Life

The slight squeak of the brakes announce that we are here.  My dad puts the car into park, and I sit, knowing I need to get out, but my legs refuse to cooperate.  I reach down and grab the door handle, take a deep breathe, and open the door.  The church, a place that has always brought me peace, looms before me, now the enemy ready to attack.  As my family and I make our way in the doors I can not help but shudder at what is to come.

            Once we are inside I am ushered away from my family towards a hallway.  The hallway  seems to stretch on forever, an unending corridor leading me to reality and a black door at the end. I slowly make my way to toward the door, the florescent lights causing a dim glow, like they are fighting to keep darkness from overcoming it, just like me. All is silent except the clicking of my shoes on the cracked and stained  tile floor, and the occasional sniff of someone in the sanctuary, just on the other side of the wall.  Th wall, the thin amounts of insulation and wood protecting my from the thing I have tried not to think about all week long.  In my silent musing I did not relize how close I am to the door, and that I have finally reached my first obstacle; the knob. I stare at the brass knob an internal battle raging, I know I must open the door, but how?

            I stand motionless, hand suspended right above the knob.  I can not make my hand reach out and touch it.  Its strange, but this usual task of opening a door is not quite the same, not with this door.  Not only will this door lead me to the stage, it will lead me to face this tragedy full on.  The reality I have been running from will finally catch me, and I do not know if I am strong enough to take it.  Once I turn the knob and walk through the door, there is no turning back, I can only move forward.  Once the door is opened, my life will truly never be the same again.

            With a trembling hand I slowly turn the knob, open the door, and walk onto the left wing of the stage.  The woman, pounding out notes on the piano, turns to me and gives a nod to a chair behind her.  Taking that as my cue, I step toward the chair, knowing that this chair will support me better than my legs at the moment.  With the first obstacle out of my way, I sit back and just listen to the sounds around me.  Although I still am not able to see into the crowd, I can hear people moving about.  There are young children begging for their mother's attention, quiet sobs, and the murmur of reassurances, all mixing to cause a constant buzz of sounds, that carry through the wall up to me.  The sounds of the crowd put me in a sort of trance, causing me to reminisce on old memories.  I start to remember long days riding around on the four wheeler, running wild outside, getting covered with dirt and not caring in the least. The crazy adventures at the creek pretending to be Huckleberry Finn and always coming home tired but happy.  Happy, that is a word that seems to have left my vocabulary the last two weeks. Before I can even manage to smile from the good memories the bad ones start to pour in.   The night when we got the call that you were missing, driving like crazy for two hours,  to the lake to help search. The blur of the next week filled with sitting, waiting, and praying for a miracle that, with each day we knew was not coming.  I am jolted out of my silent thoughts to the sound of the preacher saying all rise for the family to enter. My family.

          The family seated and the pastor's words said, it is my turn to go.  I walk the five short steps to the podium, as if I am walking the plank.  I know what I must do, I have done it numerous times before, but never like this. I hear the opening chords to my song start to play, I open my mouth not knowimg what will come, and am shocked when the words and notes start to flow with the music .  As I look around the sanctuary I try to focus on no one, fearing if I do the wall  holding back my emotions will break open.  I grip the podium so tight my knuckles soon turn white as snow, but I don't even notice, my mind is only focused on fimishing the song before my wall collapses.  The podium is my anchor, holding me steady as the raging storm inside me threatens to engulf me.  I sing through the song by sheer will, remembering that this is the last thing I can ever do for him.  That thought alone holds me though until the last strains of the song fade away.

            I chance a look at the crowd when my song is finished, and soon realize it was a mistake.  I see the tear-streaked faces of my family, the pain so evident in their faces I can almost touch it.  I quickly walk offstage, and once again I am at the door.  The brass knob is no obstacle to me this time, and I jerk the door open just wanting to get out.  My heels click quickly as I try once again to out run the pain and sorrow that is following me.  It is to late for me to run now, no matter how fast I move the feelings just seem to stick to me like smoke, making the air hard to breath.  When I make it out of the hallway I lean on a window at the back of the church, and that is when I see it.  The imag that will truly make this horrible thing true, I feel my wall start to break as I see the coffin being rolled up the aisle.

            The wall I have kept up all day finally crumbles as the true reality hits like a ton of bricks, he is gone.  No more hanging at the lake.  No more Fourth of July parties.  No more sneaking out to go race on the back roads.  No more time to make memories like at graduation or senoir prom.  No more memories period, he is not ever going to be here again.  The pain washes over me in torrents, my knees turn to rubber, I am forced to lean on the wall for support.  When I look back in to the sanctuary I see that the is almost to the back of the sanctuary.  My aunt and uncle right behind it, with all the rest of my family following.  As the coffin rolls by me, time seems to stop.  I cant breathe, and my legs are useless to me.  As new tears pour down my face I send up a prayer for strength, almost seeing it hit the ceiling and fall back down.  I feel strong arms wrap around my shoulders and propel me forward, taking me outside to the parking lot. I am so lost in my pain that I do not  even see who helps me in the car I simplyI slide in looking towards the hurse that holds my cousin.

            The car slowly inches away from the curb, following the hurse.  Like a trail of black ants we crawl to the cemetery.  As we slowly make our way I can not help but wonder if our pace is caused from protocol,or  just that everyone wants to put off the inevitable. Cars pull over all over the road allowing us to pass, paying there respects.   We reach the cemetery and with heavy hearts and tear-stained faces we walk to the grave.  As my cousin is slowly lowered into the ground I turn into my aunt's shoulder and allow the tears to fall unabated.  Sometimes the only way to soothe a breaking heart is through tears

            A year  later  I slowly walk to where his tombstone now stands.  His stone is beautiful, his name proudly on the top and the dates June 27, 1991 and  March 23, 2009, engraved right in the middle.  As I place fresh roses on his grave, I smile, determined to remember all the good memories and not just the bad.  As I stare at my reflection in the stone I once again  marvel that I could have changed so much in such a short time.  I now know that my life is never going to be the same again, but that doesn’t mean I need to stop living it.  I slowly turn and walk back to my car knowing that one day we will see eachother again and I will have some pretty exciting stories to share.