Love you, bye

I surprisingly did not want Cory's service to end.  I had gone from complete freak out mood at home while getting ready to go to sitting up tall and proud, sending out waves of love while I listened to people speak. 

I had planned her service down to the smallest detail, making it look, sound, and feel like Cory.  This was not to be a sermon based church event.  This was to be her day.  Hers. She thought no one liked her.  She thought she wasn't important. I wanted her to finally see the truth now that the voices had been silenced forever, and I wanted her life, her suffering and pain, to show others how strong she was, and how beautiful- inside and out.

 I never saw the pews packed and the chairs that were brought out to fill the aisles, but I heard later there were tons of people whose lives she had touched behind me as I got through it the only way I could- singing her songs under my breath, blowing kisses to the screen, and holding a reverent silence.  We could do anything together.  Even this.

The anxiety and foreboding that literally stilled my limbs at home while I tried to carry through with getting dressed and brushing my hair- inconceivable tasks that required physical assistance to accomplish- started up about two thirds of the way through.  I had the order of the service in my head, and when it was down to the last song- a recording of Cory with a friend and her cousin singing a hymn at church for the congregation, I felt the first flutterings of a panic that would soon rival anything I had ever experienced.  Never see her again?  Never?

I watched, still not crying, still not making a sound, as people were walked past her casket and down the aisle.  Time was so short.  I can't do this...I can't do this...Oh my God, please don't make me do this.  How do you willingly say goodbye to your heart?  And yes, Nicole Conklin, that's just what she was- the "central and innermost part" of my self, my ambitions, my life- and had been for nearly twenty years.

I knew that as compassionate and kind our funeral director, Mark, had been, there was one request he would not be able to accommodate.  My biggest concern had been being rushed at the end.  I've been to the funerals where the survivors are hurried along, where people have thrown themselves over the casket, where out of their mind distraught people have to be pulled away from the corpse.  That just wasn't how I wanted to say good-bye, and I thought somehow if I had some extra time...if I could say good-bye properly, I'd be able to take those unthinkable steps away, with the same strength Cory had showed, soldiering along day after day.

After everyone was gone, I went up with my mom to stand at Cory's side.  Time stood still, as I just looked down at my baby girl, unable to believe how beautiful she was.  It took my breath away.  I smoothed her hair, and kissed her- cheek, mouth, hand.  The cuts and scrapes, lumps and swelling stopped short, like a blown circuit as I refused to acknowledge them.  In my eyes, she was whole, the only part that gave me pause being the rigidity of her flesh.  I fought the urge to pick up her arm, or even her hand- perhaps illogically or perhaps logically- afraid if handled too much, she would simply fall apart before my eyes.  It was nearly impossible to reconcile my memories of her laid out on the road with the carefully reconstructed body that laid in that casket.

The kind woman in charge of switching out our necklaces approached, and with shaky hands, I fumbled off my dragonfly pendant, and watched, my stomach dropping as they only placed it around her neck, not fastening it, just placing it carefully to give the illusion of her wearing it.  What was that about?  Would her head fall off?  Is it only "placed" above her neck to give the illusion it is attached?  Horrible, soul wrenching thoughts that ran rampant.  I had to turn my back, and began shaking all over as I saw them lift her arm to remove one of her bracelets- her arm looking like a piece of wood or a mannequin's limb.  I began to feel faint, and allowed my mom to walk me back to the first pew to sit, as the tears started to come against my will.  This can't be happening...can't be...can't be...can't be...

Verbal nudging from the attendants.  "It's time."

Legs feeling like they would fold any second, I went back to my girl.  Touched her, kissed her, spoke into her ear.  The attendants stood respectfully at the end, watching me and waiting.  Time spun out, and I refused to budge an inch.  Finally Mark, whom I did not really know but nonetheless came to love with all of my heart in the last few days, spoke up gently, "Nicole, it's time, dear."

I tried.  I spoke earnestly down into her still face.  I kissed her a half a dozen times and stumbled away, feeling faint.  "I just need a minute.  I gotta sit down."

Back to the pew, rocking and covering my face with my hands.  Someone sat beside me- my mom, Tim?  I don't really know.  "They have to go now.  People are outside waiting to go to the cemetery."

Furious, I spat out, "FINE!!  FINE!!  Just do it, I'm never gonna walk away on my own."

"Okay."

As I looked up, they began to shut the lid, and I screamed desperately, "WAIT!!  WAIT!!  Just one more minute!"

The attendants measured my face, "Then we have to go."

"Okay, okay."

I ran to her, looking on her face that one last time, speaking her name, kissing her cold lips.  How do you say goodbye to your child, your best friend, your constant?  The same way you did the last time you spoke.

Mustering a cheery tone that surely didn't match the worst mental agony I have ever experienced, I trilled, "Love you, bye!"

I saw the lid lowered, full darkness obliterating her degree by degree, and my heart following suit, closing up tight bit by bit, becoming as black as the inside of Cory's casket.   I stumbled away, wanting to run, wanting to hide.  But we were on to the cemetery.  This nightmare would never end.