"Pearls and swine bereft of me,

Long and weary my road has been,

I was lost in the cities,

Alone in the hills

No sorrow or pity for anything I feel."

We travelled for nearly four hours, first smiling and joking, then reminiscing, finally falling into nervous silence as our destination approached.

As the church loomed above us the same stone sat heavy in each of our stomachs.

Tears pricked each of our eyes.

The realisation that 'we're at your funeral'.

...and just how wrong that is.

Sitting in the pub waiting for the time to come. Silence. All staring at unwanted drinks. Lost in thought. Lost in regret. Lost in guilt.

How wrong that it's you. You and no one else. And 'why'?

Why?

Why?

Why?

Of all the arseholes, of all the fuck ups, why did it have to be you?

So lost, so innocent, such a misfit.

Walking up to the church. Hundreds of people. New friends. Old friends. Family. Rudes. Alternatives. Essentially kids. Seventeen year olds, not even old enough to drown away the sorrow.

Barriers forgotten, pride left at the gate. Tears, so many tears.

A mexican wave as your coffin glided past us. A life, a soul, an entity, a personality too big to be contained in that little box.

We all broke down.

'Not you.'

Church packed out, so wrong that the only time when the people who make life what it is come together is in death.

Walking away, leaving you there in the ground, lost amongst the 80 year olds, 90 year olds, there you lay, a child.

Buried with a beer and a spliff.

Ashes to ashes, a handful of dirt.

Dust to dust, a sprinkling of ganj.

'One for the journey.'

Hell we shoulda thrown in a teabag.

Because that's who you were. You were Kynan [past tense]. You were not one to take seriously, you were certainly never one to cry for. Looking at your picture on the leaflet, tears seem irrelevant. That isn't who you were. Casual clothes, audioslave playing, notable lack of hymns, a prayer, a generalised speech, a priest who said your name funny. A service meant for someone else, stylised to you.

It'd been six months since we'd seen you.

You'd run away from all this shit.

You'd just sorted it out.

Found a new life.

Speaking to your friends. Learning so much.

You'd stopped the drugs,

You were going to college.

Chemistry, Psychology.

You were deciding whether to stay or return.

A choice that was made for you.

Chatting with your new best friend, so glad you'd found a place you finally fitted in. So glad you found happiness. So devastated it was robbed from you... so wrong. So many who deserved it more.

A book passed around. Letters to Kynan. Words we wish we'd said. Memories we thought we'd forgotten. So much left unsaid. So many laughs, so many memories shared. So many smiles, between those who've never met.

'He was such a character, so unique, so one-of-a-kind.'

We all know we'd never have forgotten him. Why did no one ever say it? Did we ever say one nice thing to him? Did he ever realise that he did mean something? Will he ever know?

It's too late now.

Too late for regrets.

The long journey back. We left you there. Sun shining down, endless blue. We walked away. Left you there in that hole. Closed the book on the last chapter of your life. Realised how much we appreciate those who are left. Still can't find the words to say 'I love you, don't ever go away.'

So we sit, we chat about what we've learned - his new life, his new friends, how much better his life seemed up there. Discuss returning with flowers, time alone, a plaque on a bench where he used to smoke with us. And we trawl back home, to sit alone, to remember, to dream.

I dream of a party, held in his honour. A party where we pass through a passageway which leads to a place very far away - a portal - through time, through space, through worlds. We crawl through a tight hole under ploughed soil, pushing through dirt, mud, worms, and emerge the other side in a garden beyond the ground.

We sit at white clothed tables, we drink from cups that never need refilling, glistening white wine. And we celebrate one life. Lost. Passed. But never forgotten.

"Friends and liars, don't wait for me,

Cause I'll get on all by myself,

Put millions of miles under my heels,

And still too close to you I feel."