Days like this by Gavin McNeill
A week had passed since that fateful day, the 28th of December; a week in which the shock and horror of the terrible tragedy had not yet sunk in. The morning of the memorial service had arrived, the service to commemorate the life of one of the greatest people I have ever met, or probably will ever meet. My friend, Craig Macritchie.
All I could think about while putting on my suit that morning was how much he was looking forward to the prom, when he would be wearing a suit. The formality seemed strange; it was something I did not associate with Craig. Our relationship had always been informal. Somehow I had always thought my first time wearing a suit would be a proud moment, one in which I would be smiling and getting my picture taken. The reality could not have been more different.
I remember being dropped off at the train station, where I met up with my friends. The service would be held in town, and we decided to go in together, so that we would go through it together as one, in the hope it would ease the pain a little. I think it did. Knowing everyone was feeling the same helped as we knew each of us was there for the other. It would have been so much harder doing it alone. At times like this, when one friend is lost, the others have to stick together and help each other through.
When we arrived we were astonished to find the vast number of people who had come to pay their respects. It really did highlight just what a guy Craig was, and how many lives he managed to touch over so little time. The service itself was extremely painful. It was here that it really hit me that I was never going to hear his laugh anymore. I struggled to keep hold of my emotions while his cousins played a song which was written for the occasion by Craig's dad. Though this was overwhelmingly sad, at the same time it was comforting as it summed up how I was feeling at the time. It showed to me how powerful music can be in capturing emotion. Everything I felt and wanted to say had been said in the song. It was almost as if the song was personal. From then on I was able to control my emotions better.
I did, however, realise that maybe my knowledge of Craig was less than I thought. It came out in the service that Craig attended church regularly, a fact that neither me, nor any of my friends were aware of. This saddened me terribly as I could not fathom his reasoning for keeping this part of his life completely private. Surely he didn't think we would have thought any less of him? Surely he didn't think it would make him look less ‘cool'? I just wanted too shout and tell him we didn't care about him going to church, that it didn't make a difference and he should have told us. It was strange, I almost felt angry at him, then guilty because I knew I shouldn't. I now realise, however, that it was his choice and that must be respected.
There is one phrase which really stood out for me during the service. It was a quotation from the bible, and I believed that it summed up Craig's life extremely well; "I have fought the good fight. I have finished the race. I have kept the faith!" Craig was a fighter, he managed to hang on and battle away for four days before he was finally defeated. He obviously had kept his faith too and this is why I found this phrase extremely fitting as a summary.
Once the service had finished, we exited the church, each of us stopping to speak with Craig's devastated parents. This was by far the worst part of the whole day. What can you say to someone in that situation? Especially someone as kind and warm-hearted as Craig's parents whom it was obvious had been shattered by the ordeal. I spoke with them a few moments, during which time a lump appeared in my throat. "What a lovely service, I'm really sorry about Craig." It hardly summed up how I felt about him, what a great person he was and how thankful I was to have known him.
My friends and I then decided to go for something to eat. All of us were unusually quiet, each absorbed in our own thoughts or memories of Craig. I remember thinking about the last time I had spoken to him. It had been the Friday before the accident, the last day of term at school, and we were walking up to church together. I couldn't remember, nor can I to this day, what we were actually talking about. I just remember him laughing and joking, as he usually was. I just wish I could remember our actual conversation. At the time it seemed so unimportant, and that there would be many more to come.
We raised our glasses and proposed a toast to Craig. The collective sadness was overwhelming. As I remember, there were 15 of us at the table, and the staff had placed two tables for eight together, meaning there was one spare seat. I could not help but think that Craig should have been there, sitting round that table with us, amusing us all. As it was, neither a smile nor a laugh was to be seen or heard the entire time.
Nowadays, all I can think of is all that Craig has missed in the past few months; limbo dancing at the prefect's dinner, being in our limo at prom; going through the excitement and anxiety of the exams and finally getting his results for those exams. All I have to remember though is, that although his life was short, he still managed to achieve a lot, in school, in sport, and socially too. He fought the good fight. He finished the race. He kept the faith. And though it was hard at first, I am now coming round to realise that death happens. It is inevitable, it just took this tragedy to make me realise.
