Content warning: This post deals with death and grief (fictional).
She stared at a spot on the floor. Not the stain kind of spot. Just a spot. Anything was better than looking at the coffin, showered with flowers and with his photo on a pedestal next to it.
Her daughter moved next to her; reached for her hand. Celia shrugged, smiled sideways to her daughter and returned her gaze to the spot. She wanted to be left alone. Not one tear had escaped her eyes from the moment…
A shiver ran down her spine and she forced her thoughts to happier times… his hand in the small of her back, steadily dropping to the curve of her bottom… his naked body pressed against her back, his erection telling her what he wanted… his fingers circling around her nipples just before a hard pinch… his lips on hers, soft, demanding, pulling her into him, making her arch her back, wetting her cunt…
It’s only when the music started to play that she became aware of the present again.
And you, and your sweet desire
You took me higher and higher, baby
It’s a livin’ thing
It’s a terrible thing to lose
She almost hissed in disgust. Not for the song, because it was one of his favorites. No, the words…
Living thing… living thing…
Not much living about him now, is there? Celia’s eyes flashed to the coffin; to his picture but she quickly returned to staring at the spot.
Celia heard someone speaking again — another speech — but her own thoughts were louder than the voice droning through the room. She was proud of herself, keeping her emotions intact the way she did. He would’ve proud of her, as he always kept his emotions under control.
Music started again…
For some reason I can’t explain
I know St. Peter won’t call my name
But he called your name, didn’t he. Is that where you are now? With Saint Peter? Asking permission to pass the pearly gates?
She would have snarled, if she could. Instead, her eyes stayed fixed on that one spot while the music played and she tried to force her mind back to the sexy thoughts. To his delicious cock in her mouth. His fingers inside her. His mouth on her clit.
Next to her she heard her daughter sniffing and blowing her nose. She knew the kids were sad, but they were adults and they had to deal with it. She had enough to think of. Her defensive thoughts were interrupted as the one song seamlessly moved on to the next.
I turn to stone when you are gone
I turn to stone
Something stirred in her.
Turn to stone? Yes, that’s what had happened. She had to. Celia had no other choice than encapsulating her heart in stone. She didn’t want to feel. She needed him to be proud of her; to see that he had taught her that life and death goes hand in hand. That death is death and no tears need to be shed, because one day we all would die. She had never wanted to think or speak of death… their death, and she had always deeply hoped that she would go before him. Fate decided otherwise. Yes, her heart had turned to stone, because that was the only way she would get through this.
The music stopped.
She had asked for this.
Moments of silence.
Moments in which people started shifting in their seats. Celia knew everyone waited for her to deliver a speech. She knew she couldn’t, not the way she had done it when her mother-in-law passed away, and not the way she did at her own mom’s funeral service. This was different. How could she say goodbye to the love of her life? She wasn’t ready. She couldn’t. It would have been so much better had she gone before him. Or better still, had they gone together. They were not made to live without each other. Soulmates. Such a stupid word, but it was true. They were soulmates. They were silly together, serious together.., his pain was hers, her pain his. They always were together, always. And here she was. Left behind. How could he? He knew she couldn’t handle this… life without him.
Her heart of stone ached.
No, she had to be strong.
No emotions… the way he never showed emotion. She wanted him to be proud of her.
The first chords of the final piece of music broke the silence in the room. More cracks appeared in the stone.
Celia straightened her back, and held her head down. She did her best to find her spot on the floor, but it was gone.
No, don’t listen.
She wanted to hold her hands over her ears to cut out the sound. Celia wanted to run away, but she couldn’t. Paralyzed, she listened. With every chord another crack appeared in the stone around her heart.
The stone crumbled. The protection was gone. Her heart lay bare. Emotions overwhelmed her. Celia’s shoulders shook as silent tears rolled down her cheeks. Her head raised; her eyes fixed on his coffin. Her buddy was gone. Her mate. Her lover. Her friend. Her soulmate. Her husband. So many images flashed through her mind. Talks. Dinners. Trips. Kisses. Fucks.
The music pulled from her every emotion Celia had tried to keep hidden.
Somewhere in the room someone wailed.
Couldn’t they just grieve in silence?
Her body shook and shivered and her daughter pulled her closer. She allowed it this time, leaning against her daughter, tears streaming down her eyes, and only then realizing the wailing sound escaped from her own mouth.
His hands. His humor. His eyes. His face. HIM!
Everything of him played in her mind like a movie.
Celia broke down. For the first time since he died, she allowed her grief…
Pachelbel’s Canon in D, the only song he ever told her he wanted to ‘hear’ at his funeral.
The only song she never wanted to hear at his funeral, but she had to… it was his choice.
Personal note: Ever since my mom died I have been thinking of death far too much. This piece was incredibly difficult to write, because as I wrote it, I felt the sadness enveloping me like a heavy blanket. It made me cry, but it wouldn’t let go of me until it was written. Pachelbel’s Canon in D is a favorite piece of music of Master T and me.
© Rebel’s Notes
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