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Chapter 10: Black Sparks

Dear God Above,

How is it that you can carry the fate of everyone in the world. The thought frightens me because within an instant someone could be taken from my life in a heart-beat. It scares me completely.

Black. The dress I wore was black. After all, it would be out of place for me to wear any other color there is out there. It seemed that this funeral was the only thing I had a say in, but I didn't want to think about it at all.

I took a quick glance at myself in the mirror and I felt sick. My make-up was equally as dark as the dress and my face was the color of a mannequin's. I turned away from the mirror and sighed heavily, my looks could never please me.

There was a knock at my bedroom door and I voiced the okay to come in. My country-side friend was dressed in a black tuxedo and he wore a morose face. He took a hold of my hand wordlessly and lead me out of the bedroom.

The house seemed to be at a stand-still since my grandfather's death two days before. The TV was off and the could was disheveled from his breathing pangs. My heart ached for a second as I passed by the living room, but I squeezed his hand to help me get by without crying. I was so glad that I had him for a friend. He lead me out of the house and into my grandpa's old car.

The drive was very quiet. He understood how fragile the situation was and also did not want to tamper with our friendship. He cared enough to not be one of those nagging kind of friends that asked, 'Are you okay?' about situations where I obviously was not okay.

We pulled up to the church that I regularly attended each week and I exhaled deeply. I was told that I was giving a spech about my grandpa. I had everything I wanted to say in my mind, I was just worried that it would all come out as a blur and no one would understand a word I was saying.

There were not too many people at the funeral, I think about sixty, and so I felt a little bit of pressure fall off my shoulders. I approached the front of the church and took a stand right behind the podium. I cleared my throat before speaking into the microphone that was set up.

"My grandfather was probably one of the greatest influences on my life. He was always trying to put a smile on my face in any situation.

"When I was five years old, he took me to a beach once. He picked up a handful of sand, but it slipped right through his fingers. Then he asked me, 'Sweetie, do you know why it slips through so easily?' I shook my head in reply, then he said, 'It's because you cannot capture perfection with your hands, you have to witness it with your eyes.'

"I have never forgotten what he said that day, and I have been living by that motto for as long as I can remember. My grandfather understood the balances of life and the world, and he was like the sand. You could not hold him in your hands for too long, because he was not meant to be taken, he was meant to be a person that was seen for who he was.

"My grandfather had an immense impact on my life. Even if I was not related to him, I would have to say that I would still look up to him. His death was something that was both unexpected and tragic, and I hope that we can all learn that life is so precious."

I lowered my head. I knew that my speech lacked comprehension and that no one would applaud it. After a second of silence, I turned away from the podium and began to step down.

Just as I walked down, a single clap was heard and it echoed throughout the church. I quirked my head in the direction it came from and saw an elderly man sitting in the front row. I gave him a sympathetic smile and continued my walk.

But, the clapping did not stop. I watched as more and more people clapped their hands together. I forced back tears and nodded my head as I came to the last step. By the time I reached the bottom, every person in the church was standing up to recognize me.

I found a seat by my lavender haired friend and he patted me on the shoulder before whispering,

"That was very sentimental."

"Thank you." I whispered back.

The elderly man who clapped for me earlier went up to the podium to say a few words after me. He talked about the times when him and my grandpa were young and how they became friends. It was a sweet message, and I clapped heartily for him.

When the funeral was over, I was left in tears. My grandfather's death was taking a toll on me and I could not stop it. Two kind hands lead me out of the church and back into my grandpa's old worn out car, and once again, he did not say a word.

The home looked bare and unsettled. I felt my stomach form about five knots that I knew would take forever to untangle. I opened the car door, but instead of going up to the home, I turned in the direction of the countryside.

Just as I passed by his striking blue eyes, I whispered, "I need some time alone." and he nodded, understanding my situation.

I walked lazily into the grass that marked where I needed to be. The scenery was lovely, it was summer after all, and my eyes got lost in the view for a moment. The trees were full with leaves, and bees were buzzing around flowers.

After a five minute walk, I found that I was in an unfamiliar place. There were no shrubs or greenery, just brown dirt covering a desolate area. I allowed a sigh to escape my lips as I sat down on the rough soil.

"Grandpa are you better now?" I aimlessly asked the sky. I did not recieve a reply.

I pulled my knees up to my chin and rested my head comfortably. The world was quiet today, for there were no sounds from the birds nor rustling from the ground animals. I inhaled deeply, gathering my thoughts, and felt at peace for the first time that day.

"Grandpa, what did you mean when you said there was someone right before my eyes?" I inquired with a gaze upward. "Were you talking about him? The boy who has been helping me cope?"

The wind howled in response and I became more alert. If it was true, then what did he mean by it? Did he mean like a brother, or as something more? I shook my head as hundreds of ideas popped up. All I knew was that he was there for me.

With that last thought, I pushed myself off the dusty earth and headed back to the home. I realized that I needed to pull myself through this rough delimma even if it might take a while. I also realized that I had someone that was willing to help me through this, and he was waiting soundlessly at my grandpa's home.

When I made it back home, I smiled. I pushed open the front dor and found a headful of lavender hair sitting on the couch eating potato chips. He quirked hsi head toward me and for the first time that day, said something.

"I'm so glad that you are home."