The majority of people who attend funerals expect some kind of clichéd bad weather. There are those who seem to feel that it's more suitable, as if the weather itself should be mourning their loss. Alas, weather did not lament or rejoice for anyone or anything.
But today, one could argue that it did.
The grey clouds seemed to ripple across the dark sky, while torrents of stinging rain fell heavily to the ground. Those attending the funeral clutched desperately onto the handles of the umbrellas, while they writhed and twisted with the wind. The words of the pastor were drowned out by the booming thunder and screeching wind, and those attending tried frantically to hear his words of comfort.
Nobody noticed the lone figure joining the edge of the huddling crowd, staring intensely at the coffin being lowered into the ground. A sad smile fell across their features as they shook their head slightly. They knew that everyone was thinking the same thing.
What a waste.
Nobody in the crowd knew why the boy had taken his own life. He'd had a good family, lots of friends and was achieving well in his school. His friends could not construct a reason as to why he had done it. In fact, he'd been quite the cheerful sort of guy.
But a cheerful guy does not consume over thirty painkillers.
All anyone could do now was hypothesise that the reasons for the suicide ran deeper than they could ever have known. It didn't matter now. His chance was over and it could not be given back.
A woman in the crowd next to the figure burst into nearly unheard sobs, her hands letting go of the umbrella to clutch at her face. The boy's mother. The figure watched as the umbrella seemed to rejoice in its sudden escape into freedom, twisting and blowing with the wind.
"… Now and forever, Amen."
The figure glanced down to read these final few words off the pastor's lips. Sensing that the man had no more to say, the crowd began to slowly move away, the mother lingering only a few more moments to watch as the coffin was lowered into the ground and covered.
Making no sign of movement, the figure waited until the graveyard was empty before eliciting a small smile.
Memories of the night the boy died flashed through their mind. The small smile became wider as they recalled the frightened and confused face of the boy; who had never been held at gunpoint before. The tears that had been shed when the boy had realised what he had to do. The smile turned into a laugh as they remembered when he had finally given into his terror and had slowly taken the painkillers.
After a few moments of gleeful rejoicing, the laughter slowly faded until the small smile was back in place. Looking down at the fresh grave, they whispered their last words with an air of finality.
"Amen Brother. Amen."