The funeral was held on a Thursday.
The sky was usually painted a bright blue this time of year, but it held a deep shade of grey all day. Threats of a downpour from the rain clouds that hovered over head remained throughout the service, before finally spilling over as people gathered by the graveside, or so I was told.
It was family only. That's the way his mom wanted it. She begged me to come, but I wanted nothing to do with it. I wanted as far away from reality as I could get. Instead, I waited it out, hiding myself from questions and cameras that hounded me.
"How did it happen?"
"Can you tell us who stabbed who?"
"Do you believe it was premeditated?"
"Do you take any responsibility for it?"
That last one came from a female reporter that followed me to my car one afternoon. A female. I spent all day wondering if she'd have asked a man that.
It felt like she was telling me that it was all my fault for wanting to love somebody freely. Maybe it was, I still hadn't decided.
The days and weeks that followed were no different. There was a barrage of police interviews, reporters with tents pitched outside my home, newspapers with character assassination attempts from 'friends' of Jamie. They did whatever they could to ensure he left behind a good name by sullying mine and Wills.
Annie angrily stepped in front of a camera once to defend her brother when it was wrongly reported that he had 'previous charges'. It didn't go how she wanted at all.
She was called aggressive. Unhinged. Cut from the same cloth as her brother, who had destroyed the life of millionaire business tycoon Tom Reynolds' son. I was the reason for Jamies downward spiral and his 'untimely death', and Will was my accomplice.
That's really how they tried to sell it. I had a hunch that Tom had a lot to do with the manner in which it was all reported. People got Jamie's side of things, never Wills. After a while, when it was obvious I wasn't going to talk, they started to write about how both men had been duped. They'd somehow both fallen victim to me and my wicked scheming, and were unable to resist the charms of a temptress.
Still, I didn't bite, and I never talked about it publicly, no matter how big the media storm grew.
The evidence was there. The camera footage from the apartment block and my own injuries were enough to show that it was self defence on my part, and on Wills.
As it turned out, there was a bit of confusion over what injury had actually killed Jamie. Whatever way Will had swung that scissors at him, he had managed to pierce his abdominal aorta, or at least that's what the post mortem showed. I didn't see it happen, and neither of them were here right now to tell the tale.
It's pretty much a lethal blow, which explains why he was stumbling when I got to him. Unfortunately, it didn't stop him driving the knife into Wills chest afterward, his parting gift.
Will was right too, Jamie had been on drugs, a lot of them actually, which only added to the mess. There was a concoction of things in his system, but the driver was crack cocaine. The few people willing to talk about Jamies spiral were able to say that he'd been dabbling with it for a while before completely getting sucked in. The reporters didn't seem as interested in those details as they could have been though, it didn't fit the narrative.
Even with all the proof there was, I still had to give a full history of my life with Jamie to a bunch of strangers. Reliving every time he got mad, every time he hit me, punched me, attacked me... everything. Statements from my friends and family went a long way too. A lot of the time it felt as though I was justifying the fact that I had likely killed him. And I suppose I was.
Karl really wanted me to release the video, but ultimately, I felt like Jamie's family had already lost a son and brother, why torture them further? It would only be to clear my own name, and I didn't really care what anyone was saying about me, I was in a world of my own as it was, unable to see through the fog.
I couldn't quite believe the loyalty and compassion of Wills friends. They helped in any and every way that they could. Speaking on Wills behalf, attesting to his character. I heard things about him that I'd have never known otherwise. I was told stories of so much kindness on his part that I couldn't believe it was all the one person. Even Kim made an attempt to defend him, talking about the kind of partner he had been to her. Sweet and loving.
I often think that if she hadn't of let him go, maybe none of this would have ever happened, and he'd be happy right now.
My own family rallied around me. Donna and my Dad spent more time making sure I was eating and sleeping than they did for themselves. They wanted me to stay with them, but I wasn't prepared to leave the home I shared with Will. Not even for a short while.
Wills mom flew down hours after she got the call. It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I had to face her wondering if she was wishing that her son had never met me. But needless to say, that wasn't the case. She was just as heartbroken and inconsolable as I was, and yet she went out of her way to let me know that she was there for me. She and Will were really so alike that it was almost painful to be around her at times.
Some days I'd wake up in the apartment alone and I'd just stay in bed with my hand spread across to the side where Will should lie. I'd cry for hours until I had to pull myself together and get up. I had to be stronger.
There wasn't time to mourn the life that we once had. I had to prepare for all of the things that might come.
And today was one of those days.
It's been exactly five weeks now since it happened, I don't think I'll ever stop counting. I woke up early this morning, but can't seem to talk myself out of bed. I'm running so behind.
I've been tortured by a nagging feeling deep inside of me that I can't shake. It's keeping me pinned here, unable to function until I acknowledge it. It's something that Will said when it happened, I hadn't thought about it much until now.
Most days I push these memories away, so it takes me awhile to even build up the courage to allow myself a minute to think about it all.
It was what he said to me while he was laying there.
I close my eyes, remembering every second. It all comes crashing back into my mind like storm waves taking over a ship, devouring me whole.
I can hear them fighting all over again. I know now that the gasp that I heard belonged to Will. I begin to wonder how terrified he must have been as Jamie pierced the knife into him, but I have to force myself past it, that's not what I'm trying to remember.
