Life On the Fjords

No More

Jamie was brave during the funeral. He stood next to his friends, all weeping and holding hands. None cried as loudly as Pippa's mother. She still could not be helped. She was down on her knees with so many people's hands touching her shoulders, her back, her face.

Please wake up. Please. Jamie kept wishing Pippa would open her eyes as she lied there in the small casket. Inside with her were flowers and autumn leaves from the forest she had grown up playing in. Jamie wanted to move closer and move some of her hair out of her face, but he couldn't dare himself to get closer to her immobile body.

Jamie couldn't hear what the elder was saying with her mother crying so much. He wished she would stop, but he also understood her sadness. He wondered if she would ever be happy again without her daughter. And Jamie, he wondered how he and his friends would ever smile again with Pippa gone.

He was alone, all alone, though Jack was standing behind him and he still had his sister and close friends. Pippa was the one who could comprehend his emotions. If he tried to explain them to Caleb, Claude, Monty, or even Mary, they weren't understood.

It was a beautiful day as if all was well. The heavens did not care who had left earth or who stayed behind. Sunny, but freezing. Pippa's amber hair caught the morning light. Soon, it would never be kissed by the sun again.

As they buried the tiny coffin below the earth's surface, a flock of birds flew overhead, heading south. Jamie watched them... Was Pippa free now? Was she a bird? Jack had said Pippa's soul would not be far away, but he couldn't feel her anywhere.

Jack's focus turned to the childless woman that was on her knees and wrapped in black funeral clothes. Her hair was almost as red as Pippa's but had started to dull from age. Grief would age her quickly. He wasn't certain she'd ever have children again—she hadn't remarried since her husband died. She couldn't bring herself to love another as she had him. She didn't believe she could ever give her love to another child... Not even if they were her own.

I could be her. Jack somberly mused. That could have been Jamie or Mary in that coffin. He knew the love of a child well... And soon, he would recognize what the difference between a brother's love and a father's was. His hands left the shoulders of his two siblings only so he could cradle the bereft woman. So far, only women had come to her side to kiss her cheeks, stroke her hair, whisper 'stay strong.' Jack was the first man to approach her, carrying equal empathy as all the other mothers around her had.

"Pippa was wonderful." He whispered. "She was lucky to have you."

She wrapped her arms around him and his neck and shoulder were littered with her tears. No, she was lucky to have Pippa. Every parents' reason to live was because of their child. If Pippa had not been born right after her father died, her mother may not have been able to cope.

The children went into the forest and stood in a circle, holding hands. They said a prayer they'd learned in school, hoping that Pippa could hear them and know how much they missed her. Jamie and Mary were among them, but Jamie didn't even mouth the words with them.

Pippa was dead. She couldn't hear them anymore.

...

The night had come.

Jack was in Mary and Jamie's bedroom, waiting for them to fall asleep. He sat in a chair between their beds, both an arm's reach away. He ran his fingers through Mary's hair, wishing he could take away their pain. Jack was experiencing guilt of his own—guilt for feeling lucky that his siblings were all right. He was in the room for half-an-hour, and then he stood up and made sure they were both tucked in their blankets.