Jason's POV
Doing this was hard. I'd entered the cathedral alone for a reason. I looked over at the casket that held my beloved wife. She wore a lovely red dress and her hair flowed perfectly at the peak of her shoulder. I paused.
Breath in. Breath out.
I just sat there, hyperventilating for almost 3 minutes. I needed to breath before I spoke to her. After that exchange, I rose from the bench and made my way over to Emma.
"Hey." A tear lingered in my left eye. "You. I miss you." I let the water fall from my tear duct. "And.. I love you...and I need you.." As I went, tumbling towards the ground, strong hands grabbed me.
"It's going to be okay son." Dad? He dragged me to a seat. "I'm sorry." It was said low, in an almost whisper. I shook.
No you're not.
"Yes. I am. I am sorry. For you, and my grandson." He said, as if on cue. "I just... I don't know what I'd do without... If this ever happened to..." he was struggling. After all my 27 years of knowing this man, never had I seen him so choked up. He was quiet at most time, but when he spoke it took no effort. He was almost remorseless with words. Shows no mercy or guilt in anything he said, no matter how harsh. He spoke ruthlessly.
We sat in silence. It was almost comforting. Almost. "I can't imagine being you right now. Without your mom..." he sighed and more tears left my eyes. "I'm not sure if this is what you want, or need, to hear right now, but you have to hear it eventually. If your mom was dead, I would be too. She's my all, and I'm lost without her... But our kids are adults. Yours isn't. Unfortunately, you have a child, a 3 year old..." He paused, then continued, "A motherless boy."
That struck a cord. Did he think I didn't know that already? No shit, Dad. Maybe he was coming to ends with that fact. Or maybe he wanted to rub the "bad" choices that I made in my face. (Well, in his opinion.) Closing my eyes, I let that set in.
"I'm not going to lie to you son. I wasn't Emma's biggest fan. But that doesn't mean that I don't love you, or that I want this. I'd never wish this upon anyone. It's horrible and I want you to know that I'm here for you. I've been distant, strict, and not the best sport, but all out of love."
People began to flood the church. My father lifted both himself and I and we walked to the back of the cathedral. Everyone got in line and I was place in front, beside my son. He held Teddy and looked towards me with bright eyes. The music began, and we marched in. I could feel my parents eyes on me as I struggled to walk to my seat. I finally made it, and threw little Jake into my lap. He played aimlessly with Teddy.
After the stuffed toy no longer caught his attention, he looked up. Suddenly, he was screaming, "Look, Daddy! It's Mommy! I thought you said she went to heaven! She's right there!" He leaped from my lap and ran towards her. I broke down again into a puddle of mush. Mom walked over and scooped him up, apologizing to the audience. I was sobbing wildly, but I muffled myself with my hands.
The service slugged by. It was time for family to speak and I wasn't prepared. I didn't even know I was going to speak, but I volunteered to do so last minute. As I stood in front of the microphone, I winced. Looking up, I blinked through tears. The crowd waited patiently.
"Why we're here? I have no clue. But I do know that I..."-I paused to breath out-"...I love her. She is special." I smiled at the memories that flooded my brain. "She would always click her tongue when I did something stupid. To be honest, that would be what she'd be doing right now." I felt the wound in my heart opening further and further as reality hit. I took an extremely long pause. The audience stayed silent, but I could see the pity, and sadness that seeped into the expressions of family members that I hadn't seen in a very long time. I even saw those looks in the faces of complete strangers. "I'm sorry." I stepped from the podium, with help from Pastor Green, and made my way to my seat.
The tears fell, and they weren't sad tears. They were tears of rage, and hopelessness for the years to come. I looked towards Jake who eyed me with question and confusion. He didn't understand and I knew that. You can't expect a 3 year old to understand why his mother wasn't there anymore, and why she would no longer read to him at night. You could just hold him as he grew, and pray for the best.
There was an excruciating pain in my abdomen, but I ignored it. It lingered as people left the church, preparing for a burial. I stayed put. I knew my parents were staring, and I knew that Jake was fumbling, but I ignored all those things. Even after the people came to put Emma in the hearse, I stared aimlessly.
Soon enough, Jenny took Jake, her husband, and Dad towards the rest of the family to greet them. Mom stayed with me. I wanted her to leave me here to wallow in misery. "Son..." she began, but I cut her short.
"She's gone?" The question had to be answered by someone who wasn't me. My brain told me yes, but I still needed confirmation.
"Yes."
"So she's never coming back?"
She hesitated. "No."
You can accept it now. I told myself, but I knew it was a lie. I'd never be able to accept the fact that God took away the most precious being that ever walked this earth. I couldn't accept the fact that I'm left alone with no home, no money, no wife, and a son who has to be raised by a man who lacks all the things needed to be a good parent.
"We can get you help." I felt my face twist between anger, fear, and confusion.
"What?" I just looked at her, horrified.
"There's a lot of places that you can go. For help I mean. This isn't good. I don't want you hurting yourself." My face didn't change. This woman was legit.
I rose from my seat. "Let's just go bury my wife. I'm not going anywhere." I didn't say the last part for her, I said it for me.
*************
The burial was brutal torture. After the original blessing was done by the priest, I broke down completely. I let everything loose. I was on my knees, begging for her return. I couldn't, nor did I try to, prevent this breakdown. It was long overdue. The reception after the funeral dragged on and on and on. People outside of my bedroom were laughing and smiling like everything is okay. It's not.
Nothing would get me moving now. Even Jake came to get me up and about, but it didn't work. He tugged and scream and kicked until he couldn't anymore. I wanted to pull him into my arms and tell him that it is all going to be fine. But both me and Emma promised not to lie to our children. And I wasn't going to lie to him. Well, not fully.
Even my best friend, Derrick couldn't get anything out of me. He stood above me and didn't move. "I'll just sit with you than." He mumbled. And that's what he did. He just sat with me, no words, nothing. I was nothing but grateful. That's all I wanted at this point; someone to fake-give-up with. Someone to falsely give up on life with me.
Someone to try to fake the pain with me.
