The air was grim and cold; the sky threatened to rain on the quaint little flower set-up at the funeral. These flowers were decorated in a circle, ranging from daisies to lilacs, morning glories, and of course, roses. They surrounded a smiling picture of Mr Vlamorae's late wife, Cecelia; the entire decoration stood happily next to the pit which comprised the ominous casket, despite the current event. The flower wreath was like that one small light of sunshine amidst a dark rainy day.
The pastor spoke solemnly as he read the transcript from the bible, but Mr Vlamorae paid no mind; he was too immersed within his thoughts and barely even paying attention to the kicking baby in his arms.
Tae seemed to be the only happy child there, flailing her limbs in all directions and squealing indecipherable noises randomly. Her light greenish-silver eyes were bright with happiness and her cheeks were flushed red and warm despite the cold day. Vlamorae envied her naivety and wished he could be just as oblivious to the situation as his daughter was but, alas... he couldn't.
As much as the baby tried to get her father's attention, Mr Vlamorae ignored her and stared ahead at the casket, which was now in the midst of being buried by the handfuls of dirt relatives and close friends tossed onto it. Among these faces, who were now unfamiliar to the man in his grief-stricken state, were some of Vlamorae's friends. They were there for the small family when they needed aid but now, after throwing a respectful amount of dirt in, would depart in their carriages to never be heard from again. Only a few would linger to shake Vlamorae's hand and wish him kind words of condolences.
His friends left together very quickly, and Vlamorae was soon alone with his wife's family.
Although, one friend of his still remained: Brian MacSeren and his son Reginald. An odd pair, Vlamorae thought, but still, they were good people and meant well.
"Hey... Charles... Sorry about your wife, I know how much she meant to you," Brian apologised sympathetically, placing a calloused, cold hand on the man's shoulder. Vlamorae only nodded and continued to blankly stare ahead. Tae started to cry with his lack of attention.
The young boy, whose name was Reggie, looked at the baby in curiosity for a few seconds, before looking up at his father and asking quietly, "Da, is tha' the babby?"
MacSeren gave an emotionless chuckle, "Ah, I'm afraid we haven't been introduced to the new addition!"
Vlamorae finally shifted his eyes to meet the man's gaze but it was not a kind one, "Her name is Tae'..." he answered monotonously. MacSeren smiled awkwardly at his friend's "enthusiasm" and, feeling as if he were put on the spot by Vlamorae's harsh stare, he fidgeted uncomfortably and cleared his throat in an attempt to break the tension.
"Well, Reggie and I have to go, my circus has a show tonight and I'd rather not be late. I'm sorry for your loss, Charles and it was nice meeting your daughter,"- and just like that, the pair was gone. Mr Vlamorae had nearly forgotten about MacSeren's circus; that ridiculous tent he calls a Big Top and his pitiful cast he thinks are the next big thing... absolutely preposterous.
...
By the end of the day, Mr Vlamorae was being driven home in a horse-drawn carriage by his wife's father. He was feeling thankful that someone would do this for him, especially since his wife's father was quite possibly feeling much more grief than he was.
Tae wiggled in Vlamorae's arms, signalling the man that his child had just woken up. Mr Vlamorae looked down at his daughter in a stoic manner, and the baby babbled noises back.
He sighed eventually after a period of staring and shushed the baby gently as he brought the small baby over his shoulder and patted her back to soothe her. All was serene as the carriage swayed back and forth and passed happy clusters of people, revelling in their gaiety while they chatted and strolled down the pavement. The sight made Vlamorae glare out the carriage window as the thought of happiness made his heart pang painfully in his chest.
When Vlamorae and his daughter arrived home, he got out of the carriage and stood in front of his door, wanting to open it and see his wife in the kitchen, but knowing he'll be alone.
"Hey, Charles... I'm sorry for your loss; I know how much she meant to you," his wife's father, Mr Windsler apologised, a tired look in his old eyes and a deep frown that carved into his features and made him seem a whole thirty years older than he was. Vlamorae turned to him solemnly.
"No... I should be the one who is sorry... she was your daughter, after all..."
Mr Windsler looked up at the dreary clouds for a few seconds as if he might find his next sentence there before drifting his eyes down to Tae, "But to be burdened with such a task as raising a child all alone... May Cecelia's spirit guide you through those times of trouble," Vlamorae sighed, agreeing with the man's mannerisms to wish him luck, he may not know how hard it is to raise a child, but he could make an educated assumption.
"Thanks..." Vlamorae started, "Godspeed," Mr Windsler nodded solemnly, shaking Vlamorae's hand to assure their friendship and leaving without another word.
The man stepped inside his house with Tae, eerily silent in his arms as if wondering what he was going to do next. The house seemed more claustrophobic to him, it seemed emptier than before and silent to a point where it was uncanny.
Vlamorae sighed again and went to put Tae back in her crib, he was exhausted from the long day, and he was sure Tae was too. So he walked up the steps, put Tae to bed, then put himself to bed as well, falling asleep with the image of his wife lying next to him as if nothing had ever happened.