This has been on my computer for a while, and I have never quite plucked up the courage to post it… However here it is. Enjoy.
The End Is Nigh
'Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there, I do not sleep.' – Mary Elizabeth Frye (1932)
None of it seemed real. The mourners dressed in, nor the wind whistling through the trees around the graveyard. Yet here she was, stood at the grave of her best friend reading the poem that defined all feelings. Helen would never be sure how she managed to get through the poem without allowing her voice to crack, but she did…and she had owed him that much. As she finished she took one final look down at the simple wooden coffin and gently threw her rose down. It wasn't the traditional red rose that may have been expected, but instead a simple peach colour. The same colour of the roses in Vienna. She looked down once more part of her not wanting to step away from the grave, not wanting to accept that this was truly happening, but she did.
Walking back she took a final look around, she didn't need to be here any longer. Of course she knew many of the people gathered around, but there were also many that she didn't. She found it somewhat amusing that even after having been to such a number of funerals that she still found them so hard, if not for the same reasons as many. This dislike was summed up by the drifting words of a conversation she walked past.
'Such a shame, they say he'll be remembered as the leading scientist of a generation.' The words were enough to make her laugh a little. She wanted to stop, to tell them what a loads of rubbish that was. Nikola Tesla had been seen as nothing short of a nuisance by the authorities and his peers for much of his life. Why was it that now he was dead that would instantly change? Yet she didn't stop, there was no need.
The rest of the cemetery was quiet as she walked through, save the whistling of the wind, and the occasional crunch of a leaf as the person following her became less careful of their steps. Eventually she slowed beneath a set of large trees knowing that there was enough shadow to conceal her pursuer. 'You shouldn't be here…' The words were true, but that didn't mean she wasn't pleased that he had broken every promise he had made to her.
'I couldn't not…I had to see you one more time…' His voice was shaky, seemingly revealing the realisation that this was truly happening, and that there was no longer a way back. He stepped forward and slipped one of his hands into hers. He was desperate to get a final look at her face, but knew that it would just make things harder.
'I know…but you promised Nikola…' She should have been happy. She had been the only one around that graveside knowing that there was nothing inside the coffin being lowered into the ground, that the man they mourned was more than likely somewhere in the cemetery watching over the simple proceedings. Yet it seemed all the more difficult, knowing that he was so close…yet to the world he needed to be dead. 'I wish it could have been different.' She gently squeezed the hand that he had slipped into hers.
'Me too my love…' He reciprocated the feeling of tightness in her hand before gently letting go. 'Don't forget to remember me…' The words were further away from her this time. As he walked away he drank in the sight of her. Despite it only being her back he knew it was a sight that would stay with him a lifetime, and that it was likely to be the sight that guided him through whatever lay ahead of him.
Helen waited a moment before turning round. Of course he was gone…he hadn't been a fool enough to break that promise. With the realisation that it all ways but the physical sense that the man she loved was dead Helen felt her knees collapse beneath her as she fell to the soft ground. No longer able to hide the emotion she felt. Through her tears she couldn't stop her mind from going back to the phone call. The call that should never have come.
