Everyone’s eyes were wide when I walked into school that morning. People huddled in clusters in corners, glancing furtively at me. My friends saw their glances and turned around to face me, Maddie’s eyes, rimmed red, staring straight into my equally rouged ones.
I walked straight up to her and put my arms around her.

I had had my crying time. I had been there when the last blip beeped from the life support machine. I had let my tears fall freely as Jen’s mother sobbed over her daughter’s body. I had consoled family members, told friends.

In this time I was ignored. My best friend’s soul had parted ways from her body, and everyone else was crying. I was consoling, I was informing.
But I also visited Jen’s parents every day, organised the wake, talked about her in assembly.
I knew that whilst everyone else was hurting, I had to console them, because Jen’s death wasn’t about me. I had had my crying time, and now I had to face the fact that death happens every day, even if it wrenched my heart out to do so.