TOGETHER

 The mourners, dressed in unrelieved black, shuffled slowly towards the casket. A deep silence enshrouded the cemetery. Each griever picked up a handful of dirt and tossed it into the open grave, symbolizing a last goodbye, the last act of kindness they could ever offer the loved one. The dearly departed returns to nature and the cycle of life is complete; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. A sad adieu to the deceased, supposedly a sign of respect although I never could figure out why flinging a clod of dirt on top of someone was supposed to be respectful. But there you have it, tradition is often a curious thing. Previously the lamenting group had placed a yellow rose on the casket, I liked this tradition much better. Hannah had always loved roses, and yellow was her favourite colour, she would have loved the flowers.

I looked around the burial grounds,  Hannah’s grave was near the entrance to the cemetery,  the closest plot to a set of impressive wrought iron gates. I hovered near the gates, rather than mingling with the other grievers, a lifetime habit of distancing myself from others. There were other services being held close by and I faintly heard a few songs I recognized, Amazing Grace and Shall We Gather by the River. There were flowers everywhere throughout the grounds. The smell was a blend of sweet fragrances mixed with the odour of freshly turned earth, worms, and something I didn’t even want to think about.

It was strange to note that every eye in the group was dry. There were no weepy displays, no fluttering white handkerchiefs waving in the slight breeze to surreptitiously wipe a tear away. No crumpled soggy Kleenex gripped tightly in a white-knuckled hand. No heavy dark veils hiding a grief-stained face, no acts of drama, no one throwing themselves on the coffin professing their undying love for the one they had lost. Hannah and I had once watched a movie together where the wife had thrown herself into the open grave on top of the lid of her husband's casket. With the lack of life experiences dealing with death, we had howled with laughter, we were such callus insensitive youths.

 Perhaps I understood grief better now, for a part of me wanted to throw myself on the casket and beg Hannah to come back, not to leave me. I restrained myself, however, and knew that if Hannah was aware of this sentiment she would die laughing. I immediately felt chastised for this almost blasphemous sentiment. Die laughing, how could I be so insensitive, so brazenly disrespectful? I loved Hannah more than life, we had been besties since fourth grade.

 Hannah and I met on the first day of school. Her family had moved into the vacant house next door over the summer. I had watched from our windows as the moving truck pulled up and the lengthy procedure of emptying the truck began. I noticed a young girl about my age carrying small boxes into the house. At one point she glanced up and saw me watching, I quickly dodged behind the curtain. Each time she passed by she would glance up and when the last box was carried in, she paused, put her box on the ground, faced me, and proceeded to execute a perfect curtsy, holding out an imaginary dress and bowing to me like I was royalty. I started to laugh and she joined in.  I plucked at my pink shorts and curtsied back. I was thrilled when on the first day of school I found out Hannah was in my class.

Hannah and I became BFFs by the end of the week. Previously I had been a loner, ostracized by my peers,  I was an extreme introvert, painfully shy. I would never look anyone in the face. Hannah was the exact opposite, she was loud, boisterous, bordering on the slightly obnoxious side. I loved her and she loved me, I told her the secrets I had never told anyone. I told her how even with my parents I had always felt like an outsider, like I was an interloper that crashed their little love bubble. My parents were so deeply in love that their own child was viewed as somewhat of a third wheel. I know they never meant to shun me or make me feel this way, but I always felt like an unwanted guest in my own home.

Hannah had the exact opposite home life. Her parents barely tolerated each other but both parents loved her deeply and tried to make the situation work for Hannah's sake. They made the move to the new neighbourhood in hopes of putting the nasty past behind them and have a fresh start. The marriage lasted till a week after Hannah had graduated from high school and then her parents told her they were calling it quits and getting a divorce. Clearly, Hannah, although sad, was not surprised.

We spent hours together from the very start of our friendship. Hannah had a big shed in her backyard that wasn't being used and when we were in elementary school we turned it into a clubhouse. 

 When we were in high school we called it our she-shed and it became a place where we shared secrets, discussed who was the cutest boy, and what lipstick suited us best. We talked about whose parents were the most annoying and what our aspirations were when and if we ever grew up. We laughed together, cried together,  and did homework together. When Hannah and I were together it was as if I became another person. I felt I had equal footing with her. I did not have to fight for recognition as I did with my parents or lower my eyes in dread every time a teacher asked me a question. 

 With my peers, I would remain silent and distant. I won’t call them friends because they weren’t. Some might have thought I was considering myself better than them, snooty, or snobby; but I wasn't, I was just so very painfully shy. It was only with Hannah that I could be totally free to be me, or at least one version of me.

We decided we would try to go to the same college and enroll in the same course. We both loved English, the university we selected was far enough away that we had to move away to the city.  We didn't stay in residence because Hannah's parents, each trying to outdo each other for Hannah's attention, both contributed generously to her tuition and also her housing fund. We had a lovely little side-split not far from the university campus.

We were almost always together, we felt closer than sisters, for most sisters frequently fought, but we never did. We promised each other we would always be together, forever. No matter what happened we would somehow always find a way to be there for one another. We used the strongest method possible to fulfill this solemn vow. We pinkie swore on it

Then came that fateful day; we were traveling in Hannah's car,  coming back from a late-night trip to celebrate the end of exams. It was dark and raining. Suddenly a car came around a sharp bend in the road, traveling on the wrong side of the road. 

The tires squealed, the sound of metal on metal was horrendous, and her screams echoed in my ears. I watched, as if from a distance, as she lay crumpled in the twisted metal, her life’s blood running from her head amidst the total carnage. I reached out my hand towards her but I was unable to reach her, unable to touch her one last time.

So now we were gathered on this cloudy and gloomy day as Hannah's remains were laid to rest. I stooped and lifted a handful of dirt, and felt it slip through my fingers as dust in the wind. The wind suddenly rose sharply, the cloying sense of funeral flowers whirling around.

      The piles of dirt and sand that lay beside the grave swirled. I closed my eyes tightly to keep out the grit and felt the gusts swirl around me, lifting my clothing as if they were as light as gossamer. When I finally opened my eyes, I stood closer to the gates than I had realized and the sun was shining, brightly, more than brightly and the wind had died down and it was still, very still.

 The mourners were gone. The sun shone on the gate giving it an iridescent glow. An older man stood by the gate. His white beard was long and flowing. He motioned me forward.

 “Where have you been?”  he asked.

“ At the cemetery…my friend… she died,” I fumbled for the words to express myself, unsure of where I was, and how I had come here. How everything had changed in the blink of an eye. “ I had to say goodbye,” I faltered.

“There is no need to say goodbye. Come in and say not goodbye, but hello. She is waiting, she is here.  Hannah is waiting for you. She knew you would soon be here.”

“I don't understand,” I said.

“All will be revealed, let me introduce myself. My name is Peter, some call me Saint Peter,” he went over to the large gates and pushed one side open easily. I heard music, it was like nothing I had ever heard before, a vast choir singing, the intricate harmonies blending.

“ Please, come, enter.” St. Peter beckoned.

I took a step forward and entered the pearly gates and there standing just inside...was Hannah.