THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN THE BANE OF MY LIFE FOR THE PAST GOD KNOWS HOW LONG...
Enjoy lol (and listen to the song at the appropriate time...I heard it at a funeral over the summer, and Ireally like the piece).
**************************************************************************************
Chapter 68
Nick’s P.O.V:
The funeral was at ten, but the family was up and ready much earlier than that.
I guess they had to be – until then, I hadn’t spared much thought for how much work must go into organising a funeral. Many older people, I knew, planned their funerals down to the last detail so that when the time came, all the family had to do was carry out their loved one’s last wishes. But when the death was unexpected, especially with one so young, there was likely no previous planning, leaving more for the already grieving family to worry about.
I shook my head to clear my morbid thoughts and shifted my stiff position on the end of the couch in the living room.
The whole family had arrived just over an hour ago; some unfamiliar and some I recognised from Christmas. The difference between that joyous occasion and now was immense.
Even Tamsin, Shannon’s younger cousin who had flirted shamelessly when we met, was subdued and had barely glanced in my direction since her arrival. I couldn’t even see any makeup on her face, making her seem much younger than I remembered. Or, more likely, she actually looked her age. I couldn’t say I missed her inappropriate behaviour in the slightest. It was one less thing for me to worry about.
Conversations around the room were held in low murmurs, but for the most part, people were silent. Waiting. It was the calm before the storm. And I was dreading the moment it ended and the tumult crashed over us.
Shannon was huddled in the corner with her cousin Charlie, who was sans Caleb for the day; their heads bent close together as they whispered to each other. Katie sat on my left, a tissue held tightly in her right hand. I’d tried talking to her, but she was distracted, staring over at Adrian; who was conversing quietly with Charlie’s father Tom and another uncle who had been introduced as Mario. She stared at the three men, but I could tell her thoughts were far away by the almost glazed look in her eyes.
I shifted in my seat, my plain black suit uncomfortably hot. I’d never enjoyed the constrictions of wearing a suit, preferring to don old, comfy jeans and tees. It would hardly be appropriate though, for a funeral.
My eyes once again slid to the clock above the mantel. Time seemed to be moving interminably slowly, the hands on the clock sluggish. Only five minutes to go. I could wait that long. I had to.
All eyes turned to Carol in expectation when she entered the room only a minute later. She was demurely dressed in a dark skirt and blouse. In my opinion, it only served to draw attention to the paleness of her cheeks and the fatigue written into the lines on her face. But then, nobody was likely to judge her for looking a bit too pale or tired at her son’s funeral.
I grimaced at my inane mental chatter, glad nobody else could hear the stupid and insignificant thoughts running through my mind. I suddenly realised I must be more nervous than I had previously thought.
Ignoring the roomful of onlookers, Carol stepped over to her husband and murmured something in his ear. It seemed to be a signal of sorts to the rest of the family, who seemed to collectively release their pent up breath. Everything was put into motion. Purses and tissues were gathered, and arms were taken as everybody headed for the door.
I stayed quietly in my seat until Shannon came over and grasped my hand tightly. We were the last to leave the room. We didn’t speak.
Our car was the last to leave. We were to travel behind the hearse – an age-old procession that lengthened the usually short drive to the church substantially.
We all piled into the smart black car as the others left, waiting for Shannon’s dad to lock up the house. At last we set off, the six of us quiet; no radio to break the silence. The small parish church the funeral was being held in was no more than fifteen minutes away.
Last time I’d visited, Shannon had taken me to many places – but not here. Under normal circumstances, I’d have been interested, eager to see sights that in no way resemble the urban views I was used to. But not now. I got the vague impression of a narrow road lined with winter-bare trees when I glanced through the tinted window. I kept my eyes averted from the vehicle ahead of us.
Only minutes later, the car veered to the right, up a slightly inclined driveway and through an old stone gateway. We were here, then. I had to let go of Shannon’s cool hand to open the door when we rolled to a smooth stop. I saw her fingers clench around nothing, the blue of her veins standing out in stark contrast to her suddenly pale skin.
I stepped outside, and my eyes were drawn to the large building in front of me. Shannon’s father had told me a little about its history the night before, though it had been obvious that the subject pained him. It was named St. Patrick’s church and was one of four in the parish of the Immaculate Heart of Mary.
The large, rounded wooded doors stood open, the vestibule dim. In the seconds I spent staring at the weathered stone church, I noticed its Gothic revival style stone features – a remnant of my torturous days spent learning the history of art back in school. I suppressed a shiver of near disgust as the boring memories flashed across my mind, though nobody was paying any attention to me.
