A ROSE BLOWING IN THE WIND
Chapter Eleven

It was the day of Jack’s memorial, and to Rose’s surprise, the whole town turned up. George was right when he had told her that Jack was going to be mourned by a great many people. It was going to be interesting and heartbreaking what those people had to say about her beloved Jack. She wondered if he knew he was so loved. She could almost feel a tinge of surprise that wasn’t her own. Jack was indeed with her.

Oh, Jack, they loved you so much, Rose thought to herself.

"Rosie, darlin’, are you sure you’re up to this?" Molly held the girl’s hand. "You can go back to the house and I can fill you in if you want."

"No, Molly. I’m fine. This is something I have to do. I have to know who Jack was…what he was like…and this is the only way. It’s just so overwhelming to know that Jack was loved by all these people."

"Somehow, I’m not surprised." Molly slightly smiled. "It was hard not to like Jack. I wonder how your mother and Cal pulled it off."

Rose sadly smiled as she looked upon the podium. On the stand was a picture of Jack in his younger days. He couldn’t have been more than fourteen, maybe even thirteen in the picture. The picture was surrounded by roses. Rose had asked George where he had found the picture, and he had told her an old friend of Jack’s had it. Rose was sure to meet her at the memorial. Gathering from the picture, Jack had been a carefree, mischievous boy with a heart of gold, from the ever present spark of kindness in his eyes and the warmth of his smile. In that picture, Rose saw hints of the man she had come to love.

Silence filled the church as the reverend stepped up to the podium, his face downcast. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are all here today to mourn and share our memories of a very special young man. A young man that’s held in the heart of each and everyone of us today. It’s been five years since Jack Dawson left us, and the recent news that he will not be coming back rips at our very hearts. We all knew the boy Jack Dawson. But only one of us knew the man. I think we shall let her go first. Let her share her memories of Jack Dawson, taken from us so young. Mrs. Dawson, please, step up to the podium." The reverend beckoned to her.

Panic filled her as she glanced at Molly, who nodded encouragingly at her. "You can do it, Rose. Talk about Jack. Of what you knew and saw of him."

Rose nodded, and got up to go to the podium.

"Why are they doing this to her?" George leaned toward his wife and whispered. "Can’t they see the very thought of Jack makes her want to break down into hysterics?"

"No, they can’t, honey. They only see a girl who can tell them what happened to Jack. It’s not that they don’t care…it’s that they can’t get past their own grief."

Rose cleared her throat as she stood at the podium. She turned to glance at the picture of Jack, drawing strength from those eyes and that warm smile. It was like the picture was encouraging her. Jack, give me strength, she thought to herself.

"Hello. I know that most of you don’t know me…and probably wonder what right I have to be up here, talking about a man that you’ve known longer than I. What can I possibly tell you about Jack Dawson that you don’t already know yourselves? You know he was an exquisite artist. He was kind and gentle. Maybe a bit mischievous. But he was also the man that saved my life, and I’m not just talking about the cold Atlantic water after the Titanic went down. When we met…I was ready to kill myself, but a kind young man with concerned blue eyes and a warm smile talked me out of it, and from there, it was love at first sight. Jack taught me the joy of living. He taught me how to make each day count…as if it was the last. He unlocked my chains, set me free, and no one else had ever cared for me like that before Jack came into my life. I hope to pass along his values to our unborn child, and hope that our baby will have the same love of life as its father did. Jack was too young and wonderful to die the way he did. He should have had a long, healthy, and happy life. The only comfort I have is that our child will be born, and through it, Jack will live again. Not only in our child, but in my heart as well. Jack, wherever you are, I’d like to say thank you for all the wonderful gifts you gave me, and that I love you and promise to make each day count until the day when we’ll be together again." Beginning to sob, Rose stepped away from the podium into George’s arms, who tried to comfort her the best way he knew how.

Five minutes passed before Rose calmed herself, and a girl around Rose’s age stepped up to the podium.

