The obligatory "I-don't-own-any-of-the-characters" line: Of course Superman doesn't belong to me. And the song is Peter Gabriel's.
The obligatory "Please-review-on-my-story" line: They are nice after all.
2-24-07
Snow.
I've always hated snow. The worst moments of my life always seem to somehow be connected to a flurry of powdery, white precipitation.
It was during a particularly awful blizzard that the General first told Lucy and me about Mom's sickness. I remember it because I had been sitting in the windowsill watching the white stuff swirling in the fierce wind when he came up and put a hand on my shoulder. I was so shocked at his show of affection that I almost fell out of the window. Lucy joined us seconds later. After he told us, Lucy cried while I turned my attention back to the snow, pressing up against the coldness of the window as much as I could in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. I thought that if I made my body cold, that I would be able to somehow freeze my emotions. Instead, I ended up shivering controllably as my tears streamed down my face.
The next winter, the week before Christmas, we buried her. Flurries had been falling for a good while by then, so the ground and trees were entirely white. The day of the funeral, the sun had decided to come out. Under any other circumstances, I would have been amazed at how dazzling the light was reflecting off of the flakes, causing the entire landscape to sparkle, like tiny diamonds had been spread across the earth. But that day, nothing was beautiful to me. In fact, I resented the snow for seeming so happy when I was so broken inside.
Lucy transferred to boarding school a few weeks later, just in time to start the spring semester. She and I had always been close. At school, we had always abandoned the kids in our grades and played with each other at recess. We didn't make friends with the neighborhood kids, either. We knew that we wouldn't be staying for long, and so the only stable play partner that we ever had was each other. Lucy looked up to me and confided everything in me. When she left, I took it hard. I was able to keep back the tears as I watched the plane lift off and as we drove back to our small house on the base. But once I got back to my room, I threw myself on my bed and cried, feeling utterly alone. At one point, I looked up and saw the snow falling softly and serenely on the other side of my window. I stared at it with narrowed eyes, hating every single flake.
So it was no surprise to me when thick snow was falling the day of Jonathan Kent's funeral. Large flakes were descending from the grey sky, landing softly in the mourners' hair and carpeting the tombstones and monuments with a fluffy white layer. The snowy blanket covering the cemetery stood in sharp contrast to the black mourning clothes that all those in attendance were wearing.
It seemed like the entire population of Smallville had shown up. There was the principal from Smallville High standing next to the mayor. Sheriff Tate was softly patting the shoulder of the old woman who owned the antique shop next to the Talon. A woman Chloe identified as Nell, Lana Lang's aunt, was holding hands with a man I assumed was her husband. Even Lionel Luthor himself had shown up. Lex, however, was nowhere to be seen.
I stood next to Chloe, who had tears falling freely and silently down her cheeks. I knew that she had looked up to Mr. Kent with much deserved respect. When she wasn't gazing somberly at the coffin, she was looking across toward the Kents, her love and concern for them clearly etched on her face.
Mrs. Kent's eyes were red and swollen, and occasionally tears leaked from them. Her head tilted slightly to the side in her melancholy, she simply stared at the dark wood casket. One hand was touching the pearl necklace around her neck and the other was holding her handkerchief, which she brought to her eyes when those rogue tears escaped. Her pretty face looked so sad, and her usually confident and strong frame was sagging, as if she had lost her source of strength. And perhaps she had.
Clark, on the other hand, simply stood next to his mother, an impenetrable fortress of hidden emotion. His face betrayed no sign of grief or sadness. That is, except for the faraway look in his eyes. I had been privy to some father-son arguments in the Kent household, but it was easy to see how deep and strong their relationship ran. So I knew that no matter what Clark's outward appearance showed, inside I knew that he was weeping bitterly.
After the ceremony, the mourners formed a line to extend their condolences to the family. Mrs. Kent graciously accepted everyone's hands and praises for Mr. Kent and politely declined any offers to bring food over to the farmhouse. Clark merely shook hands and nodded his head, remaining silent and unreadable the entire time.
Chloe and I were last in line. Mrs. Kent pulled Chloe into a hug, and they both let loose a few more tears. Then Mrs. Kent stepped back and held Chloe at arm's length, her hands on my cousin's shoulders. Chloe covered Mrs. Kent's right hand with her own right hand, then Mrs. Kent let her go. Chloe moved over to Clark while Mrs. Kent pulled me into an embrace.
