She was dressed in her favourite yellow summer dress, the one with the little daisies embroidered on the skirt. Her cold lips were painted with colour and red blush dusted her pale face. Her mouth was parted slightly in a smile revealing her pearly white teeth. Her bright green eyes were as beautiful as ever, but all the light that they used to hold had vanished.
He watched her, willing her to wake up with his mind. But her face stayed the same. A single tear dripped down his cheek and onto hers. He clutched the side of the wooden bed she’d sleep in forever, until his knuckles turned white. Someone rested a hand on his shoulder, but he barely registered it. He could feel people walking up and paying their respects, but when they shook his hand or patted his back he felt numb inside. Unable to care that so many people loved her, cherished her.
Person after person walked by and said their words to his Mary Ellen. He listened to what they said, all of it about Mary Ellen’s kind-heartedness and compassion. Some people said very little and others were there for a long time crying and praying to God that she was in heaven. A group of little boys and girls came up to her coffin next with their parents in tow.
“Ms Shaw,” a little girl who looked about five began, “I just want you to know, that you were the bestest teacher ever and we’re gonna miss you so very much. I hope you’re in heaven with all the angels.” Her big innocent eyes filled with tears and she buried her head in her mother’s skirt. The rest of the kids said their words to their former kindergarten teacher and then they left.
Close family and friends stayed behind after the funeral for the burial. Every time he closed his eyes he saw her being buried under piles of dirt and being unable to breathe. Soil filling up her lungs and finding it’s way into her eyes. He’d wake up and his hands would be shaking and he too would be unable to breathe. The priest put a hand on his shoulder and looked at him with kind eyes.
“Do you have any last words to say to her before we head to White Oak Cemetery?” The priest asked him kindly, but slightly impatiently. He shook his head and stood up from where he’d been kneeling, his knees cracking and popping. He took a deep breath and one last look at his beautiful Mary Ellen.
“I love you,” he whispered and then they closed the coffin. They carried the dark mahogany box out of the church and the rest followed close behind. He watched as teary-eyed people piled into their cars and followed the slick black car carrying the coffin. He climbed into his car, which still lingered with the scent of her perfume and strawberry shampoo. It was foggy out, the clouds hanging low in the sky without a trace of sunlight.
The procession made its way slowly to the cemetery. When they arrived everyone clambered back out of their cars and walked to the freshly dug hole. The casket was lowered into the ground and people held sodden handkerchiefs to their tearstained faces. Words were said, none of them he could remember. And then the priest asked for people to throw a handful of dirt into the hole, as was tradition. He was the first and he carefully sprinkled dirt over her coffin. He heard sobs, but he forced himself not to cry or he didn’t think he’d ever stop.
“You’re gone,” he began and everyone was silent, listening, “Or so they say. But I know that you’re not really gone. You’re still here. You’re always there at our favourite coffee house, I’ve started ordering you’re chai tea latte just because it reminds me of you. Gardens. The ones with lots of flowers and plants, I can just picture what your face would look like when you saw all the flowers.
I find it hard to sleep at night knowing that I won’t see you in the morning. That year we spent away from each other, was the hardest year of my life, but I still keep those letters under my bed tied with string. Even when you were still here with us, I’d take the letters out and read them just to reassure myself you were really mine. When we were apart I could at least tell myself that somewhere someone was seeing your smile and that beautiful smile wasn’t going to waste. But now, no one will ever see your smile again. And that small thing kills me a little inside.
One day the pain of losing you will recede a little, but one thing I know for sure is it will never go away. There are no words to describe how much I love you, but if you just look at my face you’ll know. I promise I will see you again some day, but for now farewell my love.” Everyone was silent after his long speech. All that could be heard was quiet sobbing and the wind in the trees. Even the birds seemed to have stopped singing just for her. The trees whispered her name to one another, a name they will never forget. Mary Ellen, Mary Ellen. A person he would never forget.
