It was a quiet day when he died. Fitting of the man he had been in life. Nothing seemed to disturb the calm grey skies that promised a day of slight humidity and no blazing sunlight. A wonderful atmosphere for a funeral. John sat quietly on a bench, far removed from the crying mass huddled around a deep hole in the ground. No tears were present on his face, only a mask. That mask being on he had forced himself to create; to guide his interaction with the family. After all, it was much more fitting of his situation than being a mess, weeping to his gone mother and father. He had spent most of his time alone in this world, only disturbed by a brief reprieve in the care of the old man. Though he never treated him with the respect he deserved, the old man never complained. Only smiled. John thought often of the anger and hollowness that must be so professionally hidden. Only after he had seen the expression of him after his breath had long left did he reflect on it; understanding there was no mask over his behavior, much unlike himself.
'Disgraceful.'
John looked up into the face of a lady standing over him. She was nearing fifty in appearance and wore a long black overcoat. Her face held an expression of disdain. Scrunching her already short nose even further. Her coat, shoes, and the way she used them to walk -hunched over a cane as it was- gave an air of nobility. Utterly unbecoming of John, the epitome of common wealth and standing.
'Do you not know, or care, of the care he showed you? Neither myself nor his father found him any less insane for this than a man in the institution. No matter to him, of course. Rather he drown himself in his so-called "morals" than accept his role. Foolish man. I loved him so. And you, you share no grief? How? It makes much more sense to me now why he has passed. May you ask his soul for forgiveness in heaven, under the eye of the lord. He shall know you! Shall damn you in a way I cannot! That is my conclusion.'
John watched the lady walk away to join the rest of the sad, dejected parade of family.
'They say I wear a mask; none of them are any different. Pretending to be inconsolable at the benefit of only their image. No foolish man he was, my caretaker; I only regret it took me so long to realize. Truly it puts forward a question: what is the worth we seek? The love we desire? Is not all of it subject to worldly desires. The very precipice of a relation is the attraction between two people: whether it be in spirit or in being. My wretched self, taken in off the streets by a man wise and caring beyond his years… and here I sit. Watching as the man who treated me like family experiences the true values of his own. Love is powerful, yet only strong people may recognize it, for greed has taken the weak; leaving them to isolation, and the realms of insecurity.'
After all of the guests had left, climbing into their fancy cars and having servants serve them drinks, John sat alone. He watched the spot marked by a stone; sat atop a pile of dirt. He sat and stared with an expression uncouth of a man who had lost his hope; his one figure of fatherhood and stability. So it would have taken many a person by surprise when the man cried out softly. Raising his head to the sky.
'If you have made it, to that blessed land, may you send me an angel; so I may offer my apologies? I have known loss, but not so much as this; as until realized, true value speaks nothing of itself other than the tune it plays as farewell. Forgive me if I sully this fine day… with a few drops of rain.'
John leaned back and smiled, looking up at the sky. His eyes starting to cloud with the tears he had not had the courage to shed only hours earlier. Watching the clouds slowly part through the warped glass of his vision, a red dot flew by in a rush. Startling John, he turned toward the direction it had gone. There, sitting on a limb, was a cardinal. It turned its head to look at him, and broke into song. John's smile grew wider. The lord had sent for him a representation of himself and his desire to speak again to the angel who blessed him so. The true cardinal of God. Not in any way undermined by the position within his home, his worship, his church. After all, there was perhaps a reason why it had been named after a bird so painted in color; why the robes of red were worn among the marbled edifice of faith to him. To all.
'Thank you. For sending me my angel, with these tears I confess, and with this smile I apologize. With your song, I forgive. I thank you, for giving me the courage to realize myself, and how I have affected those around me. I shall see you at the gates, when it is my time; this time I will take care of you, for as long as we exist.'