BACKNEXTDull grey painted the sky that Sunday, soft autumn wind blew as willows weep, along with those that were present. The trees rustled softly, dead leaves falling off the branches, one by one onto the stagnant river nearby. Ripples form only to gradually fade away. Winter's coming soon, the temperature's began to drop lower and lower. It was indeed a dark and gloomy day.
And they all stood there that evening, gathered to pay their last respect to that person, that one woman. A mentor, a colleague, a friend, she was all of it to them. But to him, she meant more, far more. She was his strength, the one person that gave him enough will to survive in the wretched and corrupted world that they lived in. She was the love of his life, his significant other, his soulmate-the one fated to spend his life with. In fact, she was all that he had. And now she was no longer with him.
Streaks of sunlight shone through the huge cypress tree that marked her grave, casting interesting patterns on the ground as the gentle breeze blew past. Every one of them knew that this was her tree, how she had always expressed her admiration towards that one tree, that one tree that stood strong and proud, yet seemed to be so gentle and fragile at the same time. So very much like her, that one special tree. But none of them knew that it was also their tree. It holds the countless meetings between the two, bearing witness to their growing love. Oh, the bitter sweet memories that it brings, something that he would always store in his mind, forever treasured.
The priest continued the ceremony by reading out her favourite poem, William Shakespeare's Sonnet, chapter xviii. In fact, it was the only one poem that she could remember all by heart. How she had recited it to him that midsummer night, when they were just out there, sitting by the river, under the old cypress tree, enjoying each other's company. He had loved it, though he had to admit that he was never a big fan of poems, especially those of Shakespeare. When he was younger, he had thought that they were the corniest thing he had ever heard of. But to hear it coming from her, makes it all so different. Poetry takes on a new meaning, the words come alive as it flows from her lips.
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou are more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or by nature's changing course untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st;
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
His eyes watered as the Sonnet was read, he was hearing her instead of the priest. He remembered everything about that special night, as they sat there side by side, watching the full moon shining brightly above. Her tone was first soft and low, then a bit higher and back again, like she was singing. Her expression, an unforgettable one, so sweet with that dreamy gaze of hers and the smile that was painted there. And the silvery moonlight illuminated her, so brilliantly beautiful was she, so much like a saint, like an angel. She was the very picture of innocence. How much he had loved her then, and he still did, till now.
Visions blurred as tears formed. He did nothing as they rolled down, he just stared at the tombstone that lay in front of him. Unashamed was he for he didn't care, without her, nothing else matters. Nothing. He stood there, motionless as the tears streaked his cheeks, while the priest finished off the ceremony and all the others lay their garlands of flower, and got ready to leave. Even as they started dissipating away, he stood there, like a statue, tears still flowing. He didn't say anything when a young blond lay a gentle hand on his shoulders, neither did he when his two colleague, one redhead and the other bald, softly tugged at him, ushering him to go. He just stood there. They knew only too well to let him be by himself.
A heavy blanket of grey clouds filled the sky, threatening to rain. The wind picked up it's pace and blew
violently. Without him noticing, everybody was gone, leaving him with her, utterly alone, together.
Then, and only then, did he break down and cried. He dropped down on his knees, head buried in the
crook of one of his arms, while the other repeatedly pound on the ground. He kept muttering the word
'why' as if it was a chant, repeating it over and over again. Until he couldn't express all the sadness and
anger that he was feeling in any other way, he screamed on top of his lungs, facing the heavens above, as
if it was an outcry that, hopefully, would reach God. He screamed and screamed and screamed. And the
rain poured down on him mercilessly.