Chapter Nineteen: From Whence We Came

"To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven: "

As the graveside service began, Don was grateful that the sun was shining. It gave him a valid reason not to remove his sunglasses. Not that they were very effective in detouring attention from the row of stitches that graced his left cheekbone, but they did manage to conceal a good portion of the vivid bruise that surrounded his eye and covered most of the left side of his face.

"A time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;"

A sharp gust of wind caught him full in the face and Don felt child bumps rise across his arms and legs. The wind had continued to blow long after it had finally managed to push last week's storm up the coast. Now it was using the remainder of its strength to usher in the much cooler air of early November.

"A time to kill, and a time to heal;

a time to break down, and a time to build up;"

Another blast of winter air wind blew through the small group and Don was concerned by how pale and cold Charlie looked even under the bright sunlight. Trying to keep his mind off the words being spoken, he found himself rethinking his insistence that the doctor allow Charlie to attend the service. The nurse that Doctor Harper had insisted accompany them had also noticed the change in temperature and much to her credit she discreetly pulled the blanket further up over Charlie's shoulders.

"A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;"

Sitting stone still in his wheelchair, Charlie barely acknowledged her actions and it looked to Don like each breath he took seemed to be made with a great effort toward self containment. Much to Don's astonishment, so far today, Charlie had somehow managed to keep up with him in the emotional detachment department.

"A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;"

Oh, Don had found his tears. But he had found them alone. Last night. In his own room. In his own bed. And then he had found the strength to put them away and pull himself back out of that bed this morning. Yet in the absence of anger, any public display of emotion was still out of his reach.


"A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; "

Allowing himself the luxury of an unfortified emotional collapse just wasn't in his nature and he supposed it never would be. Charlie too had remained despondent throughout the funeral service and now here, graveside, his face was still a mask. Don found himself hoping that Charlie had found some way to express his grief. At this point, he would be happy with an outburst of any kind from his brother.


"A time to rend, and a time to sow; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

Robin's mother, a widower, had been seated next to Don and when she released a stifled sob, he reached over and patted her hand gently; grateful to see an open eruption of sorrow from amongst the mourners. She offered him a grateful smile through her tears before she turned her attention back to the preacher.

"A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war; and a time of peace."

To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven."

Charlie found himself strangely effected by the verse. He had expected the emotional draw of those words to be stronger. But instead of a rising sensation of loss and grief, he found an uncustomary surge of frustration and anger.

As the preacher launched into a full explanation of how everything happens for a reason, it took all the willpower Charlie had not to scream out over the man's mellow tenor and demand to know why people found it so hard to accept the idea that sometimes things happen for no reason. Trying to tell himself that Robin had been killed for some distinct purpose and that her death would serve a greater good was like him trying to convince Don that he didn't blame himself for what had happened and that he was going to be fine.

First of all it was never going to happen, and second, it was complete and utter bullshit.

Why did they always think that if they can convince you it was God's will and that God had a good reason for it…..that somehow that was going to make it all okay? That somehow that was going to make it hurt less? Funerals were supposed to make you feel better. They were supposed to give you release, then closure…and then hope. Instead, Charlie found himself drowning in a sea of guilt.

It didn't matter what Don said. It was impossible for him not to hold himself accountable for what had happened. From the minute he had stepped onto that Metro train on that warm summer night, he had set the events into motion that had brought them all to this place. Without his backpack, they never would have gotten involved in the Jose Menendez murder case. He never would have convinced Marcus to testify, so Robin never would have been in the position to defend him from a desperate psychopath. She never would have been in the position to lose her life this way. It came full circle back to him and the only other person he really could blame was Marcus. But he'd talked enough to the kid over the past few days to know that he already blamed himself for getting Charlie involved. He certainly didn't need him to dump even more guilt on his shoulders. And it didn't matter, anyway. If it wasn't for Charlie's subsequent choices after he met Marcus, Robin never would have died. He knew it to be fact, and no matter what Don said….or claimed to believe….he knew it too.

Charlie cut his eyes at his brother and was startled to find Don's head turned in his direction. He still wore his sunglasses….but the look on his bruised face was easy enough to read without eye contact. It seemed that Don could literally read his thoughts and seemed to be shaking his head at him. You can't blame yourself Charlie. He would have killed you too. Don had already told him that several times…..almost as if he were convincing himself. Still, Charlie kept saying those same words over and over to himself.

Robin had meant so much to Don. The preacher began to carry on about how special she was and it was the first thing he said that Charlie could agree with wholeheartedly. Robin was special and he'd never seen his big brother happier. But it seemed to Charlie that Don had already managed to conquer many of the same demons he had yet to face.

It was still there…in Don's eyes….and it still hurt him….it was obvious when he thought no one was looking. But the guilt was not blatantly visible. Not they way Charlie knew it was on his own face.

He could have killed you too. He really did want to convince himself that there had been nothing he could have done. Quickly diverting his eyes to the cluster of lilies on top of the mahogany coffin, Charlie blinked hard trying to erase the memories that plagued him every time he heard her name.

"Let us pray."

Movement out of the corner of his eye drew his attention to a cluster of trees that stood next to the grave sight. Marcus, Frankie and several other boys he did not recognize were standing together with their heads bowed. And much to his surprise, David and Olivia were standing with them.

"In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to Almighty God our sister Robin;"

Charlie was suddenly stuck with an almost painful revelation.

Maybe that was it.

For two young men the cycle of violence had been broken and with help and guidance from the right sources they would have the chance to show others how to break that cycle.

"and we commit her body to the ground; earth to earth; ashes to ashes, dust to dust."

If there could be a reason…..If it were possible that a greater good would come from what had happened to Robin…..what had happened to him……and to Don.

Maybe that was it.

"The Lord bless her and keep her, and give her peace."

He only hoped that was going to be enough. For all of them.

"Amen."

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Authors Notes: We have almost reached the end my friends. One more chapter to go. I hope the story is not petering out for you. If you're still with me…..Thanks!

Final Chapter

Chapter Twenty: Stop the World, I Want to Get Off