Love Always, Ella

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Patrick

The moment I walk through my front door I think it finally hits me that she's gone. It's eerily quiet because nobody is home. Ella's grandparents had invited me over to their house after the burial and we had dinner, although I couldn't eat. Her whole family was there, and we all shared different stories about Ella. I especially liked her grandfather's story. He told us about the two of them going to an amusement park back when Ella was ten and he convinced her to go on a rollercoaster. I never knew she was afraid of heights, but apparently she was, and he said she threw up when they were at the top of the ride, spraying everyone behind them. She probably never told me because it was embarrassing but God, it was funny. I laughed for the first time in a week when I pictured how awful the rest of that ride must have been. I miss her so much. As I'm standing in the entryway of my house it's like I suddenly can't find room to breathe.

I'm not sure why everything is hitting me now. Maybe it's because there's nothing left to do to mourn her. The funeral and the burial service are over with, and now all I have left is to think of her and all of the memories we've shared.

Removing the tie that's fastened around my neck, I let out a sigh and take a seat at the island of the kitchen. There's nothing left of her. All I have left to remember her by is the stupid pot of chicken noodle soup that's in our fridge. My mom asked me this morning if I wanted her to get rid of it and I literally tore the pot out of her hands. Her little note to me that was written so neatly in cursive is still taped exactly where she put it, and for whatever reason it's almost like she was still here if the pot was.

I take the piece of paper out of my pocket with my eulogy written on it and twirl it around in my fingertips to try and somehow savor it. I should probably put this somewhere safe, along with the note on the pot, but whenever I go to take the piece of tape off I can't do it. Her fingers put the tape there, and if I remove it it'll be like making her death that much more final. I'm not ready.

Wait.

Our fight on the beach slams into my head all at once, and that's when I remember the journal. Oh my god, how could I have forgotten that? She threw it at me and told me to read it, but after our fight I had tossed it somewhere in my room because I was too upset to even look at it. God, where did I put it?

I quickly slide off of the barstool and rush upstairs into my room, running my fingertips through my hair to try and remember where I put it. My comforter gets torn off my bed, my music albums gets pushed around, my desk gets cluttered, but it's nowhere to be found. If I lost the one thing that had any memory left of Ella I will never forgive myself. I just don't remember what I did with it because that night was such a blur. The only thing I remember is coming home, and when I got into my room I was about to pick up the phone to call her but my phone was dead, so I got my charger from the nightstand.

I rip open the handle of the drawer to my nightstand and reveal her journal. It's worn down brown leather, some pages being bent with little cracks here and there, and the smell of it being purely of her. It's almost like all of the breath has been taken right out of me as I look at it, trying everything I can not to cry right now. This was the most important thing to her, and she wanted me to read the first entry. I still can't believe it.

Sitting down onto the mattress of my bed, I go to open it but I can't. I can't open it because I remember the look on her face when she threw it at me. She didn't really want me to read it. Maybe that morning she did, but certainly not that night. The only reason she threw it at me was because she had given up. I don't deserve to read this.

_________

It's nine at night when I knock on her grandparents door and her mother answers in plaid pajama pants and a worn down t-shirt. It looks like she's been crying, and when she sees me she quickly wips underneath her eyes to get rid of even more tears.