The funeral was quiet, understated. It was what James would have wanted. No grand speeches, no mourners wailing in grief. Just a handful of people who had loved him—his closest friends, the few who had truly known him. And Evelyn.
She stood there, at the gravesite, surrounded by the faint hum of life moving around her, the soft murmur of voices, the rustle of leaves as the wind swept through the trees. Everything felt so far away, like she was watching it all from a distance, as though she were in a dream.
James was gone. The man who had shown her what love was—quiet, steady, and deep—was no longer there, and yet, it felt like part of him still lingered. His absence was all-encompassing, but she could still feel his presence in every corner of her heart, in every whispered memory.
The air was still, thick with unspoken things. The finality of the moment was overwhelming, yet Evelyn couldn't bring herself to cry any longer. The tears had already fallen, leaving her dry-eyed, yet hollow inside. She had wept enough to flood the world, but no amount of tears would ever fill the space he had left behind.
They lowered the casket slowly, the sound of the earth hitting wood like a heavy drumbeat in her chest. Evelyn reached up to wipe the tears that had once again begun to streak down her cheeks, feeling the cold sting of reality in the touch. It was over. He was gone.
And she was still here.
A soft hand found her shoulder, and she turned to see Alice, her closest friend, standing beside her. Alice hadn't spoken much during the service, as though she understood that this moment belonged entirely to Evelyn. But now, she offered her a quiet comfort, her presence a silent reassurance that Evelyn wasn't alone in this.
"How are you holding up?" Alice asked softly, her voice gentle and understanding.
Evelyn didn't answer immediately. She stared at the fresh mound of earth, the last physical mark of James's time on this world. It felt so wrong, so final. Yet there was something oddly peaceful about it too, like he had finally found rest. He had been fighting for so long, battling against something that couldn't be beaten. But now, there was no more pain for him, no more fear.
"I'm…" Evelyn hesitated, searching for the words that didn't seem to come. "I'm still here, Alice. I don't know how to be here without him."
Alice nodded, her hand resting on Evelyn's arm in a gesture of solidarity. "You don't have to figure it all out right now. You just have to take it one moment at a time."
Evelyn glanced at her friend, appreciating the kindness in her eyes. She hadn't needed anyone to say anything profound to make her feel better. She hadn't expected to find comfort in words. But Alice's presence was something solid, something Evelyn could hold onto when the world felt too overwhelming.
The crowd slowly dispersed after the ceremony, the soft murmur of their conversations fading as they each returned to their own lives. Evelyn stayed for a moment longer, watching the gravestone as if she could still see him there, still hear his voice in the air.
But there was nothing left. Just the silence.
And her. Alone.
It wasn't the first time she had felt alone. But it was the first time that "alone" had felt so complete. So total.
Evelyn took a deep breath, feeling the cold air fill her lungs. The chill was refreshing, almost grounding. She turned away from the grave, walking slowly toward the car where Alice was waiting for her.
As she walked, memories of James filled her mind. His laughter, soft and warm; the way his eyes had looked at her with such intensity, as though he saw her in a way no one else could. How they had spent hours simply sitting together, talking about nothing and everything, their hearts beating in time with each other.
The future they had talked about had never come to pass. The dreams they had shared were now just memories, fading with each passing day. And yet, Evelyn realized with a pang of grief that the love they had would never truly fade.
She didn't know what came after death, but she was certain that the love she had for James would remain. In the quiet moments, in the smallest things—like the way the light hit a room, or the sound of a favorite song—he would be there. Not in the way he had been, not physically, but in the part of her that had been irrevocably changed because of him.
And that was enough.
She reached the car, and Alice opened the door for her, giving her a small, comforting smile. "You ready to go?"
Evelyn nodded, stepping into the warmth of the car, the engine humming softly as they began to drive. The road stretched out before them, and for a long while, neither of them spoke.
Evelyn was grateful for the quiet.
The days that followed were difficult. Grief had a way of sneaking up on her, catching her off guard, even when she thought she had it under control. There were moments when it felt like she couldn't breathe, when the weight of losing James threatened to crush her. But as the months passed, something shifted in her. Something subtle, but undeniable.
She began to find a new rhythm to life. It wasn't easy. There were days when she still picked up her phone to call him, only to remember he wasn't there. There were nights when she couldn't sleep, her mind racing with all the things she hadn't said, all the moments they hadn't shared. But through it all, she carried him with her. The love he had given her had carved its place in her heart, and though it hurt to remember him, it also filled her with something warm, something that had once been so fragile but now felt like a steady flame.
And so, she continued. She smiled at the memories of him. She carried on, one step at a time, learning how to live in the world without him, but always, always carrying him with her.
One day, she found herself standing in front of his favorite café, the one they had frequented during their time together. It had been months since she had come here, but the memory of their laughter, their quiet conversations, still lingered in the air.
Evelyn smiled softly, stepping inside. The barista behind the counter greeted her with a warm smile, and Evelyn found herself ordering their usual drink, the one she had shared with him countless times before. As she took her seat by the window, she realized that it didn't hurt as much to be here, to be without him.
She could still feel his presence in the world. Not in the physical way, but in the way he had changed her. She wasn't the same person she had been before him. He had shown her how to love deeply, how to open her heart and accept the rawness of life, even when it meant facing the greatest loss she could imagine.
And as the sun set, casting a golden light across the room, Evelyn realized something important.
James was gone, but his love, his spirit, had never truly left her.
It was inside her, and always would be.