Chapter nineteen – Paying Respects

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-One week later-

"Don't worry Michael, you'll be okay. And besides, you'll have me here to support you. I'll be by your side throughout the entire thing ... I promise."

My hand touches lightly upon his, only aiming to comfort him. It's the day that all his family and friends are buried, and it's all a little overwhelming for him. He's been thinking about it all week so far ... and to be honest, I don't blame him. It's such a huge thing with just one person, let alone everyone he's ever known and loved.

He nods, averting his eyes down in despair, "I hope so. I just can't believe I'm having to do this." He fiddles with the adorable white rose in his hands, fingering the fragile petals carefully, as not to break them.

At the moment, we're sitting on a bench outside, in the graveyard that his family's remains will be buried in. There's going to be a little service in a few moments, but the person running it hasn't arrived yet.

I take a moment to examine Michael's clothing. A few days back, the police came around with a large bag, which contained a whole load of clothing – his own, his brothers', his father's – the list goes on. Among it all, he found a few formal-looking items of clothing, which he's wearing right now.

He's got on a black tuxedo-type thing, with a matching black tie and black loafers; a white undershirt which matches the rose in his hand, and his hair tied loosely into a ponytail, a few stray curls hovering over his forehead like normal. If the occasion weren't so depressing, I would say he looks rather handsome.

As for me, I'm wearing a simple black dress – it's typical to wear black at this kind of thing – and there's a small white rose tucked into my hair, to match Michael's. The only difference is, he's saving his rose for later, whereas mine has no particular use at all.

This is the furthest away from my house that we've come in the time we've known each other. Granted, I've come out on my own further than this, but this is way further than Michael has been in the past few weeks. It must be such a change of scenery for him.

"I know," I sigh, rubbing his arm, "It must be a big deal for you. I understand that." My eyes glance over at the other various gravestones and memorial benches in the graveyard, "But ... I'm always here, and you should know that by now."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him nod, "I know. Thank you ... Citria ... for being here for me ... " His voice almost seems to strain towards the end of his sentence, but he composes himself once again, "Honestly ... thank you."

A tiny closed-mouth smile tugs at my lips, "You don't need to say thank you. It's more of a duty now, rather than a chore. Don't get me wrong, it's never been a chore ... I just mean, it makes me happy, knowing that you're happy."

"And that's exactly what I love about you," he states, only just above a whisper, "You're so selfless. All you ever do is think of others. I like that, Cit. More girls should be like you."

"Me?" I almost scoff, swatting the air in disbelief, "No, Michael. If every girl was like me, there would be a lot of problems in this world."

"Problems like what?" he challenges all of a sudden, "Because I fail to see any problems." His tone makes it difficult for me to tell whether he's just joking around with me, or whether he's being genuine and serious.

A tiny niggling feeling itches the back of my throat, so I clear it, buying myself some time to think of a decent reply. After I've thought of what to say, I speak out, "Well ... nobody's perfect, are they?" I question rhetorically, "So ... even the best people have flaws."

"Yeah, you're right," he agrees, "You're perfect to me, but you still have flaws – your main one being that you can't see how amazing you are from your own eyes ... because you are, you know. You're amazing to me."

My teeth gently bite at my bottom lip, to keep my mouth sealed so that I don't say something stupid as a reply. What could I possibly say to that? You know what? I'm going to return the compliment; put the focus on him rather than me.

"You're amazing too, Michael. You're the best friend a person could ever have ... and I don't think you realise that. Maybe that's your flaw, just like I have my flaw," I answer, feeling somewhat satisfied with my words.

He snickers softly, "Yeah well ... looks like we both got our flaws, don't we?" He then looks up, averting his eyes towards the entrance of the graveyard, "Oh, look – she's here," he states, pointing in the general direction of the opening gates.

As I look over, I see the person coming who will be conducting the little service. She has a serious yet inviting expression on her face, and is wearing a simple black gown and a little necklace with a religious cross pendant. Once she has reached us, she gives us sympathetic smiles.

"Good morning, Mr Jackson; Miss Espinosa. I'll he conducting the service today, if you remember?" she explains, her voice soft and warm, "Now, I understand it's quite a number of people we will be saying goodbye to today. That isn't a problem at all. We'll first bury the more distant relatives, then work our way down the list until we get to the family and friends you were more closely related to. Does that work for you?"

Michael nods in agreement, "Yes, of course. That sounds just fine."

