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Chapter Seven
Tragedy
“We gather here today in remembrance of Anastasia Clark, who, sadly, is no longer with us.” The priest was barely able to make his frail voice heard over the unexpected rain that tapped against the top of the nylon tent.
Stephen sat in the front row, perfectly aligned with Ana’s coffin. Thankfully, the tent was large enough to shelter the coffin, priest, and all those who had come to mourn. Beside Stephen sat Hugo, and beside him was his fiancée, Tammy. Stephen had not seen either of them since Emily’s birth, yet their presence brought him a slight comfort he had not expected.
Seated on the other side of Stephen was Jane, Ana’s best friend. Stephen didn’t know much about her. They only had a few brief conversations at the occasional social gathering. With the erratic schedule of a nurse and taxing duties of a new parent, Ana saw her friend only rarely after Emily’s birth. This meant Stephen had seen her hardly at all. Nonetheless, her presence, like Hugo’s, brought a measure of comfort to Stephen that he couldn’t comprehend.
Another dozen to fifteen people had come to offer their condolences, but he was only able to focus on what was right next to him or directly in front of him. Even as they came up to him and shook his hand, Stephen did not notice who had shown up. He figured it was most likely Ana’s colleagues, maybe even some of his as well, but to him only a few people were left in his life that mattered.
Emily, who was too young to comprehend what was taking place, sat on Stephen’s lap, and played with her father’s tie and shirt buttons. Stephen would look down at her every so often to make sure she wasn’t making too much of a mess or just to give himself a brief escape from the nauseating sight laid out before him. The times he looked down at Emily were the only times he’d be able to show something of a smile. Although he never exposed his teeth, it was a noticeably different expression than the one he wore when staring at the coffin. It was an expression that was void of emotion—no joy, no sorrow, almost as if an amateur mason had attempted to carve a human face out of stone.
He was unable to show so much as a tinge of compassion, fearing that even if a droplet of truth made its way to the surface, a crack would form, allowing more and more feelings to pour out until the flow became uncontrollable. He kept it all sealed away, where no one would be able to see, and it slowly ate away at his insides while he stared at his wife’s corpse.
Stephen had chosen to have an open casket, but he later regretted the decision since the embalmer hadn’t done his job all that well, and Stephen could still see the welt on her neck caused by the extension cord. The mark was faint, but Stephen knew exactly where to look—just under the corners of her jaw, traveling behind her ears, and disappearing into her hair. Even though it pained him immensely, he stared at the extension cord’s signature on her skin more than at any other part of Ana.
It was a way of punishing himself for not preventing it. Not doing enough to make Ana feel loved and needed. Maybe he blamed himself for her dementia as well. Whatever the case, Stephen forced himself to look at that mark the entire time the priest spoke.
“Let there be no whispering—Ana took her own life. While she died by her own hand, no one would do this without great pain, an inner suffering that seemed to have no end. If only we could have told her that no agony is forever. It’s especially heartbreaking when someone so loved by those around her is unable to see just how much she is truly cared for.
“Ana leaves behind a loving husband and baby girl, both of whom I’m sure did their very best to make her feel loved. A family who loses someone in such a way carries a special grief. One day the grief might take the form of regret, on another day guilt, and then failure. To Stephen, his beautiful daughter, Emily, and many other families with burdens like them, we offer our prayers, love, and support so that you can begin to reshape your lives.
“It will not be an easy path since you must now go on living without such a vital family member, but know that you are not alone in your journey. All of us here today are with you, as well as God himself.
“Let us pray for the protection and safety of Ana’s family and all those close to her. May they find peace on such a dark day.”
The priest went on to lead the gathering in prayer. Stephen didn’t join in. He neither spoke out nor considered the priest’s words since as soon as the priest began his prayer, Stephen had begun to zone out. Dark thoughts clouded his mind, preventing him from noticing anything but the mark on Ana’s neck. Blurred now, his vision tunneled directly to the groove in her flesh. He became dizzy and found it difficult just to keep his eyes open.
Suddenly, the casket was shut, and just like that the mark was no longer visible although he no longer needed to actually see it—the memory of it was branded into his mind. Yet, with the mark hidden, he was able to regain his sight and prevent himself from passing out. He also realized that the priest had finished his prayer, and the time he dreaded had finally come.
As Stephen watched the pallbearers hoist his wife’s coffin off the catafalque and begin to lower it into its grave, he could sense every fiber within him screaming. He could feel each vein pumping blood furiously through his body as his temperature began to rise and his thoughts ran rampant. Stephen screaming so loudly in his own head that he felt his lung shrink as if depleting all the air within them, yet on the outside he maintained the calm stone-like expression that would only shed a few droplets of sweat. These accumulated at the corners of his forehead. Not a single tear would fall while he stared endlessly into the glossy black finish of the coffin. With each inch that it dropped into the earth, Stephen could feel his heart bump as if in time with the rhythmic lowering of the pallbearers.
