The wind on Our backs

29- Reverie

The air in the small funeral home was thick with unspoken sorrow, heavy enough to feel like a shroud wrapping around Rachel as she walked in, hand-in-hand with Adrien's parents. It was hard to believe that just a few days ago, she had shared laughter and quiet moments with Adrien, and now they were here, preparing to say goodbye forever. The world felt dimmer, as if a light had been extinguished with Adrien's passing.

As they stepped inside, Rachel's gaze fell on a table adorned with flowers—deep blue hydrangeas, Adrien's favorite, mixed with white lilies that symbolized purity and renewal. They were beautiful, yet they only deepened the ache in her chest. She had been tasked with helping Adrien's parents choose the flowers for the service, and each selection felt like a small betrayal. How could something so beautiful represent a farewell?

Adrien's mom, Claire, looked at the arrangements with tears glistening in her eyes. "He would have loved this," she whispered, her voice trembling. Rachel squeezed her hand tightly, feeling the weight of shared grief settle between them. It was a weight they would bear together.

As they worked through the details of the funeral, Rachel found herself sharing memories of Adrien, moments that seemed insignificant at the time but now felt like treasures. "Remember when he made that ridiculous snowman last winter?" she asked, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "He insisted on giving it a top hat and a scarf, even though it was just a pile of snow."

Adrien's dad, Mark, chuckled through his tears. "He had a flair for the dramatic, didn't he? Everything had to be special with him." They reminisced, and for a moment, the somber atmosphere lightened as laughter mingled with their tears.

Later, as they finalized arrangements for the service, Rachel found a quiet corner to catch her breath. She stepped outside into the chilly afternoon air, wrapping her arms around herself. The wind carried the scent of damp earth, a reminder of the changing seasons. She walked to a nearby park, seeking solace beneath the sprawling branches of an old oak tree. The leaves rustled gently, whispering secrets she couldn't quite hear.

Sitting on a bench, Rachel closed her eyes and allowed herself to feel. The weight of loss settled heavily on her heart, but amidst the sorrow, she felt a flicker of Adrien's spirit. She could almost hear his voice teasing her about her love for drama, telling her to lighten up. A smile broke through her tears, and she whispered, "I miss you, Adrien."

In that moment of reflection, she resolved to honor his memory. Adrien had taught her to embrace life, to find joy in the little things, even in the midst of pain. She pulled out her phone and opened a blank note, her fingers flying over the screen as she poured out her heart. She wrote about their shared moments—tag games, snow days, quiet talks about dreams and fears. She promised to keep his spirit alive in her heart, to live boldly, just as he had.

Later, as the sun began to set, casting a golden hue across the horizon, Rachel returned to the funeral home. The service was set for the following day, and she wanted to ensure everything was perfect for Adrien. As she walked in, she found Claire and Mark deep in conversation with the funeral director.

They turned to Rachel, their faces etched with gratitude. "Thank you for being here," Mark said, his voice thick with emotion. "We're lucky to have you."

Rachel nodded, feeling the warmth of their words amidst the cold reality of the day. "I'm honored to be here for you both," she replied, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions brewing inside her.

As they worked together to finalize the details, the atmosphere shifted. Laughter bubbled up from stories they shared, memories spilling out like rays of sunlight breaking through dark clouds. Rachel felt a strange sense of peace wash over her as she laughed and cried in equal measure. It was cathartic, a reminder that even in grief, there could be moments of light.