* * *

So far, we've laid Michael's cousins, aunts and uncles to rest, and have his siblings, friends, parents and Astrix to do. When they were burying the cousins, Michael suggested leaving Astrix for later, and I'm not sure why. I believe he'll be buried next.

Michael has spoken briefly about each person, as their ashes are placed in the ground – almost like little eulogies. I've found it so sweet, what he's had to say about all these people. Some of the comments he's made have been lovely.

"Now, Michael, your cousin Astrix will be laid to rest," the priest – now known to be called Liza – informs him.

Michael swallows, watching as the little box of ashes is placed with the others, "Astrix ... even if we were sworn enemies, I'll miss you. And ... let's end our feud now, okay cousin? I forgive you for what you've done ... goodbye."

* * *

We have yet to bury Michael's parents and siblings, because Michael requested at the last second to keep a small amount of ashes from each person for himself. The priest has only just got back with the rest of the ashes that are to be buried, so now the family members are going to be laid to rest.

First is his brother Jackie, who Michael speaks of briefly, about their childhood together. Then comes Tito, Jermaine and Randy, who all get a similar kind of eulogy. Finally, out of the brothers, is Marlon. His eulogy is about the pranks they used to pull on one another.

The sisters come next, and each one gets a more personal speech. Rebbie is spoken about first, in which Michael admits that he wishes they were closer as siblings. Then comes LaToya, which Michael says something similar to what he said to Rebbie. Finally Janet ... Michael says that he'll try and pull a prank on me in her honour, which kind of scares me.

And finally ... his parents. These ones are going to be the hardest for him to do, I reckon. As his father's ashes are lowered into the ground, Michael exhales deeply, almost as if he's preparing himself; bracing himself.

"Dad ... I'm going to miss you, so much. I wish we could have spent more time together as father and son, but ... now it's too late. I'm never going to forget you, not ever. I love you ... goodbye ... "

And finally, his mother's ashes.

"Mother ... oh, mother ... you were perfection to me. Life without you is going to be so difficult. Of course, losing the rest of my family is just ... awful. But you, I think I'll feel the most pain for. I miss you so badly, but I guess I'll see you and the others in Heaven. Goodbye, mom ... I love you."

He clasps his hands over his mouth, tears forming thickly in his eyes as his mother's ashes are laid to rest with everyone else's. A tear escapes from each eye, before he looks at me for guidance. Without saying a word, my arms wrap around him, then as he comes closer to me, he tenses up more and more. He cries into my shoulder, his sobs muffled against my clothing.

"I'm sorry for your losses, Mr Jackson," Liza apologises one last time, "I wish you the best possible future. The remaining ashes will be in a little pot on the wall near the entrance gates. You can't miss them. Good day, you two." After receiving a "Thank you" from us both, she leaves the cemetery, leaving me and Michael alone in there.

It takes a good few minutes for Michael to stop crying fully. It seems to be all he does now ... but I don't blame him at all; having no one must be unimaginably difficult for him. But the main thing is, I'm here to support him, and I always will be here to support him.

"Michael ... " I call his name softly to comfort him, "Just think that they're finally being able to rest in peace," I assure him sweetly.

He pulls away from me, his face red from crying, "I know ... but I want them to come back," he frowns tearfully, kicking a rock on the ground, "That's all I really want in life."

In a friendly way, I pat his back, "I understand that, Michael, of course I do. That's kind of my thought with my mom; it would make my life complete if she came back, but ... now that I know she won't, well ... I'm having to accept it, and it's so hard. And it's the same with you, you know. But as hard as it seems, there are times when the pain isn't as bad, Michael. But when that pain comes to you, I'll be here for you ... just as long as you need it."

A small, faint smile tugs at his lips in appreciation, "I know ... thanks." He heaves a small sigh, "And I'll be here for you too, if you need it, Cit."

Balancing on my toes, I gently kiss his cheek as a "Thank you" for his support. This causes his faint smile to become slightly bigger, which makes me happy, too. Making Michael happy makes me feel like I've accomplished something – it's really quite hard to achieve that.

"Now," I start, averting my eyes down to the new grave, in which his family and friends are all buried now, "Do you want some alone time? I don't mind if you do," I offer, "It can allow you to say goodbye to your family and friends without anyone else interrupting or distracting you ... "

I begin to walk away, but then he pulls my arm to keep me in place, "Wait ... I don't mind. Stay ... please." He gives me a forlorn look, melting my heart slightly.

