Burning Wild

Chapter Thirty-Two

It doesn't rain often in southern California, but on the day that we buried Jake, there was a torrential downpour. I stared at the overcast skies, watching in a daze as the cool drops fell from the dark clouds and landed on my deadened face. The rain reminded me of my own tears, which never seemed to end. It was as if even the heavens mourned the loss of such a good man.

Jake's funeral was beautiful. I wasn't much help in the process, as I couldn't see beyond my selfish grief. I think a part of me knew that having the wake would finalize things; that having to say goodbye would make Jake's death official. I didn't want to be reminded that he was gone.

I still half expected to hear his laughter as we danced clumsily in the kitchen; hear his beautiful voice singing along to the songs on the radio; feel his lips on my skin as he made sweet love to me. If I had known we were so close to the end, perhaps I would have savored those moments, and made each one of them last just a little longer. It was hard for me to acknowledge that those were just distant memories now.

Mariana coordinated the things spectacularly. The mahogany coffin and white roses were subtle and classic. Dwayne's eulogy was beautifully written, reminiscing about the days when he and Jake were both rookies being hazed by the rest of the firehouse.

Dwayne also reminded us of the countless people who were alive because of Jake's valor, and my heart swelled with pride. I had the opportunity to meet a few of the individuals he had saved during his time with the fire department. I left the funeral home even more in awe of him than I already was.

I didn't know if I could bear to see Jake with the life drained from his body, to know that I would never see his dark brown eyes staring lovingly at me ever again. But I knew I had to have that closure before I could accept the fact that he was gone. So with a deep breath, I walked to the front of the church to say my goodbyes.

As I stood by the casket, I realized that the most beautiful thing about the funeral was, by far, Jake himself. Even in death, he found a way to be the most handsome man in the room.

He was dressed in the charcoal suit that he'd worn on our first date. His face was paler than I was used to, and there were still scars on his body from the fire, but other than that, he was still the gorgeous man who had burst through my flaming bedroom door six months ago.

I had never seen him look as peaceful as he did in this everlasting slumber. If I didn't know any better, I would swear that his mouth was turned up, just slightly, in his signature crooked smile. As excruciating as saying goodbye was, it eased my pain to know that Jake had found respite from this cruel world.

As we walked to the gravesite, the rain picked up. Most people covered their heads or opened an umbrella, but I basked in the storm. I allowed it to cleanse the anguish that suffocated my heart as the last shovelful of dirt was piled onto the mound where Jake's casket now lay.

Through the hazy deluge, my eyes drifted to a young girl and her mother, sobbing several yards away. I recognized them from the article the local newspaper had published about Jake's death. This young girl, with her golden pigtails and bright blue eyes, gripping her teddy bear against her chest, was the one Jake had gone back through the fire for, the one that he had lost his life to save.

As I stared at the girl, I saw all of the things that the world still had to offer her. Because of Jake, she would get to grow up and experience life. She would feel the nervous butterflies of her first date and would attend her high school prom. She would go to college and give back to others, perhaps becoming a life-saving surgeon, or teaching the next generation. This was the gift that Jake had given her- the chance to live. He traded his life for hers, knowing she still had so much to look forward to. That was enough to bring meaning to his life, and the realization brought me peace.