I wrote "For Maisie" for English 325, which focused on personal essay writing. The story is about the grief and regret I felt after a girl that I went to high school with passed away. She was friends with many of my friends, but the two of us were never close and I regretted not getting closer with her. In this essay, I played with the formation of my essay itself, making the sections shorter and shorter to mimic thinking about her less and less as time went on. 

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For Maisie

            “No, not my best friend, no.” I was still half asleep on Marisa’s couch when I heard Delaney’s sobbing voice cut through the morning. “This can’t be true. Not my best friend.”
            I remember my heart dropping, wondering what had happened. I remember very selfishly thinking, hoping it was someone she had met over the summer, someone I didn’t know.
            Marisa walked out of her room, where Delaney was still sobbing and I sat up. “What happened?” my voice shook as I asked.
            “Last night Maisie passed away.”
            I just sat for a minute, shocked, paralyzed. Marisa left to go get Delaney some water.
            I got up to call Quinn, my boyfriend, and tell him what was happening. He was closer with her than I was. He should know.
            His phone went to voicemail. I knew he was probably still sleeping, but I tried calling again, hoping the sound on his phone was on, or at least the vibrate, hoping he would hear and wake up and answer. But no. I sent him a text. “I really need to talk to you. Please wake up.”
            After about half a minute, I decided to call again. I’m not sure why I was so desperate to get him on the phone, but I just felt an irrational need to let him know what was happening, or at least to just talk to him and hear his voice.
            I called again and again. I lost count of how many times I actually called.
            “Hello?” he finally answered.
            “Quinn. You’re finally up. I need to tell you something.”
            “What?” he asked, suspicion in his voice.
            “Last night- um, well- last night- I’m not sure if I can say this.”
            Emily chimed in, “Do you want me to tell him?” I just nodded. Emily took the phone and just very bluntly said, “Maisie is dead.”
            I took the phone back. “Sorry.”
            “It’s okay. I thought you had done something last night after I left Marisa’s.”
            I couldn’t get mad at him for assuming that, not now. I was too numb.
            “Do you want to come back over here? I could come get you,” I tell him. “Everyone is still here, so you could just come be with everyone.”
            “Sure. I’ll see you soon.”
            I left Marisa’s, letting her know I would be back soon, and drove to Quinn’s house. I called to let him know I was there and he came out and got into my car.
            “Hi,” I was suddenly unsure of myself, not positive how to act in this situation. What do you do when someone you know but who is closer with your friends dies? How do you act? I knew I was sad, but those around me had more of a right to grieve.
            Quinn tried his best to give me a hug from the passenger seat. “Wait.” He suddenly froze. “Kat. She isn’t at Marisa’s. She’s probably devastated.”
            “Oh no. Should we go over there and see if she’s ok?” Kat was another friend who was extremely close to Maisie. In fact, sometimes I even wondered if they were closer than they let on.
            “Let’s go.”
            I turned my car the other way out of Quinn’s subdivision and headed into town, where Kat lived. We pulled up to her house and sat there for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. Quinn opened his door first and I followed, letting him take the lead as we walked to the house and knocked. Eric, Kat’s brother, opened the door.
            “We just wanted to come check on Kat,” Quinn said. Eric lead us into their kitchen, where Kat sat at their table. I remember standing there, awkwardly, not knowing how to proceed. All the words that came to mind just felt empty and useless. Quinn did most of the talking, asking if there was anything we could do, expressing his condolences. I mostly just nodded along and agreed with him. I wanted to help but was unsure of what to do, unsure if there was anything I could do.
            Our visit was brief and we went back to Marisa’s, where breakfast was ready and waiting for us. The remains of last night’s New Year’s Eve party were still everywhere. Empty sparkling cider glasses and noise makers were strewn around the room and fancy clothes lay on top of suitcases were they were thrown after changing into pajamas. No one seemed too concerned with cleaning any of it up just yet. We all sat, eating breakfast, each of us in our own state of shock.
            My mom told me she wants us (my brother and myself) home by noon, so we began packing our things up and getting ready to go. As we left, there were hugs all around and the sentiment was “we’ll all get through this together.” I couldn’t help thinking that I didn’t belong in that “we.”