My body turns around to face the grave again, "Well ... okay then, if you're sure. But if you want me to go, then tell me. I'll find something to do whilst you say goodbye."

He looks at me, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, "What could you possibly do in a cemetery?" he asks, kneeling down by the area everyone is buried under, "Seriously?"

"Well ... my mom's grave is here too. I could go say hi to her ... " I answer softly, my eyes wandering over to the general area that mom's gravestone is located, "Hers is by the entrance gates; I'm surprised you didn't see it as we walked in here."

He shifts his gaze to the entrance gates, "Oh ... then go see her. Your mother is more important than me right now," he says kindly.

"But Michael, I need to stay here with you. You wanted me to stay remember?"

"I know ... that was before I found out your mother is here too. That, and ... before I saw the pain in your eyes from how much you miss her."

I give a puzzled look, "Hurt in my—what?" Confused, I look to Michael for guidance as to what he means, "Hurt in my eyes? Why would I have hurt in my eyes?"

"I can see it. Those eyes have lost their ... I don't know. They're not as bright as they normally are. You miss your mom ... I get that. I realise that's a huge assumption, but I think I'm right. Go see your mom, Citria. Go see her."

A sigh of defeat comes from my mouth, so I nod gently, "Okay, you win," I tell him quietly, before making my way over to mother's grave. Once I've reached her stone, I kneel down in front of it, "Hi, mom ... " I whisper, already feeling a huge feeling of grief in my stomach.

My fingers gently graze over the golden letters of mother's name, before my eyes avert downwards to the bottom of the stone, where it says: "To live in the hearts of those you love is not to die". Those words are really deep to me; I like to think mom is still here in my heart, like those words suggest.

"My God ... " I breathe, gently arranging the flowers surrounding her grave, "Look at this mess, mom. I'll sort it out for you." After moving a few flowers around, a small smile comes to my face, "There you go. Isn't that much better? You look presentable again now," I chuckle.

The next moments are filled with silence; I just want to take a little time to pay respect to mother. All I can hear now is the light breeze in my ears, which is making the trees rustle, as well as the birds chirping faintly around me. Apart from that, it's completely silent.

So many questions run through my head whenever I come here. For instance, what would mom be doing right now if she were here? Where would I be in life if she were around to see me? Would I have met Michael if she were still alive? The list goes on and on.

A little white butterfly flutters over to mom's gravestone, landing on the word "love" from the little sentence at the bottom of the stone. It bats its wings gently, before settling there, so I lean in closer to get a look at it. It's really beautiful, and just makes me think of mother – it's like a little sign from Heaven that she's doing okay ... a simple white butterfly.

Before I can even move another muscle, the butterfly starts to fly away, leaving me alone once more. My eyes remain fixed on my mom's name, Tiannah, as tears start to form in my eyes.

"My God, I miss you," I sigh.

"I know you miss her, Citria. That's why I'm here to help you."

I quickly turn my head to see Michael standing behind me, so I turn away to dry my tears, before looking back up at him, "You scared me, Michael."

A small smile forms on his face, "Sorry. But it's true ... I'll always be here to support you, you know. Always. In fact ... forever and a half. That's not going to change."

He kneels down by mother's grave next to me, placing one arm around me in a friendly way. He pulls my head into his chest, lightly kissing my forehead, "She would be so proud of you, you know. I don't doubt that for a second."

My eyes close, and a tear falls from each eye, "I like to think she's watching me now ... realising how much I miss her," I manage to answer, despite my voice giving out with each word I speak.

"Oh, she realises alright," Michael assures me, "And your dad must be so proud of you, too. He must be proud that you've not given up yet ... and that you never will give up. You're a fighter, Little Miss Espinosa."

I exhale out my mouth, it almost sounding like a slight laugh through my tears, "A fighter? I have no choice. And besides, you're more of a fighter than I'll ever be, Mr Jackson."

"I have no choice," he copies my words, "And besides ... you've been helping me. Without you, I would be nothing. It's all thanks to you."

"Don't thank me for doing what I would want someone to do for me," I respond quietly

"I can't help it. You've given me the world and expected nothing in return." He shrugs, before shifting his gaze to mother's grave stone.

Having no reply, I remain silent, and we both sit by mom's grave for a little while longer, simply paying our respects.

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Chapter nineteen fellas! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!