The rain came down in sheets and the umbrellas those standing around
the grave held were, to say the least, quite worthless.
(The world was reluctant to let her go without a fight.)
The priest, a tall, solemn man dressed in the traditional garb, spoke quietly of her life, of her impact on those she'd loved and of her future in eternal peace. The fight, he said, was finally over. She would no longer suffer. She was with God.
The crowd watched these proceedings with empty eyes. There was some talk of her laughter, her kindness, her last miserable months fighting that which had killed her. but suddenly there was word of something else. Something that had been largely forgotten, and seemed a plague on the tongues of those who spoke.
He'd been gone for some years now, and his departure was still quite a mystery.
Her beloved son, her only love after the tragic death of her husband, vanished. Here one night, gone the next- in a storm that rivaled the one they were all standing in at the moment.
It was believed he'd finally been unlucky in those notoriously unscrupulous business dealings of his- she'd always blamed herself for it. She had, after all, allowed him that confounded machine which he'd become so connected to so quickly.
But they knew it wasn't really her fault. She was a good mother who had only done right by her child. Her darling Tommy, a young prodigy with a passion for technology and a promising future. A boy who was dearly loved by those who knew him.
There were whispers of her devastation following the phone call. Missing, presumed dead. Our deepest sympathies, Mrs. Anderson, but you've just lost your pride and joy. There is, quite simply, nothing we can do.
Her smiles had all but disappeared that night. She no longer laughed the way she used to. It was as if a dark cloud had taken up permanent residence over her life, and she was content surviving underneath it.
A husband and a son in the span of a decade. What a tragedy.
But that was life. She knew this eventually, and towards the end, she'd finally begun to live again- coming out of retirement to teach and even booking a trip to the places in the world that she'd always wanted to see.
She would never get over the loss of her son- she had loved him too dearly- but it was in his memory that she lived. It was what he would have wanted.
Then came the cancer.
They had watched as the dreaded thing ate away at her body and then, sadly, her mind. The final days with her were dreadful- she was in great pain and delirious, crying out for her son who she was convinced would come and take her away from this world.
He never did. She had died on a Tuesday in a sterile hospital room surrounded by cold people.
They watched as the priest closed his book, now, and gestured for them to give their final goodbyes. In a single file line, everyone who'd cared enough to come and stand in the rain on this sad day laid roses on the glossy surface of the coffin. The closed their eyes and remembered her. but walked away and forgot.
Something no-one saw, however, was the leather clad couple standing just feet from the new grave. A man and a woman who, at first glance, would appear to be young professionals or fetish club goers.
Oblivious of the rain, they donned sunglasses and stood, quite motionless, watching as the funeral procession begin to depart.
"She never knew." He gave a sad sigh, and ran a hand through his soaking wet hair. "I miss her."
"I know."
(The world was reluctant to let her go without a fight.)
The priest, a tall, solemn man dressed in the traditional garb, spoke quietly of her life, of her impact on those she'd loved and of her future in eternal peace. The fight, he said, was finally over. She would no longer suffer. She was with God.
The crowd watched these proceedings with empty eyes. There was some talk of her laughter, her kindness, her last miserable months fighting that which had killed her. but suddenly there was word of something else. Something that had been largely forgotten, and seemed a plague on the tongues of those who spoke.
He'd been gone for some years now, and his departure was still quite a mystery.
Her beloved son, her only love after the tragic death of her husband, vanished. Here one night, gone the next- in a storm that rivaled the one they were all standing in at the moment.
It was believed he'd finally been unlucky in those notoriously unscrupulous business dealings of his- she'd always blamed herself for it. She had, after all, allowed him that confounded machine which he'd become so connected to so quickly.
But they knew it wasn't really her fault. She was a good mother who had only done right by her child. Her darling Tommy, a young prodigy with a passion for technology and a promising future. A boy who was dearly loved by those who knew him.
There were whispers of her devastation following the phone call. Missing, presumed dead. Our deepest sympathies, Mrs. Anderson, but you've just lost your pride and joy. There is, quite simply, nothing we can do.
Her smiles had all but disappeared that night. She no longer laughed the way she used to. It was as if a dark cloud had taken up permanent residence over her life, and she was content surviving underneath it.
A husband and a son in the span of a decade. What a tragedy.
But that was life. She knew this eventually, and towards the end, she'd finally begun to live again- coming out of retirement to teach and even booking a trip to the places in the world that she'd always wanted to see.
She would never get over the loss of her son- she had loved him too dearly- but it was in his memory that she lived. It was what he would have wanted.
Then came the cancer.
They had watched as the dreaded thing ate away at her body and then, sadly, her mind. The final days with her were dreadful- she was in great pain and delirious, crying out for her son who she was convinced would come and take her away from this world.
He never did. She had died on a Tuesday in a sterile hospital room surrounded by cold people.
They watched as the priest closed his book, now, and gestured for them to give their final goodbyes. In a single file line, everyone who'd cared enough to come and stand in the rain on this sad day laid roses on the glossy surface of the coffin. The closed their eyes and remembered her. but walked away and forgot.
Something no-one saw, however, was the leather clad couple standing just feet from the new grave. A man and a woman who, at first glance, would appear to be young professionals or fetish club goers.
Oblivious of the rain, they donned sunglasses and stood, quite motionless, watching as the funeral procession begin to depart.
"She never knew." He gave a sad sigh, and ran a hand through his soaking wet hair. "I miss her."
"I know."