Page 50 of End Of Never

Pulling Haley in, Hayden doesn’t move from his statue state. “You two go get some coffee and some food. Give me a minute. He’ll come back.” I give her my wallet and look at Lilla, who takes her hand. I give Lilla a quick kiss, then I send them on their way.

The chapel is mute, the only sound is our breathing. I clear my throat, because what do you say to a person whose ground just fell out beneath them? How do you save them when they are falling faster than you can reach them? “Hay.” His eyes stare at the front of the room, “Look at me, Hayden.” His eyes begin to water, “Now.” His dark water-teared eyes find mine, and the moment they lock with mine, the dam breaks, tears free-fall like rivers down his face. His chest begins to puff, as his shoulders shake up and down, and a gut-wrenching sob escapes. With each tear, the shaking intensifies, and his breath becomes audible. “Let it out, man. It’s just you and me.” His chin quivers as his fists form into balls, as he tries to smother the torment.

“I should have been there.” His voice is deep, fueled by loathing. “He died alone, just like my mother–” He chokes on his words. “Both my parents were out of reach when they died…I couldn't save either of them…” Misery casts a shadow over his features as his eyes drop; defeat wraps him like a warm blanket. There is nothing I can say to comfort him; there are no words that can bring him back, no sense of pre-warning that tonight would be the night. His cries become silent sobs. The emotional grief overwhelms him, stealing his voice, as he shakes, his breath releasing rapidly, as tears cascade down his cheeks onto my shoulder. That’s when I feel it. His heart is physically breaking. His knees weaken as his once-strong body leans into mine, silently begging to be held up, to be saved from this intense torture.

Loss is more than losing someone. Loss is losing someone and losing a part of yourself. It’s carrying guilt even when it isn’t valid; in our minds, it rings true. It’s the unknowns and the memories that slowly eat us alive. It’s the "I should have done this" or "could have done that" scrutiny that makes us think we could have done more. That is where Hayden is right now; his mind is telling him all the things he should have done. Next will come the wishes that he hoped would come true once upon a time. But death isn’t a fairy tale, and unlike a fairy tale, there is no magic to bring him back, no pause in time, and no happily ever after. In this room now, there is only complete heartbreak, and a shattered soul who only wanted to save his father. Not saving in the sense of stopping him from dying, we have already established that this is no Disney movie. No, he wanted to save him, in the sense of holding him and telling him he loved him one last time, but more importantly, Hayden needed to be told everything would be alright; he needed reassurance that he could make it through this. He wanted to be there to bring him peace when he took his last breath, or so he thinks.

You can prepare for someone to die, you can know it’s coming, but it doesn’t lessen the blow. It doesn’t take away the heartbreak; it intensifies the memories, making them burn like acid, all the plans you had and the hopes you held on to vanish into thin air.

The last time is never supposed to be the last time.

The last smile. Last conversation, last hug, kiss, wave.

Because the truth is, if you love someone, there is no right time, no magic number, or moment that deems right. The truth is, time is never long enough.

Love makes us believe in forever, but that simply can not be.

Love is eternal, but the time we have to give and share love is not.

Life runs out, but love doesn't.

In this moment, a life has run out, and I’m hoping as hell Hayden holds onto the love.

Today, we put Mr.Wilder to rest. The clouds hang low, hiding the sun, creating an atmosphere much like how we feel. There is no joy in our hearts or warmth in our smiles; there is only sadness that lingers with each hug and a dull ache that follows every ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ comment, none of us have a response to, because we’re sorry, too.

I stand in front next to Hayden. While Lilla and Haley sit in the second row directly behind us. Hayden’s eyes scan the golden oak casket, lingering on the flowers that sat atop. I can’t tell if he is admiring the beauty or hating the way they live, just as I hate the grass beneath for being too green, too lively. How the trees stand tall with emerald leaves hanging and flowing in the soft wind, their trunks strong and sturdy, having lived for hundreds of years. “It’s as if the beauty of nature is mocking the dead.” My words fall without permission.

Hayden turns to me with hurt in his eyes. “Took the thought right from me.”

An older woman strolls over with her cane and stands in front of Hayden. “Hello, sweetheart.” She looks at the casket, following Hayden’s gaze. “Nature isn’t mocking my dear, it is rejoicing. Welcoming home this wonderful man.” She wobbles slowly down the path as she finds her seat. Hayden and I say nothing because we simply disagree. His home is here, with us.

“Family and friends, we are gathered here today…” His words fade as my mind jumps through memories of every moment I got to spend with Mr. Wilder.

“Dude, Hayden, get over here!?” Hayden jumps from the couch, running down the hallway. We both stick our heads around the door frame to Mr. Wilder’s room. “He’s singing. In the shower.” Hayden laughs as we both sit and listen to his father sing. When his dad steps out, he sees us both with our heads poking from around the corner.

“Like the show? Better get out of here, 'cause you're fixing to get more than you hoped for.” He smiles, and immediately Hayden and I run to the living room laughing at his dad for all the ways he lives.

“Six slices of toast, and six eggs. Damn boy.” Mr. Wilder laughs as I place my eggs on top of my toast.

“I’m a grown boy.” I smile big, while Hayden downed an entire mixing bowl of CaptainCrunch.

“Be lucky that metabolism still works, because one day you’ll grow faster than ya wanna.” He rubs his stomach now flattened by his cancer, “At one time this stomach used to be as round as a ball, a perfect place for a coffee cup to rest during morning paper reading.” He looks down, reminiscing. “Cancer takes it all, I’m afraid, but it can’t take my mindset.”

Pulling me from my thoughts, Hayden stands, twirling a rose in between his fingers. Then he takes another from the pile and hands one to me. We walk in sync to the casket, where we both place our roses, while sniffles sound behind us. Placing my hand on Hayden’s back, I whisper, “We are in this together, brother.” His chin shakes as my words fall.

We stand as we watch those who loved Mr. Wilder place rose upon rose. When the funeral comes to an end, we stand, and the crowd fades out.

Hayden and I wait for everyone to say their goodbyes, and just when we think everyone has left. An older man, coming slowly from the back, approaches the casket. “Hello.” His voice is rough, and he has a patch on his face that is bandaged.

Hayden nods, “Hello, sir, thank you for coming for my Dad.” Hayden wipes a falling tear quickly before it rolls down his cheek.

The man stands taller, shaking Hayden’s hand. “I, um, didn’t know your dad. But I felt like I needed to come.” Hayden takes a step back. “I– ugh, you saved me from the fire, and I wanted to thank you.” Hayden’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, as his eyes grow wide.

“Leave.” Hayden cuts the man off; his demeanor shifts as he balls his fists and wrinkles his forehead.

The old man nods, realizing his timing was neither appropriate nor welcome. Haley and Lilla get back from wandering the field, allowing us time to say our goodbyes. Just as they get to us, Hayden turns without a word and walks away.

After the luncheon that turned into a five-hour-long deal, Hayden didn’t attend. We finally headed home. Haley rides back to Mr. Wilder's house with us. The car ride is silent, and the air is heavy with sadness. As we step inside, the sound of glass shattering grabs my attention. Lilla and Haley stand back as they watch Hayden break down, pained screams slice through the silence, and anger rages in his tone. “I wasn’t ready!” His voice trembles, “It wasn’t the right time! I needed more time!” He yells and screams as he crashes glass dishes on the floor, “I was supposed to be here for this one. I was supposed to hold him and tell him everything would be fine. I was supposed to hold him, ME. I failed AGAIN!” He screams, begging to feel something other than hurt, disappointment, and guilt.