"Hello. You all know me as Mary Taylor, Jack’s best friend. What can I say about Jack? Well…his was my first kiss, for one. It was quite comical. We were sitting talking, and I was wondering what it was going to be like when I found my first love. I was worried that I’d be too inexperienced. So I asked Jack to help me practice. So Jack took pity on me and kissed me. It was awkward, but wonderful at the same time. After that, and about the time for my first date with Bruce Johnson…I was ready. But I have to admit that no other kiss was as sweet and innocent as when my best friend kissed me."

Soft laughter lifted through the air as Mary stepped down and an older woman stepped up to the podium. Thomas gasped in surprise. He leaned over to whisper in Rose’s ear.

"That’s Mrs. Scrowls, Jack and my third grade teacher. I’m surprised she’s up there. I thought she hated us."

"As you know, I’m the third grade teacher at the local elementary school. I had Jack Dawson in my class so many years ago, but he was one of the few students I could never forget. He was a bit mischievous. I always had to give him and his friend Thomas detention. But no one’s smiled lighted up my day like Jack’s did. So bright and full of hope for the future. He always had a kind word for everyone and he was quite a charmer. Even I found it hard to punish the boy when he misbehaved as he looked up at me with those big, innocent blue eyes and a guilty smile. Jack Dawson will be sorely missed by all of us, I’m sure." The woman stepped down from the podium.

"Why, I’ll be." Thomas shook his head.

Next was Fredrick Horn, a thin man with greasy brown hair and thick black glasses. By the look of him, even Rose could beat him up.

"Look, it’s four eyes," someone whispered to Thomas, who stifled a snicker.

"Shh. Believe it or not, Horn-eyes was one of Jack’s friends, too. He wouldn’t like it if we called him names now," Thomas whispered.

"Ahem…h-hi. I’m not used to getting up to talk in front of people and I don’t think I like it very much. But I’ll do it for the only person my age that treated me with an ounce of respect. Jack Dawson…well, he was my only friend. I remember my first day of third grade. I started late in the year because I was so sickly and my mother didn’t want to let me out. Right from the start, I got called names and picked on. That day at recess, a group of boys cornered me. I thought for sure I was going to get the tar beaten out of me. The boys were right up on me when suddenly a blond-haired boy with friendly blue eyes stood between me and them. Somehow he talked them into leaving me alone. From that day on, we were inseparable. Jack would hang out with me at recess and lunch and study break. His other friends didn’t like me, but Jack didn’t care. He insisted that I sit with him and that everyone treat me with respect. Jack was my only and best friend. I will really miss him." Fredrick stepped down from the podium.

For a whole two hours, people stepped up and shared their memories, bringing Rose to tears. She always knew Jack was special, but by what everyone said about him, he was extraordinary.

The memorial was now over. George and Thomas led Rose to the exit when Fredrick approached her.

"Uh…Mrs. Dawson…" Fredrick stammered.

"What is it, Horn-eyes?" Another man, whom Rose remembered as Bruce Fallon, another one of Jack’s friends, approached. "Can’t you see the lady is trying to leave?"

"Bruce, can it," Thomas warned. "We know you like to get your kicks out of picking on Fredrick, but act your age today. Today is Jack’s day, and Fredrick was his friend, too. He can talk to Rose if he wants."

"I-I just wanted to say that Jack is missed. And if you ever need anything, like more stories of Jack…let me know."

"Thank you." Rose nodded. "I’ll do that. Thank you." Rose sniffed and let Thomas and George lead her out of the church into the bright sunlight. Rose shivered as she thought she heard a tiny voice telling her to take Fredrick up on his offer.

"Come on, Rosie. Let’s get you home. You look tired." Molly patted her hand and led the way to George’s car.

In the car, Rose began to cry uncontrollably. The sense of loss was unbearable.

"Rose?" Molly put a arm around her.

"It’s so unfair, Molly! He was so loved! Why did he have to die? Why?"

"Shh, darling. Sometimes, God has one of his angels come to earth, and then he soon calls them back. I believe Jack was one of those angels, and he was just called back home, his work being done. So don’t be sad, Rose. Wherever Jack is, he knows he’s loved, and he’ll live on in all our memories." Molly cradled Rose until the girl had fallen into a dreamless slumber.

Chapter Twelve
Stories