Chapter 9
November 24th, 2006
England
The sky was streaked with pink as the funeral procession made its way into the cemetery: the priest, the men bearing Kyle's casket, Kyle's parents, Bethany with baby Calleigh in a perambulator, Kyle's entire squadron, friends and finally Horatio and his whole CSI team. The mood was incredibly solemn and heartbreaking, Horatio could see it on everyone's faces and he felt it inside his own soul. Even baby Calleigh was grave and did no crying.
In accordance to Kyle's father's arrangements, a lone bagpiper from Scotland marched ahead of the party playing "Amazing Grace" and everyone carried a poppy flower to remember the vibrant young man who died so tragically. Later on in the funeral Bethany was to play Kyle's favorite song on the portable CD player she carried under baby Calleigh's pram, which song it was Horatio had no idea.
A fresh grave had already been dug underneath the shade of a tree and as the men carrying the casket gently lowered it into the ground, eyes red and their faces unsmiling, the men of Kyle's squadron removed their hats and the priest opened his Bible and found a prayer to read. As he listened, Horatio remembered other funerals passed: the funeral for his mother, Tim Speedle's funeral that seemed to have happened so long ago and just recently Marisol's. But this funeral was to be different, Horatio wasn't mourning the loss of a family member, comrade, or wife…he was grieving the loss of a friend.
The priest finished the prayer and began to speak words of comfort, though Horatio didn't feel any of it. All he saw and thought of was the sadness that he and everyone else were feeling.
"Would anyone wish to come forth and speak?" asked the priest.
A moment passed and then Horatio said, "I will."
The priest stepped back and gave him room and all bleary eyes turned attention to him. Horatio looked into those watery gazes and clearly his throat before he began to speak.
"I didn't know Wing Commander Shannon for very long," he said. "I only knew him for five years starting when he first came to Miami with his wife on a vacation. I know that he wasn't very well thought of, too, by others who had known or served with him…but I knew him as a bright, lively, and friendly young man who knew that the sky was the limit and that he lived his passion of piloting to the full." Horatio paused, fighting down the lump inside his throat. "But I think that I speak for both myself and the members of my team at the Miami-Dade crime lab when I say that Shannon will be sorely missed."
He walked to Bethany as everyone smiled at him in gratitude and hugged her. She kissed him on the cheek and whispered, "Thank you."
"There's no need," he said back and he went back to join his team.
The priest smiled softly. "Thank you, Lieutenant Caine," he said then looked at Bethany. "Mrs. Shannon?"
Bethany retrieved the CD player and walked over to a table on the left side of where the priest stood. She turned it on, tinkered with the CD tracks until she found the right one, and then turned to her fellow mourners.
"All of you knew that Kyle's second love was music," she said. "Classic rock, mostly, but he thought other stuff was good too…except rap."
Everyone laughed quietly.
Bethany wiped at her eyes, smiling softly, and then continued.
"And so, in keeping with his father's wishes and Kyle's as well, I shall play for you Wing Commander Shannon's favorite classic rock song…this is 'In the Lap of the Gods' by Alan Parsons Project."
She pressed the play button and the distance sound of a bell ringing heralded the beginning of the song. Everyone listened quietly throughout, until the roar of four Merlin engines brought their attentions skyward. Another Lancaster bomber was flying above them, the bomb bay doors opening to allow millions of poppy flower petals to waver in a slow shower of red toward the crowd: one last final goodbye from the air force that Kyle loved so much.
Horatio held out a hand, touching the petals as they fell to the ground, the song going into three-beat bass riffs. When he looked to the sky again he saw the bomber was gone. He was suddenly reminded of that old song about the US Air Force, and how it spoke about pilots' journeys into the sky for probably one last flight. And he knew that, somewhere up there, Kyle was flying in that wild blue yonder, looking down at the people he loved and smiling.
End