From start to finish the day was a blur. It’s crazy how a day can commence normally, but within seconds it could change drastically and can have a major impact on your life. Like right now, it’s just an ordinary day, but in years to come, it could be your wedding anniversary or your child’s birthday, even the death day of a person you’re close to, even though today is just like any other.

For every birthday, my family always gets together to go out for dinner. The birthday boy or girl always picks where we get to eat. I decided that we should go to a new Italian restaurant that we hadn’t been to. My mom, brother, his girlfriend and I were the first to arrive. We sat down at the bar and waited for my aunt and uncle to show up. Ten minutes into waiting, my mother received a call from my aunt. Her voice raspy, and it sounded like she’d been crying. She apologized that they would be unable to make it because something had happened to Ryan. We ordered our food, ate in silence and waited for updates. It felt like hours before we had heard anything back.

When we pulled up, the line was already out the door and into the parking lot. I got out of the car and walked towards my family. I had completely drowned out the background noise; all I could hear was the clicking of my heels. Right when I walked up, I pulled my cousin into the biggest hug I could. Between us it was silent, but it was a comfortable silence. I could hear her heart crying out as if it had been broken in half. We stood in an embrace for what felt like a lot longer than it actually was. I slowly pulled away, her eyes were reds and puffy, and her cheeks stained with tears. Her short, brown hair framed her face with small strains stuck in her salty, dry tears. The swoosh of the wind echoed in my ears as the fresh smell of nature filled my nose. Her black dress laid in her lap perfectly, and her brown combat boots crossed at the ankles. We sat down, and I softly rubbed her back while she cried on my shoulder.

The line was out the door, but we waited anyway. I could already feel my feet start to ache beneath me. It felt as though cinder blocks had been attached to my feet; pulling me back as I tried to move forward. I stepped into the service room, and that was when everything started coming down on me. Seeing the slideshow of pictures and a table of his stuff is what triggered the tears. I went through the line and hugged each of his family members. I said things that anyone would say to a grieving family. After giving my condolences, I walked out of the service room. I heard the audible click of my heels with each step I took. His death was hard on everyone, but being at the funeral made it all seem real. I spotted the rest of my family members sitting on a bench nearby. I walked over to them and sat down. My cousin still had tears dripping down her cheeks. I sat next to her, and she rested her head on my shoulder, letting her tears fall onto my black shirt while I drew light circles onto her back in a comforting way.

They tried to make everything positive, but in this situation, it’s hard to not focus on the negative. Some of the students at his high school said some words about him. I didn't cry during the service, but one of the things the pastor said really hit me. There was a time that he and Ryan were running. As Ryan ran ahead, he turned to him and said, “I’ll wait for you at the finish line, I promise.” As he finished with that story, he said, “When my journey is up, and I have finished my race, I hope he will be waiting at my finish line, just as he promised.”

Following the service, there was a dinner that friends and family could go to. There was a table with an abundance of food that stretched across the room. I got in a line and picked out what I thought I would like. They had enough food to last a family years. I joined my family at the table they found. My cousin tapped my shoulder and pointed to a girl a couple of tables away. She said that was the reason he died, that she broke up with him right before. I don’t believe that she was the main reason, but he was already on the edge, and when she broke up with him, it was just the small reason he needed to end his own life. The church was filled with chuckles, chatter, and cheerfulness. It hadn't felt like we had all attended a funeral minutes before but we did. My family and I talked like we would on any normal day, and it looked like it was the same for everybody else in the room.

My cousin pulled me into the service room. In there, they had a tree where people could write memories they had of Ryan. It was the tree of his life. While my cousin wrote down one of her favorite memories, we talked. I walked around the tree and read what other people had written about him. There were all different kinds of stories. I sat on one of the chairs, and we talked about his cause of death, but we tried to make general rather than talking about him. I wish I had written something, a memory I had of Ryan, but you can’t change the past.

When we finished eating, we all hugged goodbye and shed our last tears for the day. We found his family, gave them our last condolences and walked out of the church. We strolled to the car in higher spirits than we did walking to the church.

I guess I had to accept the fact that he was gone. There was nothing I could do, nor could I change. When someone dies, you’re always going to wish you did something different, but I couldn’t dwindle on the past. Going to the funeral gave me closure. I felt like a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. I just had to move forward and accept that he is now in a better place.