Emerald-green grass shimmered with droplets of dew as gray skies swirled above the crisp New York world. I grabbed my black coat closer to my chilled body to produce warmth, instead goose bumps slithered down my arms and spine. Black coats and slacks spread among each person's body to resemble the fact that each were silently grieving. Tears rippled from the clouded eyes of many, but I wouldn't let a single tear slip from my anguished, gray eyes. I had to stand strong, stay firm to the road of adequacy, but the pavement cracked and crumbled each second.

"She was a loved by many. And we will all miss her greatly." the preacher lectured by the hard, gray grave where my best friend rested her forever-closed eyes under the earth. Yes, she was loved by many, but my love was probably greater than all the mourners combined. Her parents were work-aholics and didn't pay much attention to her. Her cheating boyfriend only came because he thought it was the 'right thing to do'. Relatives only saw her once a year, and it seemed they had better things to do. A few fake friends squeezed counterfeit tears before they headed off into their realities. I alone, was the only one who cared for her lifeless corpse lying in that cheap casket under the ground.

How could she leave me like this? Trapped in this prison of reality called 'life'. She made the easy way out. She had found the key to the Life Lock and broke through, leaving me behind the bars. She wasn't the one to give up. She was ambitious with fierce personality. She was so terribly strong, I never thought something as simple and feeble as death would get to her. But, this damned town must've gotten the best of her, and she escaped through Death's doors. She had failed the challenge of life: to survive. Instead of making it through these years, she surrendered to existence.

Guilt and shame poured into the batter of my heart as more mixed emotions spilled in. I glanced across the gloomy morning where sorrowful beings clutched onto soft tissues as their noses ran ruby-red. Perhaps, there was something I could've done to save her. I wish I could've hid that key to the Life Lock. I should've seen through those artificial smiles she created. But, I couldn't play superhero any longer for her. The best I did was catch those tears of hers and listen to the sorrowful words she would whisper when her days were rough. I just wish I could've done more and be the heroine to solve the heartache. But, I'm retiring the title of Super Savior and leave that job up to the big man upstairs.

I believe he will take very good care of her. Better care than I gave in her seventeen years. She's in a nice place. Better than this filthy town of worries and despair. "...Sherrie had accomplished many things. She had many friends. She was quite the popular one in school.", the preacher praised on as I gave a muffled grunt. Sherrie was nowhere near 'popular' nor had many 'friends'. Especially, not in school. I remember we'd skip History lots of times and pull many pranks on the 'in crowd'. Plus, we were a bit anti-social. Always the 'outcast', never falsely admired, like kids who were so-called 'popular'. I was Sherrie's friend, and Sherrie was my friend. Together, we were one and were unbeatable. Now, only half of us is left in this cold world.

Despite the fact that she'd skip classes, Sherrie was wicked smart. Give her any math problem, she'd figure it out on the spot. She was also known as a 'walking dictionary'. Her vocabulary was terribly high along with her quick-wit. You would always find her nose dug inside a rich book instead of swooning over members of boy bands. She was completely and utterly unique with her own taste of personality.

"Would anyone like to share something about our beloved, Sherrie?" the preacher asked as many sunk back. You'd think the parents would at least want to say something, but they just sort of stood off to the side, and bathed in shame, guilt, and pain. They knew they could've done better as parents. Shame absorbed their words and others just looked at each other like, 'what do we say?'.

"I would." I piped up from the quiet commotion of awkward silence. Everyone's eyes glued on to me as I swallowed back and proceeded to walk to where the preacher was standing. Blank stares followed me as I cleared my throat and began to speak.

"Sherrie. There are no words to explain her. She was unique, ambitious, and probably way more adjectives than any of us could possibly think of. But, she could probably think of them for us." I started as a few people gave light chuckles.

"What happened... Is a tragedy. Some of you won't want to talk about it. Some of you may even deny it just to save the sadness. But, it happened." I continued as I gave a light gulp as others repeated the swallow.

"Life will give you hardships, but sometimes we'll just have to sail through it. I guess, Sherrie got sea-sick." I preached as half-smiles played across lips.

"She couldn't handle sailing anymore. So, she walked the plank. And, now she's swimming in a better sea. I just want her to know, I will always be her first-mate and I'm going to miss sailing with her." I finished, completing my abnormal metaphor about life.

"Thank you, Rose." the preacher said and gave me a firm handshake before I walked back to where I was standing before. The preacher had said a few more words, and the ceremony was over.

Slowly, people disappeared and I was the only one left standing by her grave. I bent down and traced the words engraved in the stone. "Sherrie Bubble 1990-2007" curved under my raw finger-tips. I dug into my pocket and got out a sturdy pocket-knife. "Sailing The Seas" was carved into her tombstone as I put the knife back into my pocket. Suddenly, a tiny tear slipped down my pale cheek as I placed brightly colored flowers on the stone. I began to walk back to my car until I stopped and turned around. I glanced at her lonely grave and said,

"I hope you're sailing better seas."