The casket was redwood.
It sat perched above a freshly dug grave, it's beautiful, glossy finish contrasting greatly against the silver handles of the device that would eventually lower the love of my life into the ground.
An intense ache shot through my chest, stealing the little breath that my lungs managed to grasp before walking into the cemetery – one place I never thought I would be to say goodbye to the one person I never thought I would have too.
My vision became blurry; two tears falling in parallel lines down my cheeks. The warmth of them tickled my skin, and as I closed my eyes, an image of his smiling face danced behind my lids – clearer than any high-quality film. I could feel his touch. My skin itching at the remembrance of his calloused fingers against my delicate skin; his bronze against my ashen.
"Shall we get started Mr. and Mrs. Harrison?"
With a small gasp, my eyes fluttered open, glancing at the preacher through my damp lashes. From the corner of my eye, I seen Mrs. Harrison nod; a neatly folded tissue placed to her lips that caught each shedding tear. Her husband wound his arm around her shoulders, bringing her into his chest.
"Dallas Harrison was a beloved son, brother, friend…"
And as the preacher bellowed over falling rain around us, I stared at the casket, knowing there wouldn't be a single thing said that I didn't already know. Nothing anyone could say about the boy that laid in that red wooden casket – a boy that had been ripped from my life in a way a blackhole ripped a galaxy from the universe; quickly and unapologetically.
There had been no warning, no indication that my life would change forever within a matter of seconds.
Another searing pain ripped through my chest, and I placed my palm there, wishing I could rub the ache away while still glowering at the casket. I watched as his mother stepped forward, placing a single, red rose atop of it, followed by his father and siblings. Then, I took a step, twisting the stem between my thumb and forefinger before placing it with the others.
And it was then that I let myself touch it – the surface felt smooth and cool underneath my fingertips, but I could still feel the slightest bit of distress that let me know it was real; real red wood bark.
I stepped back unsteadily, returning to my spot beside his sister and brother.
"It's red wood."
The voice that croaked from my throat sounded nothing like the girl that I had once knew.
A stiff breath sounded from my right, and I turned my head, a fresh tear falling onto my slightly parted lips. And as I stared into the eyes of his mother, I felt small. It was as if that, that simple statement could have been the final breaking point for her.
"Of course," his mother clipped, "it was his favorite after all."
I just stared at her for a moment, grief stealing my words again.
"It's time," the preacher announced gently, and her familiar golden eyes ripped from mine back to the casket.
Then mine followed suit. And as I should have been saying my final goodbye, all my mind could focus on was that the soil would sink into the casket's nook and crannies, eventually taking the shine and life away from that gorgeous red wood.