wis·dom
/ˈwizdəm/
noun
the quality of having experience, knowledge, and good judgment; the quality of being wise.
Narnia had always been a free country, until she came along. Jadis was the devil in disguise, and she brought to the kingdom an eternal...
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"'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." - Alfred Lord Tennyson
England, 1949.
The funeral had been the toughest day of Edmund's life (actually, the toughest day of his life was finding his wife dead in the attic. But, you know).
And it was only getting tougher.
The tie was suffocating him, making him feel breathless and out of air. And it was even so tight. Maybe it wasn't the tie; maybe it was the cemetery, her grave, her limp body inside the casket. But, who knows?
Edmund wondered if the funeral wasn't for him, too. He was just as dead as she was. When Olivia passed away, she took his soul with him. Now? He was just a boy without a mind wandering endlessly in this cruel world.
He barely noticed the little pat on the back, people whispering their condolences. He tuned everything out and didn't pay attention to a single word, a single gesture. The Church kept piling up, more and more people coming.
Hillary was crying on a bench, tissue in her hand, and Helen Pevensie comforting her. Digory looked at the ground, quiet tears escaping his eyes as Polly Plummer tried to get him to eat. It was a snooze fest, with people crying all around the room.
Edmund knew every single one of them. There was Jolie, her partner, in the most recent Odyssey project they had done together. There was Maurice, Ian's brother, and there was Ian, a boy who sat in the back of her class. It was funny how she could touch every single person she came across in life.
"Please be seated. We're about to begin."
Edmund touched her cold face. Open-casket. And he went to his place in the front row, next to Peter and Lucy. His sister squeezed his hand, and he tried to think about anything else other than his dead wife a few metres away.
The priest spoke a few words. Her soul was now with Jesus, something he already knew. After all, they had fought a few battles for him, only in another world, and he had another name.
He knew she would've liked this ceremony. He picked her favourite flowers, tulips, for the decoration. Susan and Lucy put on Olivia her favourite earrings: the little pearl ones that matched a ring she had. It was in the Church his parents and her aunt went to, with the priest that baptised her twenty-three years ago.
Edmund wanted everything to go perfectly. She deserved at least the best funeral. I vowed I would always be yours, even after death. Every word, every syllable, or her letter cling to his mind, ricocheting like a bullet, going side-to-side like a fucking bell.
Can you be mine? It read. I've always been yours, and I always will. Was what he mentally answered. He only hoped she could hear his words from wherever she was. Edmund knew their love could surpass worlds and realities, but did she?
