The Circle of Life

The smell of flowers and padded church pews filled the auditorium. Mourners gathered in the foyer and milled about, wispering between the silence and the sobs. The family of the deceased are all dressed in black, standing in clumps like sheep huddled against a cold wind. In the corner of the room she stands holding tightly to her mother's hand. Her golden ringlets play against the darkness of the mood, she is seven and she is looking for some answers. Tugging gently at her mother's hand she looks up expectantly, the tears in everyone's eyes frighten her a little.
"It's okay mommy. Don't cry."
The service is prompt and general. Music, fine words, lovely memories of a life well lived. She sits in the pew dangling her feet, playing with her hands looking out amongst the crowd with wondering eyes. She moves closer to her mother and reaching her tiny hand up brushes the tears from her mother's face.
"Why did Poppy leave? Is he comming back mommy?"
"No my darling, Poppy isn't comming back. Poppy went to heaven."
"But mommy, he promised to take me to the park on Saturday. He promised."
"I'm sorry sweatheart..."
Tears began to spill silently out of her dark lashes, her lower lip just beginning to quiver she sits down quietly with her head bowed looking at her shoes. Poppy was gone, he was never comming back. No more playing in the park or walks around the block, no more secret ice cream sundaes just the two of them. Lifting her head and looking around, sparkling eyes tell of confusion...

Sitting at the front of the church next to the minister she brushes lint from her black suit. She is sitting erect clenching her jaw. Every hair is in place, no tears have yet to marr the mascara applied earlier in the morning. Leaning forward slightly she wispers quietly to the minister, she scans the room and makes a mental note of people she should speak with. The arrangement for food was handled the day before, the hearse and all the limos were outside. Plans for the care and comfort of her mother had been detailed with her sister and brother. The flowers arranged just so atop the casket she picked out.
"Daddy's gone."
The thought is brief and she quickly passes it by. The service is fine, everything is going acording to plan.
"He won't be there if I need him... Daddy."
She wears a mask of stoic resolution and looking around, sparkling eyes tell of denial...

There had been little sleep for a few days now, the lines on her face augmented by the dark circles under her eyes. Bloodshot and puffy, there had been no make-up for her this morning. Her hands still trembled just as they did the moment the Doctor had said he was gone. Gone for good. She is sitting in the front pew starring at the casket. Her shoulders heave with great sobs and the tears are comming with an uncontrolable force. Fifty-six years of marriage, her whole adult life, lived with him. Her best friend, partner, confidant, lover. He filled the empty spaces in her life as far back as she could remember. She could, in fact, hardly remember her life without him. She surrenders the part of her that is laid to rest with him, a part of her soul that was taken from her on that day. That terrible day. Her head nods with approval to hear him so well talked of. A fine father and grandfather. A fine husband. A life well lived.
"How do I go on without him? Who will take care of the bills? Who will feed the dog and lock up at night? How can I want to go on without him?"
Clutching the hand of her son and sobbing into her husband's old hankercheif, she stares blankly ahead and sparkling eyes tell of emptiness...