I laid the red roses down in front of the temporary wooden plaque. Her proper headstone wouldn’t be ready for months, but I already knew what it would read.
Here lies Emma Beale, loving daughter and friend. May she rest in peace.
They weren’t the words I would have chosen for her. I would have picked “courageous and kind until the end.” I crouched down and admired all the flowers that had been left at funeral yesterday. I had been there, but had made sure I hid at the back so as not to draw too much attention to myself.
The funeral was a credit to her. Despite there being hardly any family to attend, the pews were full of other people whose lives Emma had touched. School friends. Teachers. Other young people in similar situations she had met at local kids’ clubs. The words “kind,” “bright,” and “brave” were echoing around the church.
I heard two of her teachers talking outside about what she would have become. That was the worst bit, knowing how much she still had to live for. How much she deserved to experience.
I smiled as I remembered her telling me once that she couldn’t wait to be older and dating a man who would bring her flowers. Not all the time, she had said, just the odd random occasion, so that she’d never see it coming. I had laughed and asked what flowers she would want. Red roses.
I made sure the bouquet was positioned nicely amongst the others and let the silent tear roll down my cheek. All the hardships Emma had been forced to endure flooded through my mind, and the awful memory of the day her death played like a video through my head. Everything that had happened since then had left me physically and emotionally exhausted. But I was lucky. I still had a home and my family. Most importantly, my daughter still had a future.
“I’m sorry, Emma. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you. I’m sorry I let you down.” I choked out the words. As I let the tears fall, I heard the sound of someone approaching behind me.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“No, no, it’s okay.” I wiped the tears away as I turned to face the girl. She looked the same age as Emma, perhaps a little younger. She was holding a decorative stone with an engraving on it. “How did you know Emma?”
“She was in my year at school. In my form. She was nice. She stuck up for me when the popular girls started ganging up on me.”
I smiled. That sounded like Emma, sticking up for those in need.
“How did you know her?”
“Oh, um …” I paused for a moment, wondering what I should say. If I told her the truth, would that friendly smile turn to anger? Would she tell me this is all my fault? That her friend was gone because I failed her?
“Wait, are you her social worker? Suzanne?”
The use of my name took me by surprise. I hadn’t expected Emma to refer to me as anything other than “my social worker.”
“Um, yes. Yes, I was.”
She nodded, a knowing smile on her face. “She liked you. She said you really listened to her, that she felt like you cared.”
Emotion welled in me once again. “That’s lovely to know. Thank you. Sorry, what’s your name?”
“Kira. When she told me all about what you did for her, and what you do for all the kids you look after, it made me want to be a social worker.”
“You want to be a social worker?”
“Yep. Going to work hard in my exams, go to University and do a degree in social work.” She held her head up high with pride. “I’m going to help people the way you helped Emma.”
I wiped away the tear from the corner of my eye as a weight lifted off my shoulders. I had done right by Emma. I wasn’t able to save her in the end, but I had helped her along the way. “I think that’s amazing, Kira. Good on you.”
“Thanks.”
I pointed to the engraved stone she had clasped in her hands. “Is that for Emma?”
“Yeah. It says ‘thank you for the friendship, thank you for the smile, thank you for the love you showed me, even though it was only for a while.’” She shrugged, looking suddenly embarrassed. “It’s a bit cheesy, but I liked it.”
“It’s lovely. Emma will really appreciate that. I need to go now, as my daughter’s waiting for me back home. I’m glad I met you, Kira.” I turned back to the mound of flowers and cards of condolences. “Goodbye, Emma.”