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In Memoriam
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Tony really never understood death.
He had never been religious, had never really thought about what comes after, until he found his mother. At that time he had been too young to understand what had happened; she just never came back. His nanny had said she went to heaven to play with other angels and play the piano. Tony had been happy for his mother; she hadn't smiled very much before she went.
He felt the void she left keenly through his teenage years, with his father shipping him off to Military School and married woman upon woman, he felt lost, isolated from the only person who had an inkling to what he felt.
Later in life, he had witnessed death up close. The old man had just keeled over walking along the sidewalk; a stroke.
That was the day Tony started wondering. At the tender age of eighteen, just starting his groovy career at college, he sat in a local church yard, watching the graves with an empty expression.
What awaited you after you died? Was there nothing but a black void, where you neither thought nor felt, or was there a soft city upon the clouds where angels danced in the sunshine? Perhaps he was going to be born anew; that'd be quite cool. Maybe he would become a racehorse; he had always loved going to the track to watch the races. He had once upon a time wished to become a jockey. His father had quickly squished any hopes; but Tony realised later that he didn't have the body to become one anyway – no great loss.
When he became a cop he witnesses his first murder. That night, Tony hadn't slept, but stayed awake, lightening candles and letting his repressed tears leak down his pale cheeks. It had felt as if someone was tightening a rope around his chest cavity, keeping him from breathing deeply enough.
Through his career as a cop he watched a lot of deaths; suicides, murders, accidents. No one was more horrible then the other. He even had to take some life; the guilty feeling was there, always; no matter what the person had done throughout their life.
He never got his answer, though. What happened after you went to sleep for good?
Tony slowly came to the conclusion that he was never going to understand death.
Tony understood pain very well, though.
He had been too young to really notice how much losing someone dear to you hurt when his mother left. That changed when he felt the warm spray of Kate's blood across his face and his eyes landed upon her still body; her eyes still glinting slightly with mirth. He had felt like someone had swooped down and settled a bag over his head, making him unable to really comprehend what had happened. She wasn't really dead, was she?
He hadn't slept that night, either. He had stayed up, lightening candles and letting his sore sobs rack through his body. It had been years since he felt the urge to light the candles. He had read somewhere, he didn't remember what religion or what culture is came from, but he had read that the lights were going to guide the dead's souls home. He liked to think that he helped them find some peace.
Gibbs had arrived at his door, looking worse for wear, around three am. Their eyes had locked and Tony had swept him into the glowing light of his apartment.
Paula's death came as a slap in the face. She had always been there, always since the trip to Guantanamo Bay. She had been in and out of his life, in and out of his bed. That was the first time he lost someone that he had been that intimate with. He had loved her in his own way, even if he wasn't in love with her.
That night he almost put his curtains on fire before Gibbs came and put a stop to it. There were enough candles.
Then Jenny died. Tony was the one skiving off his duties and let her go on some suicide mission, with Mike Franks of all people. Tony had never felt such guilt for any of the other he had had to kill in the line of duty before that day. He had maybe not pulled the killing trigger, but he felt the responsibility rest heavily on his broad shoulders. It didn't help that the new director had stormed in and sent him away.
The night before he was sent out on the god forsaken ship, Tony lit up one hundred candles in all shapes and shades. He sat alone all night, letting his guilty and bitter tears make small ponds on his wooden floor.
Gibbs never came.
A week into his stay at the ship he got a package; from Gibbs. Inside was a lone white candle. Tony let a tear sale its way down his face as he lit the light, putting it proudly on his bedside table, carefully making sure that it wouldn't fall over in the crashing waves that tortured Tony's new home.
Gibbs came after all.
He would never understand death; but he was going to cherish life and those in it that he loved and cared for until the day he went on the next journey to the unknown.
Just like in the movies.
Dedicated to my Grandfather, who passed away on 5 April, 2011.
And, sadly enough, also dedicated to my Grandmother, who passed away 22 Octobre, 2011.
She died half a year after her husband, with whom she'd been with for 47 years. May they rest in peace.
Edited 11/11, 2011