Epilogue: October 28th, 2024

It was a bright day filled with glorious sunshine, as an exceedingly beautiful woman with long, flowing dark hair and wearing shades stepped into the Forest Lawn cemetery. The sunglasses were mostly for protection, though not just from the sun; they were just enough of an obfuscation to act as decent prevention from being recognized.

In her hands, Courteney Cox carried a bouquet of flowers. There was a small tote bag slung over her shoulder. With quick and determined strides fueled by purpose, she headed for the niches.

The flush panels in the wall were set in an outdoor mausoleum called the Sanctuary of Treasured Love, and looked just the same as they had when she had last been here, some weeks ago. The first time she had been in this place, 51 weeks ago, was still difficult to think about.

Courteney scanned along the wall of names, specifically the bottom row, the one closest to the ground. A few names leaped out at her: Michael Clark Duncan, of The Green Mile fame. Betty Davis. Paul Walker from the Fast and Furious franchise, gone more than a decade now. Carrie Fisher's final resting place made Courteney suck in a breath – there were still, nearly eight years on, little Princess Leia dolls and keychain lightsaber mementos adorning her niche (that she lay at rest close by was ironic, considering that Carrie's half-sister Tricia had, according to Matthew's book, taken his virginity back in the 1980s). At last, Courteney found the one she was looking for. Even now, reading the name was startling, enough to make her eyes jerk to a halt from where they had been scanning:

MATTHEW LANGFORD PERRY

August 19th, 1969 ~ October 28th, 2023.

The niches themselves were void of pretension, largely by design. While this was a star-studded cemetery, in the heart of LA, fans on pilgrimage would receive no help from the staff for directions to a particular gravesite. If you were dedicated enough, it was on you to do the research on your own.

Smiling wistfully, Courteney set her tote bag down and knelt before the niche carrying the ashes of the man to whom she had been married in front of millions of viewers across America, as another woman. In another reality.

Perhaps in another lifetime….

Certainly in another existence. A better place than this.

She shook her head to clear it. "Hey there, my darling."

She opened her tote bag and pulled out a cache of cleaning supplies.

Courteney glanced about furtively. If anyone wandered by, they would have quite the photo opportunity to capture Monica Geller performing her classic cleaning ritual. Thankfully, no one was close by, though that may yet change. Even exactly one year after his untimely passing, there was gathered on the ground beneath Matthew's niche little trinkets left behind by disconsolate fans. Full, handwritten notes. Occasionally, when she visited here, Courteney would study the notes, and read them. The words, written with such eloquence, time and care by total strangers, almost always moved her to tears.

She couldn't afford to read them now, or be moved by them. She couldn't clean his grave with her tears.

Taking aim with the HomeCourt squirt bottle (a cleaning product line she had designed and promoted herself), Courteney sprayed some cleaning solution on her TV husband's grave and began to wash it tenderly. The gathered clumps of dust, pollen and leaf detritus were scrubbed away quickly.

Courteney worked up some elbow grease, polishing Matthew's niche to a shine. With the burnish bottle, she traced over every letter of his names. His dates. His dash. The words from a famous poem by Linda Ellis came to mind:

I read of a man who stood to speak… at the funeral…. of a friend. He referred to the dates on the tombstone from the beginning to the end. He noted that first came the date of birth and spoke of the following date with tears. But he said what mattered most of all was the dash between those years.

When the niche gleamed, when she was satisfied she could see her own face in it, Courteney sat back on her heels with a sad smile. She inhaled deeply, lifting her face heavenward, her gaze casting along the rows of niches above her.

…. She had always felt concerned about Matthew's niche being closest to the ground. She was grateful for it, now, of course, so that she didn't have to reach while tending to him. But it might have been nice to place him a level or two higher, at least at eye level, but also closer to heaven….

He was in heaven. Courteney knew it, believed it, deep in her soul. For all that wonderful man had had to suffer, to endure, here on Earth, he had better be in heaven. Jennifer had said it best to her once: "If that beautiful man isn't with the angels, then there is no hope for the rest of us!"

Courteney smiled as she thought of the stolen moments she had had with Matthew in her subconscious. In the beginning, he had alluded to being in a 'happy place.' Exactly what that place was, he'd never said – perhaps he was confident that, one day, she would figure it out.

The cleaning product had to be dry by now. Touching a finger to the corner of the niche, Courteney stooped forward and pressed a tender kiss to his name. Caressed the date he was born. Swallowed hard as she read the date of his death.

Matthew still visited her, though those moments were becoming gradually more and more infrequent. Courteney dreaded the day when those would stop completely, and still held out hope they never would. Sometimes, even when she couldn't feel his presence, she would take a moment to pause and be still, talk to him about her day. What Coco was up to. She would usually refrain from discussing politics, just as she would with most of the living, though she had no doubt that Matty would be shaking his head with disgust at what was going on: the presidential election was little more than a week away: Joe Biden was soldiering on, if showing his age; Trump – a convicted felon – was babbling like a Tourette's patient badly in need of some Risperdone. She set aside these distressing thoughts for now, in favor of drifting back into memory:

Their greatest moments as Matthew and Courteney, and also as Monica and Chandler, came wafting back to her:

You know, if we were a couple, we could play this game naked….

All right, I'll tell you what: when we're 40, if neither of us were married…. what do you say you and I get together and have one?...

Would Courteney be the bike?

Maybe Little Matty could help out with that….

I'm a man who has his priorities straight. It's a Rolling Stones cover, and I'm checking Courteney out…

I was very lucky to marry Courteney Cox. Even on TV….

I saw his face on a bus, and he looked so cute…

When we were working on Friends, he gave me my personality for ten years…

Out of the guys, I'm closest with Matthew Perry. He's a great friend. He cracks me up…

I was really closest with Courteney….

Now, here we are…. with our future before us…. and I only want to spend it with you: my prince…. My soulmate…. My friend.

Courteney felt the tears coming on, fast and hard, but she didn't move to wipe them away. Her mind now took her to a song that Coco had been practicing recently for an audition intensive course at her college. With one slight tweak, it seemed rather apt:

Didn't you know, Matty…. That you're all I'm living for? So how can you go, Matty… when I need you more and more?

You and the world we knew will glow, till my life is through;/
For you're part of me from this day on.
And someday if I should love, it's you I'll be dreaming of, /
For you're all I'll see from this day on.
These hurried hours were all the life we could share.
Still, I will go with not a tear, just a prayer /
That when we are far apart, you'll find something from your heart /
Has gone! Gone with me from this day on.

Bowing her head, her heart overflowing its banks, Courteney began to weep.

"Goodbye, Matthew – and don't forget, every day, every night…. I love you!" Her sobs threatened to overtake her. Still, she managed to say the words, murmur them over and over again with fervent truth, her truth, like a prayer. "I love you!... I love you….. I love you….."

A/N: "So many men seemed destined, to settle for something small... But I won't rest until I know I've had it all! So don't ask where I'm going - just listen when I'm gone... and far away you'll hear me singing, softly to the dawn... Rivers belong where they can ramble... Eagles belong where they can fly... I've got to be where my spirit can run free. Gotta find my corner of the sky..." ~ Stephen Schwartz, Pippin.