I splashed my face in the water, the coldness waking me up, if barely. Walking out of the bathroom, I looked down, not wanting to meet the sympathetic gazes, well-meaning as they were. Sitting down in a back pew, I was soon joined by my friends. The only one without red eyes was Andy, who, in his quiet way, was taking Bailey's death better than any of us. He was upset, no doubt, but better at dealing with it.

I think I was the one who took it the worst. Not violently, but instead quietly. Not Andy's quiet, but like the kind of quiet before a storm. Waiting for the full damage, knowing it could happen, but not quite seeing it yet.

A girl moved by us, then stopped. She backed up and knelt next to me, forcing me to meet her gaze.

I gasped. With the girl's steely blue eyes, blond-though dyed-hair cut into a bob, and a smattering of freckles on her nose, I had mistaken her for Bailey.

"I'm not my sister." She told me quietly, catching my expression. "She-Bailey-told me she was dying. Had cancer. I didn't believe her, didn't want to. I didn't want to care, either." The girl shook her head, "She sent these texts out to me and my mother, I-well, I didn't take it well. My mother was dad, of course, didn't get it. Bailey was apologizing for leaving. Me, us, her family. I idolized her. She was everything I wanted to be, but then she just...left." 

"When did she send the text?" I asked softly, suddenly realizing what had upset Bailey so long ago.

"A few months ago, or so. Then, a second one to me, around August. Telling me about her cancer. A third saying therapy wasn't working and she needed me. That was about five weeks ago, before she started chemo apparently."

"I remember her reaction to the first." I told her bitterly. 

The girl's face darkened slightly. "Can you blame me?"

"No," I answered honestly, "Forgiving is hard. Especially when you love the person."

She nodded as though she understood. "Well, I just wanted to say-" She whispered the last part in my ear. I nodded, taking the advice to heart.

"What did she say?" Pete asked me, leaning over Joe.

I opened his mouth to answer, but then the pastor stepped up to talk. The words he said went right through my ear. Instead of paying attention, I was looking around at the people. I figured Bailey wouldn't care about my not listening, seeing as how she was atheist. I wondered why her funeral was in a church in the first place, and I shook my head. Bailey probably would have a whole rant ready about this.

There were a couple people, scattered about. Brendon and the rest of Panic! were there, after meeting her at the party. Nurses and hospital staff-Mary was crying profusely. A few children who Bailey had met working at hospice with their parents, out for the day. A girl and her daughter I didn't recognize. A man in a soldier's uniform with his wife or girlfriend that I figured to be the man from Bailey's trip. Us. That was it. So few people for such a happy, energetic, open girl. It made me want to cry again.

Bailey deserved better.

The crowd stood up all at once, moving forward in a line to pay respects. Joe pulled on my shoulder gently and I stood, fiddling with my fedora.

We received strange looks from other people, but I ignored it. Bailey had specifically told us-maybe a little jokingly-that if she ever died and we showed up to her funeral in ties she'd strangle us. Therefore, we wore every day clothes, which meant a fedora, nerd glasses, and jeans for me.

It was her request, after all.

I moved up to the casket slowly, a little afraid. Sure enough, Bailey was coated in makeup. She had never worn any, and here she was, unrecognizable beneath it. It mad me angry to see how they had changed her. The only thing they did was not put her in a dress, going by her wish to be buried as we stood: In regular clothes.

"Bailey-" I choked. The guys moved around me, surrounding me. Their presence was comforting, and I felt better. I couldn't continue, not really knowing what to say.

Pete came behind me. "'Dying was a part of life." He helped quietly. "I sure wish it wasn't."

"Yeah, um, what he said." I muttered.

We laughed a little, the tension disappearing. "We love you, Bailey." Andy said. "Well, Patrick in a different way but still."

"Goodbye for now." I tipped my fedora to her and lead the group away.

If I had learned one thing from Bailey, it was that even the last goodbye wasn't the last goodbye.