"Thank you for being here, Lois," she said as she hugged me. "It means a lot to Clark and to me."
"Of course, Mrs. Kent. I couldn't miss this. He was like a father to me."
Then she pulled away and smiled at me sadly but seriously. "And he considered you his daughter. We both did." She put a hand on my arm as my eyes began watering. Unable to speak, I merely nodded.
When I looked over at Chloe and Clark, I saw that Chloe was sobbing into his chest while he held her, looking off into the distance but not really seeing anything. I put a hand on Chloe's shoulder and she jerked her head from his chest, sniffing and wiping her eyes. She nodded at me, gave Clark's arm a squeeze, and began to walk off to wait for me.
Clark looked down at me, and I finally saw sadness behind his baby blues. Unsure of how to approach this, I squeezed his bicep and told him with my eyes how sorry I was. I thought I saw a tear forming, but before I could find out for sure, he pulled me into a quick, strong embrace.
"Thanks, Lois," he whispered into my neck.
I didn't need to ask why.
Seeing Lana approaching from my left, I patted his back and pulled away, offering him a thoroughly uncomforting smile. Then I walked over to where Chloe was and we began walking away.
I heard Chloe stop behind me, so I turned around and saw her gazing back at Clark, who was now holding Lana's hand. I didn't need to see Chloe's face to know that her grief had been joined by sadness and probably a hint of jealousy. After a few seconds, she turned around and I led the way to my car.
We climbed in silently and shut our doors. I started it up and sat back, knowing that it would take a little while to warm up. We sat in silence for a minute or two until I spoke.
"I almost feel like I've lost a part of myself," I said, staring at the flakes powdering the windshield.
Chloe sighed. "I know what you mean."
I turned to her, all seriousness etched into my features. "Jonathan Kent was the only man that I ever felt like properly fulfilled the position of 'Dad.' Hell, I don't think I've ever once in my life called the General 'Dad.' It just never felt right. He was always so distant, especially after Mom died. It was almost as if he was afraid that he would screw up if he tried raising us, so he let us raise ourselves. Or, more appropriately, he let me raise Lucy. For all intents and purposes, I've been an orphan for years now.
"But when I first stepped foot in the Kent home, I felt like I belonged. And when I was staying there, having no place else to go, I felt like I was a part of a family, complete with an annoying younger brother." Chloe and I shared a laugh before I continued. "As I grew closer to Mr. Kent, he began to lecture me and treat me as if I were his own child. He would show disappointment in me for my failures and lapses in judgement, but he would also display his approval and happiness when I would make the right decision."
I began to tear up, but I refused the let the tears fall until I was done speaking.
"And now, I feel lost. I have no guiding light anymore. The world seems so dark and scary and I don't know how I'm going to make it through. Jonathan Kent was the shining example of how a person should live, and the world is that much darker having lost him." I let out a hoarse bark of a laugh. "If I feel this bad, I can't even begin to imagine how Clark and Mrs. Kent feel."
When I returned my gaze to Chloe, having diverted it back to the snow halfway through my rant, I saw her looking at me with tears in her own eyes and a smile on her face. "You know, Lo, I think you should have been the one to give the eulogy. That was beautiful."
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah right." But I was smiling.
I turned my attention to the dashboard and put the car in gear.
"Come on, Chlo. Let's go home."
Nodding, she reached and turned the radio on. We drove home in silence, except for the music.
There was only one I recall
It was all so different then
Nothing yet has really sunk in
Looks like it always did
This flesh and bone
It's just the way that we are tied in
But there's no one home
I grieve
For you
When you leave
Me
So hard to move on
Still loving what's gone
See, life carries on
Carries on and on
And on
And on
The news that truly shocks
Is the empty, empty age
While the final rattle rocks
Its empty, empty cage
And I can't handle this
I grieve
For you
You leave
Me
Let it out and move on
Missing what's gone
See, life carries on
See, life carries on
And on
And on
Life carries on in the people I meet
And everyone that's out on the street
Even the dogs and cats
In the flies and rats
In the rot and the rust
In the ashes and the dust
Life carries on and on and on and on
Life carries on and on and on
Life carries on and on and on and on
Life carries on and on and on
Just the car that we ride in
The home we reside in
The face that we hide in
The way we are tied in
As life carries on and on and on and on
Life carries on and on and on
Did I dream this belief
Or did I believe this dream
How I will find relief
I grieve