" EVERYTHING THERE COULD BE
THEN ABSOLUTELY NOTHING "
–
It wasn't quite how I'd pictured it.
I suppose when you possess such immense love for another person, it's puzzling to see when others don't share the same affection. Dallas wasn't the most liked person in Tulsa, even amongst the greaser side. It was evident by the discomfort in people's faces. There were quite a few bodies gathered around, hands in pockets while they hovered around the casket, but not one showed a hint of emotion.
I shed tears with one other person at Dallas's funeral, that being Two-bit. There could have been a few others. I thought I saw Sylvia sobbing under her breath from across the room, wiping away tears with the sleeve of her black shirt.
I did think there would be a big showing. Dallas had a lot of connections. I came to realize not a lot of them were good ones.
I wanted to speak, but I couldn't. I was never good with speaking.
It was grey outside with layers of clouds undulating over the sun, light rain spitting down every so often. Thunder crackled from far away creating a soft sound from where I was. I was glad it wasn't sunny out. The weather felt right. It was the only thing that did feel right.
I'd never felt such a wrench of guilt inside of me until I sat at Dallas's funeral, fidgeting and squirming in my seat from how badly I wanted to leave. It was painful to hear the chatter about him. The speeches were unbearable, and when Darrel mustered the courage to do one for the whole gang, I couldn't stop my sobs. My thoughts screamed at me to stay where I was, and I did until the end, when I could walk away with my father and brother by my side.
Nothing helped to abate the images of the night he was shot from forcing itself into my mind. The soft touch of his hand as his grip dwindled. It was the small things that looped in my head, like the way his eyes stared into mine before turning dull. It amazed me, the way a beating heart could still so fast, everything there could be, and then absolutely nothing.
My dad wanted to come. It warmed my heart when I heard him say that. I was never too close with my dad, so he had no reason to take a particular liking to Dallas — but he did, even before death. He was by my side, comforting me every moment I needed it.
When my father, brother and I arrived home from the funeral I'd gone directly to my room. I shut off my lights. I shut my door. I threw myself under the sheets and let the silence overtake my thoughts. No matter how many times my tears faltered or I jolted falling asleep, Dallas was still on the forefront of my mind.
I couldn't get him out of my mind, no matter what I did to try and relieve my thoughts from the hell I was going through. The crying never stopped.
I got up from my bed, heaved a loud cry, and then stormed out my door with tears streaming down my cheeks. I went to the living room where there my dad sat at the couch, his legs propped on sofa as he flicked the remote at the television. He looked up to see my tears, his calmed expression dropping and switching to concern when he saw my state. He immediately rose from the couch and shuffled over to me, motioning for my to sit down as he wrapped his arm around my waist.
"Holly," he said, trying to hide the worry in his tone, "it's going to be okay."
He didn't say much else while I sobbed on his shoulder. He let me get it out, all of the tears and panicked breathes, until I was stable enough to sit back and look him in the eye. He stared back at me, then directed his vision elsewhere seeming to be lost deep in thought. His hand reached around to my back and rubbed circles. I might not had been very close with my father, but he knew certain things about me that no other person ever has. Like nothing calmed me more when I was anxious than slowly rubbing patterns into my lower back.
"I didn't cry at her funeral."
I paused, letting what he'd said sink in. "Moms?"
He nodded. "I felt numb. As if I wasn't in this crowd of people I knew, and she knew. Just invisible. I didn't acknowledge a single person." I looked to the ground as he spoke, biting nervously at my lip. Dad didn't talk about mom too often. "Then the morning after, I woke up and I had what felt like a mountain of bed sheets on top of me. I didn't, really. She would just take all the sheets in the middle of the night. I was used to not having them at all. The bed was too big, you guys were still asleep, because she wasn't there to wake you up early like she always did. She made breakfast, I made coffee. Usually jam on toast, I never liked it much but now I eat it because it's the only thing that makes me feel like she's still here with me. Other than you."
At a lost for words, I shut my mouth and looked my father directly in the eye. The pain of talking about her was evident in his expression. I allowed him to keep going.
"You know... I've been through this all before. I don't want to lie to you and say you forget about it in time and the pain will go away completely. It's hard. It's probably the hardest thing you'll have to go through in your life. But it will get easier. At first, you have to get used to the emptiness of changing your life to fit not having them in it anymore. Like, you know... I used to make your mom coffee every single morning. Splash of cream and sugar is how she liked it. First time making myself a coffee after she passed I found myself reaching for her mug. Wanting to change my regular black coffee to that creamy color she liked, just because I knew I'd never make it again. Even today I sometimes wake up in the middle of the night wondering where she is. You have to come to terms with the fact that Dallas lost his life, and you've come to the end of a certain part of yours. It'll be hard. But I'll be here through every second."
