Avi
Her service was beautiful, exactly like she was. The church was filled with her favorite flower. The room had all of the people she knew and loved in life. Her photos where hung, her smiling face, reminding us of the joy she gave us. The box. The long box in the center of the room that contained her lifeless body. Haunted me. No matter what anyone said to, I just didn't understand how she could really be inside of it. Not Kirstie, not my precious angel.
No. Not her.
Kevin sang amazing grace, as Scott, Jeremy, Alex and I carry the casket out into the cemetery.
No. Not my Kirstie, this can't be her.
I have truly lost all of myself in losing her. If she isn't here, then how am I here?
No. Not her.
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I am numb. I feel nothing. I know nothing.
I enter my apartment, take off my suit and head directly into bed. I consider staying in this bed forever, that wouldn't be so bad...
Suddenly my whole body is consumed by my sobs. I am paralyzed here. I am lost at sea. I'm completely helpless. I have nothing left.
I cry myself  to sleep.
Avi's dream:
I enter my apartment like I would any other afternoon after work. After removing my coat and putting my bag away I enter my bedroom. In my room, sitting nicely on my bed was Kirstie. Scantily clad, Kirstie, in her bra and underwear wearing one of my dress shirts loosely over her shoulders. "Hello my dear." I say smoothly
"Hi," she giggled blushing. She wore a mischievous smirk and bit her bottom lip. She was irresistible...
"What are you doing here?" I asked
"Don't you want me here?" She pouted
"Of course, baby!" I say holding her chin, " you're just an unexpected surprise is all."
"I just thought I could help you relax after a long day of working." She said quietly. "Would you like that?" She asked pulling my tie towards her.
"You know I would..."  I pushed her back on the bed and, simply, had my way with her.
We made love. It was tender, and passionate and everything I've ever wanted.
I awoke in a cold sweat. Gasping desperately for air. I looked to the side of me, expecting to see Kirstie's bare body, but she wasn't there.
Where did she go? I got out of bed and into the kitchen for a glass of water. My attention was pulled to the table where an already wilting rose lay on top of a program from the Church. Kirstin Taylor Maldonado written across the front.
But that couldn't have happened. I just spent the night with Kirstie. That funeral must have been a freakish dream.
Kirstie's not dead.
Not my Kirstie.