It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the birds were singing and there was just enough of a breeze to keep it from being too hot. But a grey drizzle would have suited Jarrod better, or even a torrential downpour, as he listened to the reverend.
"1Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted."
That was more than likely true, but Jarrod wasn't sure he could really mourn. Even though only his family and the reverend were present, there was no way he could show the grief that was slowly consuming him. Men didn't cry; he'd had that beaten into him by his father when he cried over the death of his puppy and again for the tears he shed for the little brother who'd been born too soon.
"Crying means you're weak," he remembered his father's gruff voice telling him as he readied his belt. "The sooner you learn that, the stronger a man you'll be." After the second time, Jarrod managed to even control the whimpers of pain from the sharp of the leather strap and vowed he'd never again show weakness in front of anyone.
He certainly hadn't been able to mourn over his father's grave. He couldn't even allow himself the luxury of tears when he was alone; that fatal bullet made him the head of the family, everyone was looking to him to be the strong leader his father had been and Jarrod had to do everything he could to protect that image.
Now here he was again. Another fatal bullet had ripped a hole in his heart that he wasn't able to show. He felt his mother's small hand slip into his in a gesture of comfort, but if anything, it only made him feel worse. At some point he would likely be standing in the same spot as her body was lowered to the ground and another woman he loved, the one who'd given birth to him, would be denied his tears as well.
"2 'Where have ye laid him?' They said unto him, 'Lord, come and see.' Jesus wept."
It wasn't fair, Jarrod thought bitterly, that the Lord could weep for a friend and he couldn't shed one tear over someone he'd loved so dearly, if so briefly. But it also wasn't fair that he was dwelling on his shortcomings instead of the life cut so short, so he tried to concentrate on the reverend's words as the service drew to a close.
"3I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth. He will not suffer thy foot to be moved: He that keepeth thee will not slumber. Behold, He that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord is thy keeper: the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand. The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil: He shall preserve thy soul. The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore."
Jarrod accepted the reverend's words of comfort, the hug from his mother and the heartfelt condolences of his brothers as two of the ranch hands filled in the grave and they all gave him a moment alone when it was done. He knelt and carefully laid the yellow flower on the freshly turned earth in the only outward show of sorrow he could make.
"Goodbye, Beth."
1Matthew 5:4
2John 11:34-35
3Psalms 121