Our Final Goodbye

My sister passed out the markers and balloons. We wrote our love notes to Ariana, scribbling all over them. "Ready. One, two, three...go!!" I shouted. We released the balloons. They floated up and faded into the skyline.

It was a gesture of closure, a ritual to help ease the heart, and yet, there was a large part of me that wanted so badly to believe Ariana would see the balloons. I imagined she caught them and read our final goodbyes. I wanted her to smile because of me one more time. Then I thought how painful it was for her to read our broken words, and I could only picture her weeping, her tears falling onto the balloons, smudging the marker, and erasing our words.

"Com'n." my friend gesturing to us. I shook the images from my head and followed after him. He was carrying a large flower arrangement from the funeral onto the pier. The wind whipped cold droplets of water at our faces. The further down the pier we went, the harder and more frequent we were hit. Arriving near the end of the pier, my friend flung the flowers into the lake. A Viking Funeral. Sorta.

We watched with anticipation for the water to swallow the flowers and push them out beyond our eyeline.

We waited.
And waited.
And waited.

Nothing.

Suddenly the sun broke through the clouds, illuminating one small section of water. The waves continued to crash into the rocks, sending a cold mist onto our skin and clothes.

We spent a few more moments fixated, watching and waiting. The waves pushed, but the flowers remained—not swallowed, not moving, only stuck in place. When our faces had taken enough of the cold wet air, we ran back to shore.

The day was beautiful, and the sendoff was meaningful. It was the ideal way to celebrate her life. I felt full and content. I watched the love she gave to her friends and family return to her. So, out of tears and out of energy, we all went to our cars and left.

I headed home, tired. After a short nap on the couch and a quick meal, I went to bed. That night, I fell asleep with a smile on my face, only to wake up to a very different morning.

Within seconds of opening my eyes, I was overwhelmed with hopelessness and brokenness. My heart yearned for my friend. My breath stammered as I whispered our song. My mind was soaked in memories of when we were young.

We were playful.
Carefree.
Whole.

"Thank you, Ariana. For everything. And thank you for this moment and for allowing me to share your pain. Today, I feel so unbelievably alone. I don't want to be alone. And I hate myself for it. For all of it." I cried out to her.

I felt weak and pathetic. Not too long ago, Ariana and I had a conversation about this, about her death and what my life would be after she was gone.

"I want you to move on, CJ. I don't want you to be alone. You should be with someone after I'm gone." she said.
"I can't. How could I? I don't even want to think about it."
"You need to find someone. I don't care who it is. I want you to be okay moving on. CJ, can I help you find someone if you want?"
"What? Are you fucking kidding me? No,” I said, nauseated, holding my stomach in my hands.

But that is who she was - always thinking of me and others. She was my protector. I don’t know who I am without her, but I do know she left the best parts of herself in me.

So, I continue on and move forward in my grief.