Many had already made their way inside, but the small church obviously couldn’t seat all who had turned out for the funeral. I’d never seen so many at a funeral before, besides in the paper. It seemed Ryan had been well-known.
A hush had fallen over the darkly dressed crowd when the hearse came to a stop; they’d been waiting for us, waiting for Ryan. I pushed that thought firmly from my mind and turned, stepping to the side to allow Shannon room to get out of the car.
We both stood to the side, at the bottom of the path leading to the door, her back pressed against my chest as she stared at the ground, studiously ignoring her surroundings. I fought the - completely natural at this stage – urge to slip my arms around her waist and pull her tight against me. To still my wayward hands, I shoved them deep into my pockets and turned my attention to the area surrounding the church. It really was lovely.
The church was surrounded by lawns fringed with large, sparsely planted trees, and on the south-facing slope on the side of the hill was the enclosed area of St. Columcille’s cemetery. The grass was thin and dull in places and the trees were mostly bare, but there were nascent signs of new life all around, though spring wouldn’t truly take hold for a few more weeks. The view though, that was something.
The church sat atop a small hill and was afforded an unimpeded panoramic view from Bray Head to Glencree valley. Beyond the sprawling town that Shannon had described as a ‘kip’, the coast could be seen, along with a dark sliver of the Irish Sea, before melding seamlessly with the hazy horizon. It was gorgeous, and frankly, unlike anything I’d seen before.
Unlike in so many movies, the weather wasn’t fittingly dark and cold, and nor was it particularly warm. It was just an average day in February; cold, but not freezing, the sky dotted with clouds and the sunlight weak but definitely present. It was a day that would be utterly mundane to most – those that hadn’t been affected by the same tragedy that had led us here today.
The faint murmurs that had run throughout the crowd ceased almost unanimously as the solid wood coffin was lifted from the hearse. A large casket spray of all white flowers and delicate greenery almost dominated the top.
When I saw the coffin, I couldn’t stop myself again – I had to hold her, comfort her in any way I could. I rested my hands against her hips and squeezed gently…in reassurance? I didn’t know. I suspected the comfort was just as much for me as for her.
I barely heard the sound of her voice as she spoke quietly; face still tilted down to the ground. “Don’t leave me.”
I squeezed again, and this time, I was sure it was a reassurance for her. With a quick glance around to check that nobody was watching, I dipped my head and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Never” I breathed.
All eyes were on us as we slowly walked up the crowded aisle to the front of the church but I ignored everyone around us. The coffin was the last to enter, carried by six men – including Adrian and Shannon’s father. The casket was up high on their shoulders, arms tightly interlocked beneath. Tears had already begun to flow throughout the crowd. The one detail that I was saddened, and yet, in no way surprised to notice, was the number of youthful faces in the crowd. I could only guess that many of the large groups of younger people had been school or college friends of Ryan’s. I also noticed some of Shannon’s friends standing near the back. Everyone had turned out in support of the Doherty’s.
Growing up, I’d been lucky enough to have attended only a few funerals, most of which I didn’t remember very well anymore. So it was with some reservation that I followed Carol, Katie and Shannon to the pew at the very front of the church. I wasn’t entirely sure what the protocol was, and the fact that it was a Catholic mass as well didn’t help. I had no idea what it would entail. However, I wasn’t about to leave Shannon just so I could fade into the crowd standing at the back near the doors.
Clearing my mind of everything but the service, I sat at the end of the pew, Shannon on my right, her left hand grasped between both my own. Her father held her right hand, his wife close by his side. Like me, Katie sat at the end of the pew, her head bent close to Adrian’s. She was his support system, just like I was Shannon’s. The rest of their surprisingly large and extended family sat behind us and in the first few pews on the other side of the aisle.
On the way in, we were each handed a thin Order of Service entitled; ‘In Loving Memory of Ryan Doherty’. When the mass started, I was glad of it, because I found I knew absolutely none of the responses or prayers. Even with the Order of Service, I was constantly a second or two behind everyone else, and when it came to the prayers that weren’t printed out word for word in front of me; I didn’t even bother trying to follow along. Instead I just stood silently, my eyes trained on the altar and the old, wizened priest in his vestments. During the hymns, I took in t the interior of church; from its stone walls up to its highly arched wooden ceiling. The choir was practically hidden behind the copious bouquets of flowers that had been brought by mourners. I wasn’t sure who they were but they sounded amazing.
Religion had never been my thing. It had never been a part of my life and the older I got the less I thought about it. So this was, in a morbid way, an experience for me.
When it came time to go up and get Communion, I was one of the few who stayed seated. At first, I looked around anxiously at everyone standing up and forming a line down the aisle, not sure what to do. Shannon leant over and whispered in my ear, explaining what was happening. I sent her a grateful look but she was already standing up and stepping over to the priest, her dad a step behind her.
