It didn't happen the next morning.
It happened at lunch time. Whilst eating dinner at my desk my phone vibrates. "It's official. He's killed himself" then silence. Thoughts filled my head, why? Why why why? It would be this thought that would continually bring me to tears every time it sprung up in my head.
Yes, we hadn't seen him since teenage times, but still you wonder why. There were people there for him. Everything was to live for. He had a son!
And then poisonous accusations came about. "The truth will come out" one person promised. But still there was this terrible terrible loss.
Still feeling incredulous we attended the funeral. That's when it struck. This was real. He was really gone. No more smiley blonde Carl. Gone.
The whole church was in tears. As usual the vicar of this town did a great job at getting things wrong, but the rest was perfect. The fiancés pain though ripped through everyone in the vicinity. It echoed what we felt collectively.
The flowers were amazing. A racing car, a white truck, a broken heart and a pillow of flowers all laid peacefully beside him.
Despite being laid to rest, a convoy was organised the day after. A 100 cars congregated to do a 50 mile per hour journey to the coast where further speeches were made and Chinese lanterns were let off (rather unsuccessfully) as the night crept in.
All this in memory of a lad that will greatly be missed. We might not have been in your life for a while but we were still touched by you. We were still here for you. Whatever the reason you decided to do this, I hope that it's not in vain.
We will miss you. We will always miss you.