For just a second sunlight burst through the clouds and shone on her grave and he smiled. For the first time since her death, he smiled. Someone, somewhere was looking out for his Mary Ellen. The sunlight shone brightly clearly illuminating the words engraved on her tombstone. Mary Ellen, too dearly loved to be forgotten.
He watched her, willing her to wake up with his mind. But her face stayed the same. A single tear dripped down his cheek and onto hers. He clutched the side of the wooden bed she’d sleep in forever, until his knuckles turned white. Someone rested a hand on his shoulder, but he barely registered it. He could feel people walking up and paying their respects, but when they shook his hand or patted his back he felt numb inside. Unable to care that so many people loved her, cherished her.
Person after person walked by and said their words to his Mary Ellen. He listened to what they said, all of it about Mary Ellen’s kind-heartedness and compassion. Some people said very little and others were there for a long time crying and praying to God that she was in heaven. A group of little boys and girls came up to her coffin next with their parents in tow.
“Ms Shaw,” a little girl who looked about five began, “I just want you to know, that you were the bestest teacher ever and we’re gonna miss you so very much. I hope you’re in heaven with all the angels.” Her big innocent eyes filled with tears and she buried her head in her mother’s skirt. The rest of the kids said their words to their former kindergarten teacher and then they left.
Close family and friends stayed behind after the funeral for the burial. Every time he closed his eyes he saw her being buried under piles of dirt and being unable to breathe. Soil filling up her lungs and finding it’s way into her eyes. He’d wake up and his hands would be shaking and he too would be unable to breathe. The priest put a hand on his shoulder and looked at him with kind eyes.
“Do you have any last words to say to her before we head to White Oak Cemetery?” The priest asked him kindly, but slightly impatiently. He shook his head and stood up from where he’d been kneeling, his knees cracking and popping. He took a deep breath and one last look at his beautiful Mary Ellen.
“I love you,” he whispered and then they closed the coffin. They carried the dark mahogany box out of the church and the rest followed close behind. He watched as teary-eyed people piled into their cars and followed the slick black car carrying the coffin. He climbed into his car, which still lingered with the scent of her perfume and strawberry shampoo. It was foggy out, the clouds hanging low in the sky without a trace of sunlight.
The procession made its way slowly to the cemetery. When they arrived everyone clambered back out of their cars and walked to the freshly dug hole. The casket was lowered into the ground and people held sodden handkerchiefs to their tearstained faces. Words were said, none of them he could remember. And then the priest asked for people to throw a handful of dirt into the hole, as was tradition. He was the first and he carefully sprinkled dirt over her coffin. He heard sobs, but he forced himself not to cry or he didn’t think he’d ever stop.
“You’re gone,” he began and everyone was silent, listening, “Or so they say. But I know that you’re not really gone. You’re still here. You’re always there at our favourite coffee house, I’ve started ordering you’re chai tea latte just because it reminds me of you. Gardens. The ones with lots of flowers and plants, I can just picture what your face would look like when you saw all the flowers.
I find it hard to sleep at night knowing that I won’t see you in the morning. That year we spent away from each other, was the hardest year of my life, but I still keep those letters under my bed tied with string. Even when you were still here with us, I’d take the letters out and read them just to reassure myself you were really mine. When we were apart I could at least tell myself that somewhere someone was seeing your smile and that beautiful smile wasn’t going to waste. But now, no one will ever see your smile again. And that small thing kills me a little inside.
One day the pain of losing you will recede a little, but one thing I know for sure is it will never go away. There are no words to describe how much I love you, but if you just look at my face you’ll know. I promise I will see you again some day, but for now farewell my love.” Everyone was silent after his long speech. All that could be heard was quiet sobbing and the wind in the trees. Even the birds seemed to have stopped singing just for her. The trees whispered her name to one another, a name they will never forget. Mary Ellen, Mary Ellen. A person he would never forget.
For just a second sunlight burst through the clouds and shone on her grave and he smiled. For the first time since her death, he smiled. Someone, somewhere was looking out for his Mary Ellen. The sunlight shone brightly clearly illuminating the words engraved on her tombstone. Mary Ellen, too dearly loved to be forgotten.
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