She hadn’t yet shed a tear and I was slightly worried, not quite sure whether she was trying to be strong, or if she’d just disconnected herself from the situation, somehow. My money was on the latter. It couldn’t be healthy, I knew that. She needed this time to say goodbye, to really grieve for her brother. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much I could really do in the middle of a funeral. All I could do was hope she’d be alright and lend her what support I could offer.
I shifted uneasily in my seat, watching all the unfamiliar faces shuffle past. When she re-joined me, Shannon merely slipped her hand into mine before bowing her head, eyes closed; her lips moving subtly as she presumably prayed.
The whole situation made me feel rather helpless and only resulted in unwanted memories and feelings about my own mother surfacing. Following her lead, I bowed my head; my eyes shuttered, and fought the surge of emotion. It didn’t work too well – I guess you just can’t tell your brain what it should feel at any given moment. No matter how much you might wish it sometimes.
Both Shannon’s father and brother got up to say a few words about Ryan. It was without a doubt the worst part of the funeral. It was easy to distance oneself from a priest intoning prayers from the Bible…passages I’d never even heard before, but it was another thing entirely to listen to close relatives deliver a choked up, extremely personal speech. I didn’t get emotional very often, but I could feel tears stinging the back of my eyes and it hurt to swallow.
A glance to my right saw Shannon’s cheeks wet with tears as she hiccupped softly.
Her mother looked distraught. The tears pooling in her eyes hadn’t spilled over, but she looked broken, even as she so obviously tried to remain stoic. That false air of strength and glimmer of tears hurt more than the sound of a woman sobbing loudly at the back. I had to look away.
Time seemed to drag as the last words were spoken, the last prayers repeated; and yet it was over too quickly. It took barely an hour to celebrate over two decades of life. It seemed unfair. But then, what about the situation wasn’t unfair?
The assembled crowd rose almost as one, and the casket was once again hoisted onto the shoulders of the six men as the strains of some, no doubt famous, piece of music began to play. It only seemed to make things worse, and I couldn’t help but wonder how a piece of music only minutes long, could evoke such strong emotions in so many people.
I was the first to make my way back down the aisle, Shannon beside me. This time I found it harder to pretend I didn’t notice all the eyes on us, and I couldn’t help but feel self-conscious. Pushing the thought aside, I made myself ignore everyone around us and stared straight ahead as we made our way to the doors. We wouldn’t have far to travel to the gravesite. Not everyone would be present at the burial though – it would be more of an intimate affair.
Despite the fact that the sky was now covered in a thick blanket of clouds, the light seemed unbearably bright after being inside.
The rest of the ceremony seemed to pass by in a blur, the burial short, and yet poignant – the final goodbye. I focused my gaze on the newly cut gravestone, the short and simple epitaph burned into my mind as I tried to avoid watching the coffin being lowered into the ground. ‘The journey is the reward.’
Then it was over; done, and yet so much had been left unsaid.
I felt like we were at a crossroads in our lives, and one wrong step could throw everything into disarray. I shook off the slightly ominous feeling and chalked it up to my surroundings. Without so much as another glance at the freshly turned earth being shovelled into the grave, I turned my back on the graveyard, on the past.
I had so many demons that needed to be laid to rest, and this tragedy had only drawn each and every one of my tumultuous feelings to the surface. I felt, almost fragile. I dreaded to think how it was affecting Shannon. Her skin was nowhere near as thick as mine. I knew that turning away from the grave was probably the hardest thing she, and her family, had ever had to do, and I wished – not for the first, or even the second time – that there was something I could do. I hated feeling so impotent.
Unfortunately, for the first time, I didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what words to use to make the girl I loved feel better.
So all I did was wrap an arm around her and draw her close as we began the short walk back down the hill.
********************************************************************************************************
Okay, I don’t really know where to start…I can’t say sorry enough for taking so long to upload. I’m not going to bother with excuses; they’re always pretty generic.
I found this chapter ridiculously hard to write and I don’t know why. I think it was probably because it’s such an important chapter and I wanted it to be good.I also wanted it to be a lot longer than it turned out but I pretty much got so sick of it that I gave up. I’ve spent so much time trying to force the words out that I hate it lol
So I’m sorry if it’s bad…at this point I don’t really care :)
I have started the next chapter and am about halfway through (surprisingly enough) so I’ll hopefully have it up soon.
Also I'd like to thank those of you who left me messages...I really appreciate the support you have no idea. <3
Anyway, I’m going to shut up now :)
Kaz xoxo