Killer Love(Septiplier)

What It Was Like

"We were married, and we lived together for a wonderful six years. Jack and I both got jobs at that little cafe down the street called the Laughing Reaper, which you all know, I'm sure. He was the bartender, and I quickly rose to the top in the kitchen. We did go back to Ireland occasionally, for sometimes weeks at a time to just be with each other and relax. I told you the full truth, because I know that's what he would have wanted. I loved him. I really did. I can still barely believe that he's gone... and I'll miss him. I can only hope, that Daniel will take care of him up there until I can see him again. Goodbye, Sean 'Jack' William McLoughlin. This was his life, as I knew it." I stepped off the little podium, and Matt and Ryan pulled me into their arms.

It was a small funeral, just me, Matt, Ryan, Chica, Lego, and a couple regulars from the Laughing Reaper who had spent hours a day talking to Jack over the bar. He had died five days prior, from a car accident on the way home from work.

I pulled away from Matt and Ryan, while some other people were telling how Jack had helped them and shit at the bar, and I walked up to the open casket. He looked so peaceful. Like the night he fell asleep under me during that eclipse.

I slid my hand under his suit and dress shirt, and I traced the M over his heart.

"You are always mine..." I started to cry, laying my hand on top of his, and kneeling down by the coffin.

We watched, as the funeral hands took the coffin away, as he was going to be cremated. I ran up to one of them, as they set it down inside, and pulled on his sleeve.

"Yes?"

"This is probably going to sound very creepy, but... You heard my eulogy. Over his heart, there's an M that he carved there. I- I was- never mind." I turned away, but he pulled me back.

"Just say it. It's okay. We get a lot of strange requests here."

"I- I just... The part with the M, do you think you could somehow cremate that separately? I- He..." I undid my shirt and showed him the eye over my heart. "He did this to me, years ago. Again, you heard my eulogy. But he did it to himself to show that he was always mine. I- I want to make sure I always have that part of him close to my heart..."

He nodded, as I pulled out one of those necklaces you can put the little prayer scroll in, you know?

"And... could you put those ashes in here?"

He took it, and smiled. "Of course. I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you! Thank you. I- I didn't actually expect you to agree to that. I- Thank you."

He walked away, and I went out, and started to walk home with Chica. Matt ran after me.

"Mark! Mark! We have a car-" He shut up as it hit him. I wouldn't be traveling in cars anytime soon. "Do you want me to walk with you...?"

"No... Thanks for the offer though." I gave him a hug. He pulled away after  moment, and got in the car. I kept walking. As soon as the car was out of sight, I pulled Chica off the sidewalk, and we walked among the rows of headstones, until we came to a new one, labeled with jack's name, birth-date, and date of death. It was under a willow, and the moss was thick around it. it was very green. I pulled a tiny Irish flag out of the pocket of my suit jacket, and stuck it in the ground. He used to sing the Irish National Anthem in front of it whenever the Irish team played in a soccer game. I hummed it, remembering the smile of pride that would light up his face whenever they scored.

I walked away, and back to my house for the wake. I had specifically requested that there be Dubliner among the cheese selection.

After the wake, I got a text from the funeral home. The cremation was done.

I walked back there, and the funeral assistant form before, handed me the necklace, and gave me a hug.

"Here."

"Thank you. Thank you so much..." I slipped the chain over my head, and the chamber rested with a reassuring weight on my chest.

"And here's this." He handed me the urn, the one I had picked out, and I felt its surprisingly light weight.

Jack's entire life, reduced to ashes. All his beauty, all his grace, all his wit, his smiles, his laugh, his tears, his blood. His strong arms that would hold me after a nightmare. His hands that would run through my hair during and after a night -or day- in bed. His soft lips, that would meet mine every chance he got, even at work. Those same lips, that formed the words he spoke, and the jokes he made, and particularly the words "I love you, Mo shíorghrá." Oh God I missed him.

I thanked the man again, and I went home.

I set the urn on the mantle above the fireplace, Angling the engravings on the front to have the perfect view of the TV. "Jack, I will never miss a single soccer game that Ireland participates in, and I will never miss a single episode of Futurama. And neither will you."

I went to bed, and pressed my face to his pillow. I started to cry, and I couldn't stop. He was gone. And his pillow, where he laid for so many nights, didn't smell like him anymore.