Moving on Memories

Moving on Memories

ans

A tear rolled down my cheek as a lay a single white rose on Lyle’s chest. His black tux was perfectly placed, his face serene, beautiful, and cold. I brushed my hand over his strong jaw.

“Heartly? Heart, you okay?” My best friends Ember and Moona asked from behind me.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I said softly as I slid my hand over the edge of the casket and looked back one more time at the love of my life lying there in a coffin. His face perfect, the funeral home had done a good job at covering the spots were he’d been beat up in the wreck. At that point I lost all the control I had. I turned and ran through the church and bust through the doors at the end. My tears mixed with the rain pouring from the sky.

The pain in my heart made me collapse onto the ground, shoving gravel into my hands and knees, but the pain from that had nothing on what I was feeling inside.

And I stayed like that, crying in the pouring rain, without the one thing in the world that could make me be happy or laugh and find sunshine on a cloudy day. Without my love, my Lyle.

I don’t know how long I sat there, clutching myself to try to ease my pain, in the middle of the old church parking lot on the day of my husbands funeral with rain pouring down on top of me, but I was relieved when I felt two sets of arms wrap around me.

I knew without looking that it was Moona and Ember; they never had to say anything to comfort me.

We sat there for a few minutes; they held me as I cried the remainder of whatever tears I had. When I finally had enough energy to collect myself, we stood up and walked back into the Red Hill Church. This one building held so many memories for me; being baptized as a little girl and falling off the little swing right afterwards, getting married to Lyle, and now burying him.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

That night I lay awake, alone in my bed. The house was quiet and empty. The emptiness was what got to me. I could pretend over and over again that Lyle was just out for a while and would be back soon, or he was in Chicago visiting his parents, or he was just downstairs, finishing developing pictures or mixing some type of song that we had made together. But, the sad truth was that he was gone, for good. I would never hear his laugh again, or see his smile. I would never be able to kiss him again or hug him. We would never stay up until 3 or 4 in the morning writing songs, we wouldn’t ever go out and take completely random photos for no reason at all. We would never be together again.

I didn’t sleep that night. I cried until the sun came up the next morning and then cried some more. I could feel my heart broken into a million pieces, and most of them were buried in the Red Hill Cemetery.