 *****

            The next day I posted a picture of her in our winterguard show from the previous year on Facebook. With it I said, “We weren't the closest people ever, but you were still my sister. You were a beautiful and amazing person and you always have a smile on your face. You touched the lives of so many, more than you probably realize. You will be dearly missed by everyone whose lives have had the pleasure to be touched by you. Thank you for your amazing life. God gained a beautiful soul yesterday. R.I.P Maisie.” While it might not have been much, I needed to say something, to acknowledge her life.
            I didn’t even realize at the time that I said “have a smile” instead of “had”. While I may not have known her that well, I feel like that’s still true. I do believe in some sort of heaven, and I’m sure she’s there, still smiling. 
            The picture shows Maisie standing proudly on the corner of our winterguard floor. She’s standing in the back corner as if it were center stage, her curly blond hair untamed by the efforts of hairspray to hold it down. We all started the show in the back corner, but she’s at the very back, since she was taller than all of us, even the one guy that did guard that year. She almost looks like a queen, looking over her subjects in what seems like a noble manner. 
            Everyone was changing their profile pictures to a picture of the two of them together. I didn’t have a picture of just the two of us, so I changed mine to a group shot, four of us wearing fancy clothes for Well-Dressed Wednesday. Marisa stood between Maisie and myself. I didn’t even have a picture of me next to her. I felt a deep sense of loss, not having a picture. For some reason this seemed like I was missing something, missing a way to celebrate her life. It was just another reminder of what I had ultimately missed out on- a chance to get to know someone. 

 *****

            

            Just two days later it was time to get ready for the funeral. Everything seemed to get put together so quickly. I hadn’t been to a funeral since my grandpa died and I just didn’t know what to expect.
            While I was getting ready, Marisa texted me to let me know a bunch of them were getting there early to sit in the front. She told me that I should have a seat in the front, since I was part of winterguard with Maisie. Somehow, however, that didn’t seem right. Someone else should have that seat, someone who deserved it more. Instead, I sat near the middle with my mom, brother, and Quinn. Our winterguard coaches sat in front of us, so it seemed like the right choice.
            As the ceremony began, the man standing in front began talking about how he could feel Maisie’s spirit there with him. “I know she was a marching band person and, as I’m standing up here, I’m suddenly thinking that I shouldn’t lock my knees. That’s her, telling me that.”
            I believed him, even though it might be naive. She was there. The funeral went on in a blur and, suddenly, they’re inviting friends of Maisie’s to speak. Delaney went first, talking about how they used to stay on the phone forever talking after school, how close they’ve been forever. Next Josh, Maisie’s ex-boyfriend and good friend, spoke. Many of us thought they were going to get back together someday and, as he spoke, he revealed that he thought so as well.
            This is when the tears started to come. Hearing the stories of those who were close to her, who weren’t sure what to do without her, that is what made me finally cry. The emotion behind these stories just pushed me over the edge, along with the realization that these were the memories I would never have a chance to create. It was too late. My mom passed me a tissue, holding onto her own as well.
            The man finally got back up front and ended the funeral. We were all expected to wait in a line and walk by the open casket on our way out. The idea of it freaked me out and I wasn’t sure how to handle it, but there was no way out, so I just waited.
            While we waited, I chatted about Maisie with the people around me. “Remember when she hit herself in the face with her pole at winterguard practice?” Sean, one of my coaches asked. “Her nose was bleeding so badly.”
            “Yeah, I remember you almost passing out because of all the blood,” another coach, Jenny, quipped back. We laughed about it and the laughing felt good. Maisie was such a great person, she deserved to be remembered this way, with laughter.

