Funeral (Short)

At the funeral, they will ask of you.
“how’d you know her?” and a plethora of when and how.
They will dig just as deep as the grief inlaid in the lines of your face, the solemn calm you attempt to carry will only draw attention to your obviously manifested strength.
You will not utter a word, but for to condole those weeping.
You forgo the urge to let loose your tears-but the warmth is in your cheeks, burning a crimson rose to contrast the pale skin against the black.
You wore black, of course. To blend in among the others- to not draw attention. But you stick out for lack of relation, your relativity is unbeknownst to the others in the room.
“She died alone,” the old woman mutters, her voice trembles for the loss. Her eyes are on you, and your heart begins to race an unsteady pace, and it’s pulsing through your façade.
You grow still. As deathly still as the cold body in the casket. The red leaves your cheeks and yet the urge to cry only grows.
“Did you know her?” she asks. You feel her eyes split you open like a young blossom, pealing away the layers to unearth your inner color.
You look blankly at her- silent, still and empty of everything but the desire to scream…… yet you don’t.
You cannot tell her you were my lover- you cannot weep for my dying ’alone’ when you carry the very ring that would have been worn 4th finger, in the pocket of your suit. You cannot explain the emotions you felt and still feel- and how lost you are without the one to whom they belong.
Your head falls, and slowly you step aside, until you are center in the room. The eyes of friends and family watch as you make your way up the steps and reach into your pocket. You take the hand of the girl you fell in love with, and slide the solitaire upward, unntil the gold band is secure around my finger.
Three words in your head. I can hear them.
You never say them aloud- but they can hear them.
You leave. The moment you make it past the car door, they rush down your face. An eruption of anger and regret and sorrrow beyond what you throught possible. How could you let her die alone?
You wish the words came sooner, you wish you validated each moment, each memory, each second of her light you shared.
You wish that you didn’t need an introduction, or an explanation- you wanted them all to know. No… you didn’t care if they knew, but you wanted me to know.
Three words in your head, I can hear them. I swear I heard them all along. I did not die alone, I died in-love. I died in-love.
At my funeral, they will ask of you.
You will give every detail away-and my light will be with you and never fade.

-Meg

While driving home this evening- I wrote this. I spoke each word aloud-and deemed them worthy to write down.