It felt wrong living my life, when she lost hers so young. It felt wrong moving forward, putting one foot in front of the other, without her hand in my hand.
We were supposed to do so many things together. We were supposed to conquer the world together. What was I supposed to do now, when I didn’t have a direction anymore?
She was my compass, and living without her felt like living in a world without a purpose.
“Noah,” my mom called out to me, and it took me a moment to realize that she was tugging at my hand.
“Sorry, Mom.” I shook my head, trying to get rid of the fog encompassing my entire being. “What did you say?”
She was worried for me—I could see it in every interaction we had, in the careful way she spoke about things. Not once did she mention my future or the time when I would have to leave for New York. I had unread messages and emails waiting for me to confirm my apartment, to confirm my classes, but I couldn’t find it in myself to do any of those.
“I am going to go with Davina, okay?” I looked over her head at Sophie’s mom staring blankly at one spot, and Andy and Sophie’s dad holding her on both sides. If anybody ever asked you what devastation looked like, this was it.
Mrs. Anderson was always cheerful, always so full of life; just like Sophie. But this hollow, dark version of her was the complete opposite of who she usually was.
People often spoke about healing and the fact that with time, even the most painful experiences would turn into dust; I didn’t believe them.
Those dark circles barely hidden by makeup, and the loss of life surrounding us were not things that could heal with time.
“Does it ever stop hurting, Mom?” I asked and looked down at her. Tears were already gathering in her red-rimmed eyes, and I knew she loved Sophie as if she was her own daughter. “Does it ever stop feeling like my soul is splitting?”
“I don’t know, darling,” she choked out and pressed her palm against my cheek. “I don’t know. I don’t think it ever does, but I do believe that it will become easier.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I do. She will always be here, Noah.” She pressed her other hand against my chest. “She will always live inside your heart, in all those beautiful memories you two made. And I think it will always hurt remembering all those beautiful times, but it will get better.”
Taking a deep breath, I looked up at the sky, at the pouring rain. My mom’s umbrella almost hit me in the nose, but it would’ve been a welcoming pain. At least it would be physical. It could be located.
It was as if somebody pulled my chest open and started scratching over my heart, making me bleed over and over again. It was as if my soul shattered that day when I woke up with her in my arms, only to realize that she wasn’t here anymore.
Her body was, but her soul was somewhere far away from here.
“Are you gonna be okay going home alone?”
