Mr. Wallis

Part 55 (Mathew's POV)

It was mid-afternoon, his favorite time of day when we buried him. The town had all been generous enough to respect one of their elders, and had quietly gone about their day just as if it were any other, just as he had asked. My father had wanted the baker to bake her sweet goods, the children to run around knowing not of tomorrow, and for the black to be the last color on anyone's mind.

My brother's and I wore his old blazers, and watched the last bit of our father join our dear Mum. Together they could be seen dancing once again as their tombstones touched.

Peter had been chosen to give his eulogy first, and his face becomes as it once was whenever he cried; soft, round, and pink as the day he was first held by Mum. Freely letting his tears flow, I grew jealous of his freedom. I never had given myself such a thing.

"...not many men are both a great husband, and father, let alone a friend, but he --Dad, had managed to be all, and more. He could stop you from breathing, and give you life with a simple word. He was a grand old man." He chuckled a bit, and wiped his eyes. "He strongly believed in being all who you are, and hiding little of what you felt. Time, and time again he helped all of us, everyone here. If we needed an ear, or shoulder, Kurt Wallis was there."

Drifting down to my side, my fingers twitched. I wanted to embrace him. He had the courage to speak in father's funeral, unlike when Mum died, Peter had stayed silent for weeks before uttering a single word.

"You did well," was all I could whisper to him. Smiling, Peter beckoned me to say it a little louder. Smirking, we both chuckled between our small bond. Jack cleared his throat, and nervously made his way up next.

The bundles of foxglove, and bee orchids surrounding the tombstone added a charm to Jack, who shared our father's strong features.  Many who had known our father during his younger years could see it as well. As he spoke it seemed almost as if Kurt Wallis had not died at all, and was rejuvenated, speaking about himself.

"Everything I am when it comes to my wits, and mind, it is due to this man here. Everything I feel, and what lies in my chest, it is from his beautiful bride. Together they both did their best to raise such frivolous boys, and I believe they have yet to still teach us a thing or to as life goes on."

I listened to our eldest brother give his speech, and admired his never-failing smile. Jack calmed the crowd, he had always been best with people. Another strike of jealousy whipped my collar. These two were the only thing left of our small family. We had a few aunts, but the family that was us, and our parents has now come down to three.

How could I be the odd one out? I question why I even exist, and why I am jealous to not posses what Peter, and Jack had. To make it worse, they both could express their hearts, whether it was blue, or magenta, they displayed their colors.

Looking at my hand, I close down my thumb, and index finger.

I want to show them I love them. It's just us three left.

Soon after he finished, Peter pushed me to go on up. Placing the eulogy I had practiced away, my mouth then slipped out everything I was feeling in that exact moment.

The two boys shimmered their oak eyes back at me, and curled their tender, sealed lips into a smile.

"Never have I, heh, I have never been grand at showing my affection...to anyone."

Jack cocked a brow as his smile spread. Slyly he elbowed Peter, and whispered something far from my hearing. Clearing my throat, I allowed myself some freedom.

"But I have felt it often. Every time father would kiss our mother. When he would hold my hand along our trips to the shores, or as he carried me away while I faked my slumber. He would know I would be awake, but still would carry me back home no matter how heavy I had gotten over the years." Tears dropped out my eyes while my throat burned. "I feel it every day when I am with my family, with my brothers. I feel it even as we bicker, and constantly pick at one another. I feel it even now. I feel love."

The last conversation I had with my father before leaving was about my lack of expression. He laid on his bed, while I leaned back listening to him scold me sweetly; the only way he could.

"One day you'll burst from all that you try to contain, Mathew."

Licking my lips, I want to shake away his voice, but force my mind to have it roam around me. I miss my dad.

"I miss him so much." My voice withered, and my arms loosely took hold of the podium. "Though we were away completing our father's personal matters, the last time I had spoken with him...I would not change it for now, because, there he had been filled with life, and light."

I would rather have that be our last chat, then have seen him coughing himself into a bloody mess that my eyes would not process well.

Everyone had a softer face. The spotted clouds rolled in, and beams of sun shot down randomly. As I stepped down, my eyes search everyone's eyes. We all were here for the one man who had enough heart to share it for decades.

A pair of chocolate waves captured me mid-step. Silently crying, Lania stood in the back with her hands covering her mouth.

Her ridiculous dress swayed with each beam that surrounded her, and it gave her a heavenly picture.

It's not real. I tell myself it had to be a dream, or cursed trick that was caused with spilling my emotions. Slowly I made my way past my brothers as her cries echoed in my ears before anyone else's.

Jack smiles, stands up straight and looks away as our aunt finishes the ceremony. "You go get her, little brother," he said.