*****

            Going back to school Monday was weird. Maisie had been in two of my classes and, in each, the principal came and talked to the class about it. Everyone was silent while he talked and offered his condolences and support. Mrs. Plunkett, our math teacher, told us she wasn’t sure how to handle the situation because she had never had someone who was in one of her classes at the time pass away. We kept going, even though it was hard. But the hardest thing was going to winterguard practice that night. Our show was to the song “Into the West” and was already loosely based on the idea of death and the transition from dying into some sort of happiness and peace after death. Now, of course, we had two issues with the show. The first was, logistically, we had a hole where Maisie used to be. The second, more obvious issue was the fact that everyone was emotionally affected by what had happened.
            Practice started with a talk from the coaches.
            “Obviously everyone is upset over what happened,” Sean began. “We’ve discussed it and we’ve decided to change the name of the show to ‘For Maisie.’ We think it’s a good tribute to her.” There were plenty of nods and sad smiles all around. Everyone agreed. Our show would be a tribute to Maisie. 

 *****

            At our first performance, we found out that our coaches had forgotten to change the number of people in our group on the official website. When we got our bracelets (like the ones that you get for water parks) that get us into the competition, we had an extra for Maisie. Sean decided to put the bracelet on the center of the floor in the front while we performed, to remind us why we were there. Before the show, we listened to “Little Talks” by Of Monsters and Men, a song Maisie had sung in the school talent show earlier that year.
            Everyone cried during the first performance. Many members, including Delaney, came off the floor balling. I had some tears in my eyes, but I was nowhere near as bad as they were.
            When we talked to the judge, he commented on how emotional the show clearly was for all of us. I felt like an imposter, feeling sad but being lumped into the group who was devastated. 

*****

Later in the season, we added fake orange flowers to our show. Orange was Maisie’s favorite color and it just added a special touch. Everyone began the show with a flower in their hand and placed them, like a memorial on a grave, on one corner of the floor at the beginning of the show. It added something visual for the audience and was another reminder for us of what the show was about and why were were performing. 
We still listened to “Little Talks” before every show, still put the extra bracelet on the floor. These little things brought us together for Maisie. 

*****

            The week before our last competition, we put on a friends and family performance at our high school. We did our show last, after the winter drumline, a solo and duet flag performance, and the middle school winterguard. Maisie’s family came to see the performance. This meant that this performance wasn’t just for Maisie. It was for them too. 
            After the performance, we gave her crying family a bouquet of flowers. It wasn’t much, but it was a token of how we felt about her. We were a family ourselves, and she was one of our own. If only I had known her better, had really treated her like a sister. 

*****

            At the end of the season was state finals. It was the last time we would perform this show. Before we went on, Sean pulled us all into a huddle. “You all know why we’re here,” he said, holding up Maisie’s state finals bracelet. “Go out there and do what you’ve been practicing. Do it for yourselves and do it for Maisie.” 
            That day I poured everything out onto that floor. The feelings of sadness, phoniness, regret. All left there for Maisie.

*****

            In the spring I sat in my car, waiting for my brother to be done with marching band practice. I was fighting with Quinn and extremely frustrated because Andrew was taking what seemed like forever. As I sat there listening to the radio and fuming, “Little Talks” came on the radio. In that moment, it was like Maisie was trying to calm me down and tell me everything was going to be okay. That might sound crazy, but that’s what it seemed like to me. I just about cried as I once again felt regret from never getting to know her more and repulsion at myself for using her memory to make myself feel better. 

*****

            As I left for my freshman year of college, I packed that plastic orange flower from our winterguard show. As I unpacked, I put it on my shelf, next to a little pillow that everyone in that show had signed. It was up high and off to the side, so I didn’t see it all the time, but when I did I felt all those feelings again. The sadness, the regret, but also something else. A sort of happy feeling, like that flower was her watching over me. Every time, however, that happy feeling fades. I didn’t even know her favorite color was orange until we got the flowers. Such a little detail seems so important now. 

*****

            I still have that flower in my room now two years later. Any time I look at it, I think of her. Every now and then I’ll hear the song “Little Talks” and think of her. Around January 1st every year, I think of her. I will always live with this regret. It’s too late, there’s nothing I can do about it now except spend the time to get to know people, to become their friend. I will be forever trying to never have this experience again, for Maisie.