On His Knees
1865
"The Lord is my shepherd…," Reverend Timothy Johnson's solemn voice led the small gathering of mourners through the words of the Twenty-Third Psalms.
Byron Sully was oblivious to everything going on around him. He stood before the fresh graves of his wife and infant daughter, and wished he was lying in the cold ground too. He did not know how he was going to live without them.
The reverend ended the Bible verse with an 'amen', which was echoed by the other mourners, before they began to trickle out of the cemetery. A few cast sympathetic glances at the solemn young man whose family had been tragically stolen from him. Some even clutched tighter to their loved ones as they left, each understanding how fragile life was, and how easily the circumstances could have been reversed.
"Sully,"
Sully did not turn to acknowledge the reverend's presence behind him.
Reverend Johnson placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, "If there is anything that you need. If I can do anything to be of further assistance or if you need to talk, my door is always open."
*Talk?*
He did not want to talk. What he wanted to do was scream out to the heavens above the unfairness of it all. He wanted to curse God for taking his wife and daughter from him. He wanted…He had to bite his lip to keep from taking out his anger out on Reverend Johnson.
Sully was relieved when the hand slipped from his shoulder as he made his own departure. He heard thunder roar overhead in time with his turbulent emotions.
Abigail had always hated thunderstorms. She had been terrified of them ever since she was a small child. Whenever one passed through Colorado Springs, she had always cuddled close, seeking the comforting shelter of his arms, and he would whisper soothing words in her ear, promising to protect and love her always.
How he longed to hold her in his arms again. How he longed to whisper sweet nothings in her ears, and tell her everything was going to be all right, but he couldn't. Abigail was dead and he was never going to hold her again. He would never see her beautiful smile, smell her perfumed hair, or feel the touch of her soft skin against his.
Never would he hold their beautiful baby girl. He would not get to see Hannah's first smile, hear her first words, or see her take her first steps. He would never get to teach her about animals, help her learn her lesson, or give her away in marriage.
Sully fell to his knees in the soft dirt, shoulders shaking with the intensity of his emotions, as fat raindrops splattered him and the ground around him. He screamed out his anguish to the heavens above, cursing God for taking his family from him, and not caring whether he lived or died. Life no longer held any meaning for him now that Abigail and Hannah were gone. Nothing mattered to him anymore.