One week until premonition.
The church bells chimed but instead of instilling happiness in the residents of Harrow Hall, it brought sadness washing over as a cold wind brushed through town. The temperature had dropped to such a degree that people were donning their fall jackets despite the fact that it was so close to summer, but the wind tricked us into thinking otherwise. A slow procession made its way out of the Christ Church of Harrow Hall, lining the steps as everyone began to look back at the doors. The hearse waited at the bottom of the steps with the back doors wide open, waiting to greet the coffin which now made its appearance as the pallbearers gently took their time leading down to the vehicle. I watched as Michael, Dorothy's one and only son, led the procession with tears streaking his gentle cheeks, his eyes deep and forlorn as he carried the coffin which held his now deceased mother. The pallbearers carefully placed the casket in the back of the hearse, while Michael joined the funeral director in the vehicle as they drove away to the site of internment. One by one the cars began to follow the hearse to the cemetery, until everyone found a place to park. Once more they carried Dorothy's casket to her final resting place, which was in an ideal little spot by a big oak tree.
The priest gave a very short graveside sermon about Dorothy's life before he blessed her to the earth, lowering her six feet under to be one with nature once more. I couldn't help but notice that despite the pain that marked Marie's face, she was smiling as she wiped away the tears from her eyes. She knew Dorothy was in a better place, wherever that may be, and that she was no longer in pain from the cancer that riddled her body for so long. What I found odd about the entire situation was that Marie decided to stay near the back of the crowd, despite the fact that she deserved to be up close and grieving with Dorothy's family. She felt that she didn't have to prove her love to anyone because at the end of Dorothy's life, she was able to show her just that. My heart warmed at this thought, taking my leave from the cemetery as soon as they began to pile the dirt on Dorothy's casket.
I had been to a lot of funerals, most of which I had seen the upcoming death for, but I never felt that the years of attending them had left me untainted from the pain that comes with saying goodbye for a final time. If anything, I felt more connected to the funerals than I was able to admit. I kept wondering if there were ways I could make their ending different, if there was some way I could change it – and if that was the case, how could I do just that? I had tried before and failed, but was I missing something?
We all went to Victor Bernadine's house for the reception where everyone brought foods for the potluck lunch, joining together to share in personal memories of the deceased as well as to give comfort to the family. I wasn't going to stay long but I wanted to at least get the chance to speak to Michael again to give him my condolences once more. He seemed to be in better spirits now as he was surrounded by love, friends, and family, but I could see that he was merely pressing down the pain that was eagerly trying to escape once more.
I tried to listen in on many of the stories being shared by people who had known Dorothy, hearing from people who had been in her life when she was nothing but a young girl and up til the moment she passed. I reflected on the good that Dorothy had done for people around her, how her heart was always open and her mind willing – she was a good woman and there were many praises to be said about her. I was happy to have helped her and Marie reunite, but that was a story that I had to hold close to my heart. I wished that people could know how happy they made each other, but instead I relished on the fact that I was able to witness only a fraction of the love they shared.
For the next week, I tried not to focus on the fact that soon I would be attending my second funeral of the year – John's. My heart was aching despite how hard I tried not to think about losing him, but it hurt to know that we had such a short time together. I busied myself with work, helped Elaine regain her strength so that she could perform at the dance recital, and spent every free second with John. The time I had with John I cherished, taking every moment to show him how much I cared about him and that I was definitely falling in love with him, too. We spent a lot of time over at Alexandra Park feeding the birds and laying back in the grass, sometimes spending all evening there until there was nothing but a sheet of black sky and twinkling stars to keep us company. I loved listening to him talk about his childhood with his parents, reminiscing on the heartwarming moments they all had together before the accident. Even when he spoke about his mother now, with a sense of resignation to the fact that things would never go back to the way they were, he still spoke so highly of her. One of the many things I loved about John was how big his heart was and how close he held people to it, it left me envious that I hadn't been as heartfelt to the people I loved as he had. If anything, I wished I could be more like John, because there are so few people on this earth who contribute as positively as he does – and I admire that about him. Someone like John doesn't deserve to leave this world prematurely.