Just Jump

Epilogue

Epilogue

          She held her hand with the klenex held tightly between two fingers to her eye and her hand over her heart, which was beating impossibly fast. Father Carter was reading off one of Kale's favorite bible passages from when he was a child; he would always read it when he needed comfort or a boost in his faith. He was a smart young man; always talking about how God would protect his father at war.

          "For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again," he read off Thessalonians 4:14-17 with accuracy, hardly even looking down at the open bible in front of him, "Even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep. For this we declare to you by a word from the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord."

          "I know times have come to desperate things . . . and though I knew Kale personally, I didn't think he was capable of this," Father said, raising his head slowly from the book after clearing his throat and looking into the eyes of everyone in the room, individually at first and then as a whole. "I know how strong he was. I know how much faith he had that his father would come home . . . and I believe that's what pushed him over the edge. I believe he was still strong, but I think he reached a point in his life that he just didn't care anymore."

          "I know it isn't my place," Father Carter said, now looking into the eyes of Kale's mother, "But I'm sure he wouldn't want us to feel pain . . . I'm sure he would want us to try and move on, because that's the kind of man he was. I loved Kale just as much as everyone else in this room did . . . and now, one of those loving women is going to come up and say a few words about the son she lost."

          Without another word from Father Carter, or even another cry or sound from someone else in the church, Faye stood and headed down the row her pew was placed in. Beside where she sat was Colton, holding Elliot's hand tightly in his own. She was crying hard, her body shaking violently as she buried her face in his shoulder. The look on Colton's face surprised everyone in the room; it wasn't one of anger, hatred or even a blank expression.

          He looked almost as if he was in as much pain as Elliot and Faye were. His eyes were glazed over from crying for the past week; his skin was drained of nearly all pigment, making him look ghostly white. His disheveled hair made him look even more tired, with the deep purple bags beneath his eyes.

          He seemed to be in just as bad of shape, if not worse, as Faye and Elliot.

          Turning her head away from her only living son, Faye headed to the podium and swallowed hard. Her heart was beating impossibly fast; she'd only done this three months earlier for Kale and Colton's father, the only man she ever truly loved that she hadn't helped create. Her boys were her world . . . and now, she'd lost half of that.

          "I don't know what to say," Faye's voice sounded before she even realized she was talking, "I don't know how to put into words what I'm feeling or thinking or not . . . I don't know if there is a way to explain the lose a mother feels for her child. I've never had to experience this before. I've never had to lose my child."

          "Until now," she whispered, looking down at her hands as a tear trickled down her cheek, falling off her jawline and landing on her palm. "As you all know, I lost my husband a good four months ago. The funeral was private; we didn't want everyone knowing, except his war buddies and his commanding officer."