A week and a half had passed since he found her at the foot of the bed. The image still crystal clear in his dreams. He remembers how it felt to have all the happiness drained out of him and then to be filled with extreme sadness.
He sits in the front of the service with her family. It was a small gathering at the cemetery. She didn’t have many friends, but there were people he knew that cared for her enough to want to be there. It was hell inviting them though. Each time he almost broke on the phone, being forced to remember she wasn’t here anymore.
He wanted to reach out and touch her face as she lay in the casket. He wanted her to wriggle from his touch the way she would when he used to wake her up to go to work. The pastor had finished talking for the body and invited friends and family to offer up their words. Her parents spoke together, then an old friend from college. It was his turn now.
He choked so much during his eulogy that most of it was barely audible. Everyone cried for and with him. His pain was so evident. It was the love of his life. Now gone. He finished and stood in place at his seat. He looked at his love. She was still beautiful.
The casket closed. He felt his heart breaking. They began to lower it into the ground. His heart broke some more. After some time it was buried under six feet of dirt. He felt cold. As if sharing the experience, he felt as though he too were buried. He gasped for air.
Her mother held his shoulder and sat him down. She kissed his forehead and told him that it was going to be alright. With time. She told him that he would always be welcomed at her home. Her husband nodded in agreement. The heartbroken lover smiled at them and thanked them.
“Suicide doesn’t end the pain, it just passes it on to someone else.” The James Kirkup quote resounded in his head over and over. The pain she must have felt was unbearable because he could barely take it. He just sat in his car, lost. Not knowing what to do next.