Living Without You

Move on, move on:
There's nothing changing. -- New Resolution, Azure Ray

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Hang in there.

Plain and simple. Somehow the words from the lips of my best friend have more healing power than those from another man's mouth. Even from my own. Perhaps being around him, and feeling the love reverberate between us finally set into motion the stale waters of my soul, and now the continuing ripples are growing steadily into waves that can carry my heart to a new land... or perhaps it was the timing. There seems to be timing for everything...

We want you to be a pall-bearer. Her words hit me hard. I couldn't comprehend what that meant at that moment, but "yes" escaped my mouth, and a few days later, I could see how important it was to them, who they were -- the people carrying their oldest son into the beyond. But I had already cried so much that summer. The wells in my eyes had long since dried up for all the pain and sorrow. I felt honored. I felt scared. I felt unsure about what it would mean, but I looked forward to it as it grew closer day by day.

When I arrived at the church, it was raining. Not the heavy downpour that normally accompanies extreme sorrow, but the constant drizzle that one thinks should happen on a day that is filled with circumstance and duty. We carried his coffin through the heavy oak doors and down the long isle lined with teary eyes and padded pews. Inside the young children dressed in robes of white paced here and there in accordance with some religious ceremony to which I had never been privy to, and the organs played a mellow tune. The voices that called out the last statements were dull and uninteresting, but they spoke to us, and many cried, though I could scarcely shed a tear. I had a headache, I couldn't quite believe it was still happening: his birthday was a week away, I told myself as though it would bring him back.

When it was all over, we advanced to the front and stood around his vessel and though there were a few too many to us -- it did mean a lot to his parents -- we escorted his body back past the rows of people. I avoided their eyes as much as possible, gripping tightly to the brass railing on my side of the box. I was one of only three people to see him as he was now. I tried not to think of it. Once outside, the rain had stopped, and puddles were sitting here and there as we approached the hearse. And like a sign from God, as soon as we loaded the coffin inside, the clouds parted and the sun shone in bright comforting rays here and there. They grew and gathered together as the hearse drove away to wherever it was going. I was never sure if he was going to be burried or burned, but when I took my last glance at the grandiose Anglican chapel before I drove away, it made a scene much like the ones from paintings: the bell tower rose high above the rest of the arches and flying buttresses and the sun filtered through the clouds behind it with a rosy golden hue, and it was alright.