Slowly, it dropped out of view, each second feeling as if a whole day—no, a week—had gone by. The descending coffin became the most agonizing sight he’d ever witnessed. Finally, the coffin was consumed by the earth. As it dropped out of sight, it stopped his heart—and time—for a moment. Not even the slightest muscle movement altered the expression on his face, but his pupils became dilated as he searched for the beauty, he knew to be his wife. Unable to find such a person anymore, his eyes became uncontrollably dry. His body reacted by forcing them to fill with tears in an attempt to ease the burning pain. Stephen sensed the excess water that had accumulated in his eyes and widened them to spread the liquid more evenly and prevent an overflow that might be mistaken for tears.
After he’d averted the crisis involving his eyes, he glanced down at his daughter again. She’d laid her head on his chest as she tugged away at his shirt button. Stephen’s pain eased for a second but quickly escalated into panic when he realized that she’d been listening to his heartbeat. Stephen worried that his heart would expose his true emotions and lead his daughter to worry about him. He thought that even though he couldn’t show his true emotions openly, at the very least he’d be able to experience them internally, but he was mistaken. His daughter unwittingly had found a way around her father’s deception and now could understand how he truly felt—right from the source, his heart.
Ironically, this made Stephen’s heart race even more, which he realized and that caused his panic to accelerate, going in a torturous loop. It wasn’t until Emily finally lifted her head and the priest began to speak again that Stephen was able to take a breath and ease his heart. With his daughter distracted, Stephen quickly devised a plan that would take into account situations in which someone could read into his heart (if not his facial expression). He decided to disguise the emotions he felt and keep the truth hidden somewhere in the recesses of his mind until he could openly express them without the worry of inconveniencing anyone else. He did not know whether he’d ever get such a chance, but it was the best option he could come up with.
“It is at this moment we ask that if you would like to say your final goodbyes please line up alongside the grave, take a rose, and toss it onto your loved one,” the priest announced once the coffin had been laid to rest in the ground.
The crowd slowly stood and formed a single file line alongside the tent, each grabbing a rose from a pile stacked on a folding table. Sporadic sniffling and weeping came from the mourners as they passed Stephen, who remained seated.
One by one the mourners stood atop the grave, saying a silent prayer, and tossing the rose onto the coffin below.
Hugo and Jane waited beside Stephen and Emily until only the four of them were left. Jane asked Stephen whether he’d like them to go up with him, but received no reply. Stephen stared vacantly at the hole.
Hugo told Jane to go up first. He looked at Stephen once more seeing if he needed comforting but upon seeing the blank expression gave his friend a moment alone and accompanied the women to the grave. Once she’d finished her teary goodbye to her best friend, Hugo escorted Jane to the back of the tent, leaving Stephen and Emily in the front row.
As people returned to their cars and drove off, the sobbing sound that stains funerals began to dwindle. Even the rain had ceased, and all that could be heard were brief gusts of wind that made glistening ripples from the fallen rain. Stephen took a deep breath and after a moment took another sharp breath before finally getting to his feet and approaching the table. With Emily in his arms, he looked at the pile of roses still on the table—even the leftover flowers began to taunt him, making him believe that maybe Ana didn’t have enough people who cared about her. Maybe if he’d done a better job of introducing her to new people, he could have prevented all this. He felt rage building in him again, but it quickly subsided when he saw a tiny hand reaching for a rose. Emily was emulating the other mourners.
Stephen smiled—a true smile that showed his teeth—and leaned down so his daughter could grab a rose. Unfamiliar with the protocol, Emily threw the flower into the grave without giving Stephen a chance to say a single word of prayer. He let out a light gasp then chuckled while he picked up another rose and held for the both of them, saying a quick prayer and then giving it a kiss. He placed the flower in front of Emily’s lips, so she could do the same. Looking at his daughter’s innocent eyes then down to the grave, he tossed the rose in, in silence.
After glancing down, Stephen felt the flicker of an emotion he’d never felt when gazing at his wife. He was unsure whether it was due to the coral-colored flowers that covered her coffin, or it was a pure emotion that had somehow been evoked by her final actions, but it was suddenly there—the faintest ember of resentment. He was instantly disgusted. The fact that he could feel such a thing after taking a last look at someone he cared for so deeply caused Stephen to quickly turn away.
The burst of movement startled Emily, and she broke into tears. Stephen glanced in the direction of Hugo and the others, who were standing at the opposite end of the tent. They probably assumed she was crying because she had some childish intuition that she was saying a final goodbye to her mother. Stephen, however, knew exactly what had caused his daughter’s tears, and a look of horror took hold of his face as his daughter wailed. He tried to console his daughter, but Jane had made her way to him and held out her arms to take Emily. It may have been normal for Emily to prefer a feminine touch, but the way she lunged away from her father broke Stephen’s heart, especially because he knew it was because of something he’d done.
“Hey man, it’ll be okay.” Hugo wrapped an arm around Stephen’s shoulders and guided him away from the grave.
