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The Funeral

Benjamin

The sunshine brilliantly on Chobham today. Not a single cloud is seen above us. As if they conspire to show me how the world will always go on without her. It shouldn't. Everything should be as grey and foggy as my emotions, it should be cold and damp with silent air. But the birds still sing and the flowers still bloom. I'm not ashamed. I loved her. 

The funeral is filled with faces that I don't recognise. Few friends from college are here, along with her family. The coffin is pulled from the hearse by six men, all wearing suits, including me, Alex, Ted, and Adam.  The silence dwells as we enter the church. It wobbles as we carry it to the front and gently place it down. We stand at the front of the funeral. Everyone's heads are down. Maybe it's them showing respect of maybe they're too afraid to look at what is coming.

The coffin is dark-stained cherry and it's perfectly polished. It has a cushioned and silky lining. It seems inviting and it's good to know that at least she's resting in a comfortable place.

I've been trying to keep myself together since yesterday until they pass a picture of Charlie and that's when all the memories come flooding back like a tidal wave. Her face seems so alive and happy and I can't help but wonder what she looks like under that close wooden box. I stare blankly at it hoping that a miracle would happen and she would rise again and come back to the world, come back to us. But nothing happens. She is gone. 

It's crazy how things can turn upside down for you. You see the person every day and suddenly, they're gone and when they go, a part of you goes with them too. Who knows where she is going to end up if there even heaven. I like to believe that the place is inviting and calm and there's nothing but good in it. 

The preacher begins to read a passage. My eyes become wet, yet I don't realize I'm crying until my ribs begin to heave like they suddenly weight too much to allow breathing. I can see everyone is struggling to hold back the grief. Tears are flowing steadily down their cheeks. I feel numb and empty. But I believe everyone does too.

They asked me to give a short speech in memory of her. At first, I refused to do it but I think I'm going to tell them who and how she was in my point of view. 

As they open the coffin, I could see her laying there in peace. She looks weak but beautiful with a pink dress and flower bucket. 

"Charlie was my best friend. A loyal and great listener friend," I say, looking back at the crowd of people with puffy red eyes. "She was always willing to help me whenever I faced difficulties and she's always been a good support. She had the ability to look at the bright side even in the darkest of the situation. Losing her today is like losing half of me, half of us. She's too young to go and I wish I could give her many more years for her to live her dreams. I don't have a lot to say for her. I just wish we all could let her go and hope she'll be happy out there. I love you, Charlie. Always will, always have."

By the time we take her to the cemetery, we still trying to say goodbye although she is gone already like our soul is unwilling to acknowledge the finality of death. Melody is only ten years old and unaffected by death. A little innocent light with so much joy. But that change too soon and I hate it.

"No! Stop! Don't bury her, please!" She screams. The people who aren't already crying allowed tears to drip down their faces. "Stop it!" She screams, tears streaming down her face.

I bend down and hug her, "Melody, Charlie's gone." I whisper. "We won't be able to see her again." Melody cuddles me and wails. I stroke her hair and her back lovingly. That just overpowers me. I start crying causing a chain reaction in the small group. Soon everyone who loved Charlie is sobbing uncontrollably.

Slowly her coffin gets lowered into the hole. The closest relatives take turns with the spade, covering her inch by inch with dirt.

"Good-bye, Charlie, my love," I say for myself.