Not Far (Completed)

Saying Goodbye

SAYING GOODBYE

9 weeks later...

The funeral for Ezra had been the most painful thing Beverley had ever been through. Olivia didn't go. She had a friend watch her. But everyone else that Ezra ever knew came.

There was a coffin with no body in it and a picture of 7 year old Ezra with flowers surrounding it. There were tears from people Beverley didn't even know. It made her mad. How dare they try to even slightly compare the pain she was feeling to theirs. Beverley didn't say a word. To anyone. Not even Jonah as he tried to comfort her. It all felt wrong. She had a sick feeling in her stomach. She had already thrown up before people got there, but she felt like she was going to be sick again.

As the pastor recited a Bible verse, Beverley wiped her eyes. Jonah put his arm around her but didn't say a word. He knew talking was not what she needed.

"And although it is not what we would have hoped, our beloved Ezra has taken an early flight. We say gone, but God says welcome home." Beverley mentally gagged. That made no sense. How could they be saying goodbye to someone they didn't even know was gone or not.

"Would anyone like to say a few words at this time?" The pastor scanned the crowd for volunteers. Beverley had a speech prepared but she didn't know if she could do it. "Yes, ma'am, come on up." Beverley turned around and saw who was making their way to the stage. Ms. Tiller. Tears in her eyes.

She tapped on the mic, causing a loud screeching noise. "Um," she cleared her throat, "m-my name is Natalie Tiller. Seven years ago, I was Ezra's art teacher. Ezra was the best student I had ever had. His creativity inspired all of his classmates and even me. He was always ready to get his hands dirty and make art. He was the sweetest, most intelligent boy I had ever met. It's unfair that he was taken from us so early, but I believe that the life he did live was a beautiful one. One that inspired and left a mark. His talent for art will be admired for years to come. We love you, Ezra. Forever." Ms. Tiller nodded and quickly left the stage.

Beverley sniffed and looked down at her hands, hoping people weren't expecting her to go up there. They weren't.

After Ezra's coffin was lowered into the ground, Beverley stood side by side with Jonah, dismissing every "sorry" that came her way.

Rhonda Simmers approached Beverley. She held her breath. "Beverley," she said with sympathetic eyes. "I am..." she trailed off when she saw the look on Beverley's face. "I wanted to give you something. Um, a lot of artists submit work to be displayed in my gallery, and I just-I never got around to looking at any of them. But I-I found this piece, by Ezra, that he submitted a long time ago...so here..." She pulled a folded up piece of paper out of her blazer pocket and handed it to Beverley. She hesitated before she unfolded the paper. Jonah looked over her shoulder. She covered her mouth when she saw what it was. The picture of the little boy and the dad. Colored in, and signed by him.

"I'll leave you two alone." Rhonda said turning to leave.

"What is that?" Jonah whispered. Beverley sucked in a breath and breathed out slowly.

"A picture...Ezra drew years ago...I had no idea he submitted this." She held the paper close to her heart. And suddenly it hit her. She never got to tell him about his father. He never knew. And now he never would. She began to cry. She buried her face in Jonah's shoulder, her own shaking with ever sob she let out. She let go and kissed the page and whispered, "I'm so sorry, Ezra."

Beverley sat outside the church on a bench after everyone left. She breathed in the damp air deep into her lungs. It had rained during the service. Of course. Her wet eyes had now crusted, leaving them puffy. Her cheeks were red. She thought about Ezra. About his life. Hers. Theirs. She thought about Paul. Everything.

Thoughts whirled in her mind, making her feel nauseous. Had she been a terrible mother? For not telling him about his own dad? For being at the hair salon instead of the bus stop seven years ago? Chills went through her body as she pulled out his drawing from her pocket. She traced her finger over where he had written his name. His neat, beautiful cursive writing. She felt her throat close up.

Another tear slid down her cheek as she realized that it was time to let go. It was time to move on. Her son was really gone. She would see him someday. Someday she would. Soon.