I Was Born For Their Mistakes, Not For Love Chapter 08
The memorial service was held three days later.
Calling it a funeral almost felt too generous.
There was no cathedral, no giant flower arrangements, no polished slideshow celebrating my life.
My father refused to hold a public service. He said the kids were too young to be dragged through
something so heavy and suffocating.
But Maya wouldn’t back down.
“Nobody paid attention to Hazel when she was alive,” she said. “The least we can do now is give her a real goodbye.”
In the end, they compromised.
They rented a small private chapel at the funeral home.
The room was quiet and simple, with only a few rows of chairs and a framed photo of me placed at
the front.
Caleb chose the picture himself.
It was an old snapshot from middle school. My hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, and I wore a
faded white T-shirt that had clearly been washed too many times. I smiled shyly at the camera,
cautious like I wasn’t sure I was allowed to.
Caleb said it was the most honest photo of me ever taken.
“When Hazel smiled,” he said softly, “it looked like she had stars in her eyes.”
Not many people came.
Caleb stood in the front row holding my urn against his chest.
Maya cried so hard she couldn’t stand upright anymore, leaning against a relative for support.
Dad sat near the front with his back to everyone else!
His hair had turned completely white.
His shoulders were hunched so badly he looked decades older. One cigarette after another burned
between his fingers, though his hands shook so hard he could barely manage to light them.
Mom stood alone in the back corner wearing a black coat.
Her hair was neatly brushed, and she’d even put on makeup.
She wanted to send me off looking composed.
But her eyes ruined the illusion.
They were swollen nearly shut, bruised dark underneath like she hadn’t slept in days
When the service began, the officiant spoke gently about how young I was, how precious life was
how everyone should cherish the people they loved while they still could.
Then came the moment of silence.
The funeral home bells rang softly through the chapel.
I stood beside my own memorial portrait, looking down at all of them.
When the service ended, people slowly began filing out.
Caleb walked first with the urn in his arms while Maya stayed close beside him.
Dad followed behind them, stumbling slightly with every step.
Mom came last.
Like a shadow no one noticed anymore.
The cemetery sat on a hillside on the east side of town.
The grave had already been prepared.
It was small.
Just a narrow rectangle cut into the earth, with fresh dirt piled beside it, damp and dark from the recent digging.
Caleb crouched down carefully and lowered the urn into the ground like he was tucking a sleeping
child into bed.
“Hazel,” he whispered, voice shaking, “it’s not dark in there anymore. I put a little night-light in with you, okay? So don’t be scared.”
I stared at the white urn resting at the bottom of the
grave.
Then I watched as the dirt slowly covered it.
Maya collapsed against the headstone.
“Hazel… I’m so sorry…”
She repeated the words over and over until they dissolved into broken sobs.
The gravestone was finally set in place.
An entire life reduced to a single line carved into stone.
The sun began to set, stretching every shadow long across the cemetery hill.
By then, my spirit had almost completely faded.
I looked at them one last time.
I wanted to say something.
I wanted to tell Caleb not to blame himself so much.
I wanted to tell Maya to take care of herself.
I wanted to tell Dad to stop smoking so much.
And Mom…
I wanted to tell her I didn’t hate her anymore.
But no sound came out.
Sunlight passed through my body.
I closed my eyes.
And then, at last, I disappeared into the wind.