The more he spoke the harder the tears streamed. My hands came up to cover my eyes and I let myself fall into my father's comforting embrace.
"I don't know what to do."
"Try doing what makes you happy. Whatever takes your mind off things. For me it was my job."
I looked to my hands and fiddled with my thumbs, trying to focus on my breathing and the rubbing on my back to regain my calmness. I tried thinking about what that was for me — reading, perhaps, but I didn't think I could get out of my mind long enough to immerse myself into another world.
Normally, I would go see Hanson. It truly felt like the universe took everything good from me. Everything that kept me grounded and at bay, happy and excited.
"I don't know..."
"If you need to first, get closure. If you never said goodbye to him, go say goodbye. Say what you need to say."
That was all the advice I needed. I wrapped my arms around his neck and thanked him softly before getting up. "I'm gonna go to his grave. I think I'm ready."
I noticed his his eyes light up slightly. Glad to see me in any state other than pure distress. "Do you need a ride?"
"No. I'm going to walk."
And that's what I did.
I walked all the way to Dallas's grave, the grey clouds floating above and the cool breeze biting against my skin as it brushed past. It was a long walk, about half an hour, but I needed the time to think over everything I needed to be able to get closure for his death. I tried to keep count of each steps at first, but I couldn't focus on much, and it was too long of a walk to keep up with.
I had to make a stop along the way, as well. I decided to head into a flower shop i saw on the way and get a few white roses for Dallas. Something to put at the end of his grave.
Once I reached the area, I walked to the familiar area I'd been at the funeral. I didn't think I would return back for quite a while. My feelings were too fragile. Somehow, though, I felt like I could handle it.
I stopped in front of it. The grey, rounded tombstone that sat above the dirt that Dallas was buried in. It was surreal to see his name carved onto the rock, just one in a row of many.
I sat down and pulled out the notebook I'd grabbed before I left from my back pocket along with a ballpoint pen. I placed the roses by the front of his grave.
Raising the pen above the paper, I began to write.
Dallas.
So here I am. Sitting by your tombstone. I thought if I was ever gonna be writing this note, it would be when we were older, and I wasn't much farther behind you. But, here I am.
It's late and I should have waited, but I needed to be near you right now. I can still feel your fingertips trace along my arm, and the way your lips felt. The way they looked. I remember falling in love with them the night I met you. I wasn't sure of it yet.
I got you flowers. I know you wouldn't be too hot about that, but I think you deserve something beautiful too. Somebody who does beautiful things for others in life deserves beautiful things in death, too.
Some nights I sit up and think about how easily I could have went with you. How easily I could have fell into the naive trap of Romeo and Juliet and decide that a life without you is not a life worth living. I've thought it. But how could I say that they never loved each other, if we were to end up with the same fate?
What you and I had was surely love and a hundred times more, very alive and real.
I used to wonder if I was too young to know was love was, but you proved me wrong, and showed me a love that will end with me. I once thought you were incapable of reciprocating the feeling. Now i know, in the end, love is what killed you.
I'm looking up, and the sun it about to set, and you won't be here to hold me. You didn't care much for watching the sunset, but you cared much for me, and I've always needed that. I wonder if it was a fantasy to think we'd grow old together. In the back on my mind I knew that wasn't what you wanted. You wanted to be young, get out of Tulsa and go somewhere where being a greaser isn't so bad. But, things happened quickly, and everything is different. I guess that's how it all works, isn't it?
Something changed inside me. Dallas, you and I saw the world from a different perspective. To you, the sunset was something that happened every night, a mundane occurrence, but to me it was art. Somehow, I felt a great passion as I watched the sun to descend to black. I admired the stars at night. Now, as I sit here knowing how cruel the universe can get, It doesn't excite me much anymore. A sunset is no more than an introduction to the darkness, when the world is still and unsettling.
Setting is too beautiful of a word for such a thing. I would say it fell, because falling always hurts. It leaves you with scars and reminds you of the pain you endured.
The sun fell, Dallas, and you went with it. I think from now on I'll enjoy the sunrises. I'll learn to appreciate life, the beginning. We can't spend our time dwelling upon the past. After all, as Margaret Mitchell once wrote: tomorrow is another day.
THE END.