Focus Izzy.
Wills head lay on my knees, he couldn't get a full string of words out, but he tried.
"…the jacket."
That's it. That's what he said. This is what's nagging me.
Why was he even worrying about some silly piece of clothing in that moment? Why did it matter enough for it to be the last thing he said to me?
I drag myself up out of bed, wanting to understand, I need that jacket.
Searching everywhere, I struggle to recall where I last saw it. Was it still here after the place was cleaned? I don't remember moving it anywhere, but maybe Annie had, or Cheryl.
I check the closets and coat hooks but can't seem to find it. Searching every single press and drawer there is doesn't yeild any results either. I even look under our bed in the hope that it's there, but still, nothing. I'm starting to worry that the police might have taken it, but when I glance over at the little closet in the hallway, I get the urge to check it one more time. It was the first place I looked, but there's no harm in being sure.
Needless to say, there it is, hanging front and centre when I open the door. I must reach past it most days to get my own.
Taking it out, I carry it to the living room like it could break. It smells just like him, so I can't stop myself pushing my hands through the arms and wrapping myself in it, wishing more than anything it were Will.
I sit draped in it for awhile, asking myself a hundred questions about what the future looks like before I remember what I was doing in the first place.
What did he want me to know?
As I check the breast pocket, I find only the receipt from our dinner. I know that wasn't it, as nice as it is to find, so I check the other pockets too, sinking my hands down into them until I find it.
It's exactly what he had been trying to tell me about, and I don't even have to take it out to know.
My fingers clutch at a little velvet box, sending me spiralling into a fit of tears. Of course he already had it, and in his worst moment, he wanted to make sure that I got it.
I have to build up the mental strength to open it up, but I'm not surprised at all to find that it's absolutely beautiful. A single pear shaped diamond, sitting on a plain white gold band. I couldn't have picked a better one myself.
All I feel is grief and disappointment. This isn't how I should be seeing this ring. It's meant to be happy. I'm meant to be with Will.
Looking up at the clock, I know I'm out of time to wallow in my misery for the day. I have to go. Rushing to get changed, I scrape my hair back and grab the bag that I pack every day before heading out the door, ready to do the same thing I've been doing for the last five weeks.
It's not too long before I arrive, parking in the same spot I do each time, taking the lift up to the third floor and greeting one of the same three or four people I do every day.
"Izzy?"
I spin around, seeing Annie waving at me from the coffee machine in the hallway. Her own bag is slung over her shoulder.
"Hey," I say, "was everything okay?"
"Yeah, it was fine. I was just about to call you, I know you like to see us before we leave, but I've got to be at the bar this afternoon. We've the health inspector coming in and I haven't been there in weeks.
"Sorry," I say, "I was running a bit late this morning."
I can't bring myself to tell her what I found. All of this hurts enough for us both to fill a life time.
"Don't worry about it," she says, "I just didn't want you to think I'd upped and left without checking in."
"Not at all. I know life needs to keep moving."
Annie musters up a weak smile as she reaches out and squeezes my arm.
"Do you want a coffee or anything?"
"No I'm okay, I better get in there."
"Have you eaten yet?," she asks, "You don't look great."
"I'll get something soon," I tell her, "don't worry, it was just a hard morning."
Annie watches me cautiously as I move towards the room up the hall. I know she's worried, but I don't need her to think about me. She has so much on her own shoulders already.
"Hey, you know what," she calls after me, "let me just call Adam. He can look after the bar and I'll stay here awhile."
"No, honestly don't worry Annie. I'll be fine, I promise I'll get something. You go, you have enough on your plate."
"Are you sure? It's really not a problem."
"I'm sure," I say, "thank you though. I'll call you after I'm finished here okay?"
"Do," she says. "And let me know if they tell you anything new."
"I will. Bye Annie."
Once I'm inside the room I can finally breathe. It's like I'm never fully able to until I'm in here. I stop and take a look at all of the machines in front of me, all of the things I'm most gratefull for right now.
Dumping my bag in the corner, I unzip the side pocket and pull out the little velvet box I found earlier, bringing it with me as I take a seat and pull down the metal rail like always.
"Hey you," I whisper, "I think I might have found something that you wanted me to have." I lift the box, sitting it onto the blanket and opening it up. "It didn't feel right to put it on until I was with you," I say.
Silent tears sneak their way down my face as I slide the ring onto my finger and take his hand in mine. "And my answer is yes. It was always going to be yes."
Resting my head against his knuckles, my sobs take over like they have every other time I've had to sit here. I'm haunted with images of all the things I should have with Will.
Birthdays and weddings, trips to shadow lake and hikes that I'd pretend I'm fit enough for. Vacations with Annie and Adam. Babies and sleepless nights. Evenings where I scream my head off singing while watching him on stage. But most importantly, getting to hold his hand as we enter our golden years together, just like he said.
One of the machines beeps, pulling me back to where I am. It does it every few minutes, but I find it helpful. It never lets me dwell in my sadness too long. I stare up at it, glad that it's there to tell me there's hope.
Running my hand over the one I'm clutching, I wonder like always if he can even hear me.
"You know," I say longingly, "I'm having a really hard day today, so if you were planning on waking up anytime soon, today would be a really good day to do it Will."