Like most I came from an Ocean...

Chapter two-Empty Celebrations

My mother died the day after that we had our special talk. I had entered her room silently and shuffled to her bed, where she lay, as quiet as the nightsky that watches over us while we sleep. My heart was pounding as I came closer. She wasn't breathing. I ran my fingers upon her cheek-my fingertips felt cold.

Tears welled up in my eyes. Yes, I cried for a bit next to her, but then I fought back against them and tried to convince myself that it was for the best and that she was fine, wherever she was.

The funeral was rather pleasant and prepared very well. Many people came; half I did not know. All of her colleagues came. Surprisingly, her boss turned up, too. At the start he came up to me with a strange face, half sad, the other half: utterly confused.

He asked me to forgive him for the warning that he gave my mother. He looked guilty, and I instantly forgave him. One glance of remorse is already enough for me to accept.

'My mother was a hard worker, Mr. Robertson,' I explained, patting on the left shoulder of his all-black suit, 'She did wrong to offend you, but turning up to pay one's respects afterwards is more than ample for her to excuse. I do hope she did not offend you too much, and I ask forgiveness from you on behalf of her.'

He smiled faintly, but with tears spilling onto his cheeks.

'Thank you, Zander,' he replied with his thick, New York accent, dabbing at his tears with a small tissue from his pocket, 'I was in a rather bad mood myself on that sad day when I put your mother on probation. In respect to her, I'd like to say a eulogy in church at the altar, is that ok?' he asked, still wiping the water droplets away from his rigid face.

'Yes,' I responded.

Many had said their own eulogies at the altar. Being the closest person to my mother, I was the first.

The priest announced that I was to do one, so, with my piece of crumpled paper in my hand, I nervously walked to the altar.

I flattened the sheet on the small table for reading, and looked into the eyes of the crowd.

'A beautiful mother passed five days ago,' I began, trying to hold back my own cry-resemblers, 'she passed but peacefully. My mother, Anna, was the best mother in the world that I had ever seen. From the day that I was born, she looked after me with such loving and tender care. I was fed at the right times everyday, I drank at the right times of the day and most importantly I felt safe. She worked very hard to get where I am now,' I relaxed for a moment, by taking a small breath, then restarted, 'In the Church of Saint Joseph, center of New York, is where I am now, remembering the best moments that we had together when my mother was still here. I prepared a special poem for her, which I called, 'Out of the blue'. I hope that you all enjoy it:

'Like most I came from the ocean-

a huge cauldron of blue potion.

I sat near the bay, on the golden sand,

observing the horizon for other land.

The trees behind swayed in the breeze,

the birds soared high near the stars that gleamed.

I wondered peacefully upon the ground,

searching for other answers that could be found.

As the sun set I left my spot,

running 'til I found a rock;

to which I dove back into the ocean-

that huge cauldron of blue potion.'

I thanked the audience for listening and sat back down.

Then, my mother's boss did his. It was a beautiful euology, and I was very surprised, if not happy.