Lines of dark wooden benches filled the church, with colorful light filtering through the stained glass windows. One showed Mary cradling Jesus in his arms, kissing his forehead gently. Another showed Jesus on the cross with a crown of thorns around his head. Thick red blood ran down his body from deep cuts all over him, dripping off his toes, but in an almost beautiful sort of way.

A sea of black bodies rippled in front of me, dark and inky and mysterious. Tears blurred my vision and I blinked them away as I tipped my head downwards. As time ticked by, most of the people who were there came up to us and murmured condolences. They hugged my family and whispered that it would be alright. A girl approached me and I recognized her only from her black sneakers. I only knew one person who would wear tennis shoes to a funeral. Looking up, I managed a weak smile but couldn't keep it up and it crumbled.

"Oh, Ems," Lilly said, enveloping me in a hug. "I'm so sorry."

I tried to speak but only a sob escaped my lips. My chest hurt - so, so much. I wrapped my arms around her and buried my face into her shoulder. Lilly stroked my long, brown hair.

"You are so strong," Lilly whispered into my ear and I felt a short sense of comfort before she had to let me go. Almost instantly I missed her warm touch. Lilly was my best friend, and she knew me better than anyone. Maybe even better than I knew myself, which was why we got along so well. She always knew how I was feeling. Always knew what I needed.

A few more minutes passed before the long, rectangular casket was rolled out. Mom ushered me and my brothers to the front row, where the casket was in clear sight. I almost couldn't stand to look at it because I knew who was in it.

When it reached the front, the coffin opened and a line formed with family in the front. Mom was first and she leaned down, tears streaming down her face. She kissed the person on his forehead, said a prayer before whispering something only she could hear. Then she left.

I was next. My breaths were shaky and my hands trembled as I looked over the wall of the casket.

Dad's mustache was neatly trimmed and his brown hair (which was the exact same shade of mine) was combed to the side. His eyes were shut and someone had put makeup on him to hide some acne scars he'd had for years. Dad's suit was ironed perfectly with no creases and his nails cut. He looked quite nice.

He looked so wrong.

Dad was a lively, energetic person who couldn't care less about what he looked like. His brown hair was always left wild and untamed (which Mom always complained about but we all knew that she secretly liked it) and he despised any sort of formal wear. He had always said that life was too short to force your feet into tight shoes and wear ties that would strangle you slowly.

I hated what they had done to him. He looked stiff and business-like, which he definitely wasn't. More tears formed and I wiped them away.

"I miss you, Dad," I said to him. "We all do." I couldn't think of anything else to say so I reached out and tousled his hair. Smudged the makeup on his cold, clammy skin. There. That was better. He looked more like himself now.

I paused. This was the last time I would ever see Dad again in person. Was there anything else I should say? Anything else I should do?

I stood there for another moment, taking him in for a second longer, before moving forward.

Everyone got a chance to look at Dad one last time and after that, a man clothed in white robes stepped up to the podium behind the casket. The priest. The colored windows bathed him in a soft pinkish glow and he began to talk. I should have paid attention but I zoned out, staring blankly at him without really listening.

What would happen after? How could life go on? Could life go on? Dad was the best person I'd ever met, and already, the world seemed a little bit dimmer without him.

Mom stood up, the long black dress brushing the floor and her blonde hair pinned tightly into an elegant bun. The dress had long lace sleeves that reached her wrists and she was wearing plain black heels. Her makeup was ruined by her tears and she took the priest's place, speaking clearly about the love of her life. I tried to pay attention respectfully, but I couldn't.

I don't know how much time passed before Mom stepped down and Lilly nudged me. "It's your turn," she whispered and I hurriedly stood up, focusing on not tripping over my ridiculous dress as I made my way to the podium. The dress was simple and it looked almost like the one Mom was wearing but she looked like a Greek goddess in it; I looked like a scrawny fourteen-year-old wrapped in a black towel from Goodwill. Which, I guess, I sort of was.

As my eyes swept over the crowd, my throat tightened. There were so many people... too many. I couldn't talk. I couldn't move. I discreetly wiped my sweaty hands onto my dress and my knees trembled. Anxiety boiled in my stomach and I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly as dry as the Sahara.

Then my eyes met Lilly's and she gave me an encouraging smile. I forced my shoulders to relax and opened my mouth. I had said these words at least a dozen times before. I could manage a five-minute eulogy without screwing up too badly.

"The earliest memory I have with Dad is at the park," I began. My voice was so small that I doubted even Mom could hear it and I cleared my throat, willing it to keep steady. "I'm three years old, and it's right after school at the swings. Dad's pushing me higher and higher. Mom is standing at the side, telling Dad that I really shouldn't be going so high but she's smiling anyway." I stared straight ahead, not trusting myself to look at the people without the words getting stuck in my throat.

"To Dad, family was always first priority. He would stay home from work if any of us even had a cough. He worked tirelessly to support his family of six and never gave up. Ever. He got me through some pretty hard times. When I was stuck in the dark, he was my flashlight and got me through the night." At my words, Lilly closed her eyes and clenched her fists so tightly that when she relaxed them, there were small red crescents on her palms. She knew what I was talking about. What I had gone through.

I continued like that for a few more minutes, occasionally glancing down at Mom. She had her arm around Max, my younger brother, and was smiling up at me with droplets glistening brightly in her eyes. Max had his face covered with his arms, quiet sobs wracking through his small body.

"There was this quote I read once," I said, forcing my voice to be steady. "'Without pain, we couldn't know joy.' It's from one of my favorite books that Dad bought me and I think it describes the human race perfectly. If we didn't hurt, we couldn't know what it was like to not hurt. The fact we can feel things like joy and pain and anger makes us human. And Dad -" I struggled to say the next words. "Dad was the most human of all."

There was a quiet silence and at first I was worried that I had messed up somehow. But when I glanced down at Lilly she gave me a sad smile.

You did great, she mouthed at me and smiled to reassure me.

A few more people came up to talk - Dad's best friend, a close coworker, and Grandma and Grandpa. Each one had tears in their eyes. Dad's friend, Rowan, shared a quick story - short but sad. Grandma produced a piece of paper and read out the words on it. It was a poem Dad had written in high school for English class and nearly everyone wept at that. Grandpa, always the most emotional one, could barely speak. Halfway through his speech about Dad he broke down and Grandma had to hand him a handkerchief to wipe away his tears. He tried again, but eventually Grandma had to help him down from the podium before he finished.

I rubbed my eyes, blinking hard and fast. Before I knew it, most of the people had left and only a few remained to watch the coffin get lowered into the ground. Lilly, being the amazing friend she was, stayed behind for me.

The immediate family got to toss a handful of dirt onto the casket. I didn't really understand the point of the tradition, but Mom had insisted.

Just before the dirt was dumped onto the coffin, the priest stood up and called up prayers to the heavens. When he was done, he looked right at us.

"We have lost a good man," he said, "but Heaven has gained an angel."