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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1407150-The-Funeral
Rated: E · Short Story · Death · #1407150
This is a story of a teenagers pain at the loss of his best freind due to a drunk driver.
The angry sun burned their skin as they sat waiting for the casket to be lowered into the ground. Even the thought that their best friend could have died that sudden in one fatal accident didn't seem possible.Yet there they were standing in front of a casket that held him in it.

The car accident wasn't even his fault. It was the idiot drunk driver's fault, and he lived. Why did he walk away with nothing but a scratch on him while Gordon died? Maybe, just maybe he feels the guilt driving hard into him. Maybe he will die of guilt now wouldn't that be great? He would still die because of that fatal night.

Remembering why he was there, the boy realized that he hadn't heard a word that the priest had said about his best freind. Anyways it's not like he was saying anything about him that he didn't already know, and in a couple of minutes and Gordon's body would be in the ground forever. A tear rolled down his cheek as he thought of his friend.

Please let him be in heaven God. Please, Please, Please, Please, Please...

The boy looked over at Gordon's parents and saw the painful tears that shook his mothers body while Gordon's dad held her tight, tears sliding down his face as well.

The funeral was finally over letting the mourners go and cry in quite or with a friend. Except for the parents. They would be taken care of by family members, family friends, and neighbors. They would be fed every night with quishes, pies, and other sympathy foods.

The boy walked over to Gordon's parents and was welcomed into their arms for a hug. His heart felt like it was breaking as the little group cried. Now more than ever they would need him. His adopted parents would never be the same again, but maybe he could help fill a hole that Gordon's death had left in their hearts. Maybe, just maybe.
© Copyright 2008 Cyndy Rex (writingforme at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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