Some say love,
It is a razor
That leaves your soul to bleed.
Bette Midler
The Rose
October 2nd, 2009
It is the first time in forty-one days that BettyJane and I are together, in the same place, outside of Jess's hospital room.
It is cold outside, the wind is blowing significantly and it is lightly drizzling.
BettyJane and I are both holding a single rose in our right hand.
"Keep moving forward." I say to myself.
"Not left. Not right."
"Not back."
"But Forward."
Believe it or not, I am forty-four years old and I have never in my life been to a cemetery after a funeral.
One by one, Terri's friends approach her coffin and they drop their rose onto her casket as they say their goodbyes.
Terri's immediate family and best of friends are near the end of the line.
As the front of the line is steadily approaching the grave, the back of the line refuses to move, somehow hoping if they don't move forward, what is supposed to happen in the next ten minutes, will not actually happen.
It is all too final.
"Keep moving forward."
Across the cemetery I can see the people who have already placed their rose, said their good byes and have headed back to their cars.
The back of the line still refuses to move forward.
A gentlemen in a black suit, who I don't recognize, starts taking each person by the hand, and kindly leads and instructs each loved one to place their rose on the grave site.
The last rose finally has been placed.
How do you leave?
Where do you go?
How do you go on?
"Keep moving forward." I keep repeating to myself.
"Keep moving forward."
My thoughts and love are with the Gili family, but I can't help thinking that in the last thirty-three days, my wife has lost two of the most important people in her life.
I think to myself, "The next thirty-three days have to be better."
I am dead wrong.
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