Set Apart

One of the things I hate about funerals is the lengthy mass.

By the time Aunt Hilda had finished saying her eulogy, which mainly was drowned in a puddle of tears, my head was aching.

My family had flown here just for this day, and I was somewhat glad. But I was nowhere near happy.

They had dropped the phrases I knew they would.

"Oh, honey, we are truly sorry. I hope you can forgive us."

My mom apologized after explaining the whole version of the accident, which I no longer needed.

I hugged her and Dad tightly and told them it was okay.

Kelsea also apologized, and I know I should be crying by now, but I was way beyond grieving for that and my cousin.

I was also grieving my own loss.

Trying to live every day without Kyle in it felt like eating poison that was slowly killing me bit by bit; it sucked.

I didn't break up with him. I needed time to think. But what I was doing wasn't thinking. I was torturing myself.

Kyle had become an essential part of me. Even before the acci