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"Your coffin reached the monstrous hole. And a part of me went down into the muddy earth with you and lay down next to you and died with you."
― Rosamund Lupton, Sister
10
There is nothing that adequately describes the enormity of carrying the weight of that box out of the church towards the hearse. The sound of people breaking down even more so when it passes by them and the rustle of whispers. Those poor girls; that poor young family; that poor baby boy will never know his mother. Then there is the sickening, sickening moment when, as awful as the weight of it was, the absence of that weight when we place it in the back of the car is way worse. Putting it down and taking your hands away is a finality that rips you in two. There are no words that do justice to the pain of any of that.
Until you get to the part when the flowers have been placed on top, the driver pushes it in and closes the back, then switches on the car lights. That's when every sad story, every piece of emotive prose, every synonym, every word of empathy is obliterated, as the hearse begins to creep out of the driveway and we start to follow it. And it's not because we're supposed to out of protocol, it's because that damn car carrying that damn box sucks us with it like an unbreakable magnetic force. So I'm clinging to the arm of my brother-in-law, linked with my sister, and she's holding up my dad, and we follow that car out into the streets, dreading like hell the moment when it breaks away from us. And all we can hear is wailing and blubbering and sobbing. It doesn't feel like a dream, or a nightmare, or so bad that you feel like your body is there but the rest of you isn't. Those are misconceptions of people who have never felt what it's like watching your young, vital sister be taken away from you in a box. It feels far too fucking painful to be a nightmare or for your mind to be able to leave. It consumes you, holds you fixed to the earth, and screams at you to run the fuck after that car and never, ever let it leave.
The burial was private, immediate family only. We needed the space to do this how we wanted to, with no pressure and no one watching. After they lowered my sister into the ground, we each selected a yellow rose tied with a black silk ribbon and dropped it down to her. Then Jasper passed me, Alice, Emmett, his parents, and Charlie each a black helium balloon tied on a yellow silk ribbon. Emmett held two, one for him, one for Ben. I looked up at them, dancing in the breeze, before I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned and saw my mother slowing making her way through the grass and headstones. With a sigh, I went over to the basket of flowers, collected a rose, and untied the last balloon from the handle. With my back turned, I took a moment to compose myself, before moving to meet Renee as she approached us. Without saying anything, I held them out to her. She paused, swallowing the enormity of what I was giving her, both physically and symbolically. She took them gingerly from my hands, giving a slight nod before following me back to the group. For once she didn't say anything. I looked at Ben in the crook of Emmett's arm, sleeping peacefully, before Alice broke our silence.
"These are for Rose, to follow her up to the heavens. They're bittersweet in so many ways. They bounce around in the wind happily, yet they're as black as our hearts feel right now. Rose was always classy and beautiful in black, yet always our bright, sunshine Rose. Bella and I weren't so sure when she first told us we would be wearing yellow at her wedding," she said with a stilted laugh. She sighed before continuing. "When I release this string and it flies away, it's not the same as releasing Rose, of letting her go. I'll never let her go."
I didn't want us to say any more, and I certainly wasn't going to say goodbye. Alice was right; we would never let her go, not fully. So I grabbed onto my sister even tighter, looked up at my balloon, and opened my fingers. Watching me, she did the same, sending the message to the rest of the family that we didn't want any definitive farewells.
Nine black balloons twisted up into the sky, their yellow trails painting the blue behind them. I wished I could feel that weightless – to feel like I was levitating a mere centimeter off the earth for even for a few short seconds.