There’s a lot of people here. More than George thought there’d be. So many people he recognised, though they were a lot older than he recalled. May, William, Peter, MJ, that scumbag Phillip, some of Gwen’s friends he'd seen before but whose names he don't know and a few of his buddies from the department are here. Harry's not here, but he'd let them know he couldn't attend beforehand. That'd been a shame. There’re people he didn’t know too; so many new faces. It was comforting but saddening at the same time. And it just confirms George's fears and the one question that’d been swirling around in his mind for years. Just how much had he missed? There was no way to know. Helen kept telling him it’s not as bad as he was making it out to be, that he loved Gwen and she knew that. But George could see in her eyes she didn’t completely believe that herself. He spent years working overtime, missing things because he wanted to make the city a better, safer place. He knew it had slowly torn them apart, but he justified it to himself, telling himself over and over again that he’d make up the time. That eventually, he’d do enough to be able to relax and spend that time with his family. But now it was too late. He’d never be able to spend time with his little girl again. The thought alone was enough to crush his spirit.
If Gwen’s gone, then what was this all for? Nothing?
That couldn’t be right. But maybe it was. He let out a sigh, feeling his shoulders slump further. He didn’t know anymore. He felt like he didn’t know anything. Some nudged him. It was Helen. From the look on her face it was apparent she was trying to not cry. George probably looked similar.
“It’s us honey. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t feel up to it” she whispered softly. He looked up. It was quiet, everyone’s gazes fixed on him, their eyes filled with pity. Oh. He stood up slowly, the church bench creaking under his weight. Together they walked to the front, George clutching Helen’s hand tightly. Thank God she was here. He definitely wouldn’t have been able to do this without her. They came to a stop behind the podium, and he looked up at the crowd, before glancing at Helen.
She stepped forward, taking the lead. He felt a small amount of relief. Seriously this woman always knows what to do. Hopefully her courage could give him the confidence to read his speech without breaking down. He let out a breath and looked up. She was already speaking to the crowd. She was going to say a few words and then read Gwen’s favourite poem. George hadn’t even known she'd had own. God. He'd brought a speech. He'd never been any good at writing, but Helen had said it was perfect, that Gwen would’ve loved it. He could only pray that was true.
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“Do you want to read out what you’ve written hon?” Helen whispered, turning back to him. She’d already finished? That'd been fast. Or maybe he was just slower than usual today.
“I.. yeah” he replied. George stepped forward, fumbling for a few seconds before pulling out the paper. He unfolded it and placed it on the podium, his hands steady, but my mind racing. He looked over the words, reading them clearly but still unable to say anything. The crowd felt even bigger from up here. Helen put a hand on his back, calming his nerves.
“It’s alright. Take your time” she whispered softly. He clamped my eyes shut, wiping his sweat stained hands on trousers. It only took a few seconds for his mind to grow still, but in front of the crowd it feels like forever. Here went nothing.
“I… uh… I didn’t think I’d ever experience anything like today” he said. That’s not what he wrote. Screw it, he might as well talk before getting to the speech. “It’s been strange. I, uh… it’s comforting to see how many people cared for my little girl. I think I can only hope for half as many people at my funeral” I said to a small chuckle. I’m floundering. And making the speech about myself. This is her day you buffoon, say something about her.
“Gwen is… was amazing. Everybody here knows that; they felt it. She was a capable, and kind individual. Smart as a whip too. And I’m sure she did great things and would’ve done even greater if… if she were still here” he said, his voice raw and eyes teary. He hung his head, taking a moment of silence.
“I… uh… prepared a short speech for Gwen. I’ll read it now” George said, looking down at the crinkled sheet of paper.
“For as long as I can remember Gwen was a curious child. She was always us asking me “why?”. Why is the sky blue? Why is the grass green? Why are the clouds that way? By the time she was seven, I stopped being able to answer her questions. I think around that time is when we started to get a sense of just how smart my little girl was. Whenever she got an award or a participation trophy, and even when she didn’t, I was always proud of her. Proud of her passion, y’know? …God, I hope she knew that. I… just…” he paused and took a breath.
“In the past few days I’ve been asking myself the same question Gwen did. Why? Why did my little girl die? The truth is, I can’t answer that. No one can. What happened was a tragic senseless accident that none of us could’ve seen coming.
I think that’s what makes today so difficult. Knowing that an accident took my daughter’s life. Even though she’s in a better place now, it’ll be a while before we can see her again. It reminds me of when she went off to college. I thought Helen would be the one to worry, but I was a mess. I took the day off and spent all my time fretting over whether or not she was packed, when she was going, what time she needed to be at for where, I was worried about everything. I thought I’d kept my feelings hidden, but she’d noticed. She always did. She took my hand and with that beautiful smile of hers, my little girl told four words that eased my worries. Do you know what she said? She told me that ‘Everything would be ok’. I hope we can all try and remember her words for today too. Thank you for listening, and may God be with you all.”