Contemplating Love.

You sit in a church sanctuary, while your mind races. �Ave Maria� echoes softly in the background, setting the mood. The trees and flowers drift in the wind outside the window you�re looking out of. Snow colored birds fly against the pale blue sky, singing there mellow song. Your world is frozen in time while everything else is in constant motion. There is nothing you can do about your destiny, although you desperately wish to revise it. Your thoughts consume you, and you dread the moment you must read the eulogy. One thought in particular, attaches it�s self to your ear, constantly whispering its rancorous tune; �What did I do to deserve this?� You have done nothing, and neither did I.
The truth was I had done nothing to deserve this terrible fate. My Grandmother's death was not my fault, nor was her brain and lung cancer. The church, the same church I attended each Saturday I spent with her as a small child, would no longer remain constant, but fluctuate with my memories of her. My heart would no longer monopolize the teachings of God, but reject his love and compassion I understood so perfectly.
My heart screamed at God for what he had done. Her fate was beyond my control, yet my heart still ached for closure and her love once again. My tears where unstoppable, as if they where rain. I could no longer control my heavy breathing, or furious shaking. My father, who sat to my left dressed in a blue button down shirt and black pants, looked rather spiffy, but his clothing only masked the agony his tears displayed. I looked at him and he looked down at me, his voluminous, brown eyes blood-shot. He sniffed and his dark mustache danced under his nose.
�I love you,� he said tenderly.
�I love you too Dad,� I responded. At that moment, I knew this cruel event was not a mirage, but reality. A reality that I knew would take years to accept. This reality hid beneath the shadows of night, ready to seize everyone at one time or another. This reality was love and this love never dies. My Grandmother�s memories will never die, and neither will her talent and love for her family. Her sprit will remain and her love endures forever, but her body is impermanent.
As my memories faded, and I re-entered reality �Ave Maria� continued to hum its heavenly tune. A smile appeared across my face, this smile wasn�t only external but it outstretched to my heart.
I stood up from my chair and confidently walked to the podium. My voice rang across the church as if angles where singing across the heavens.
�We have gathered here today in loving memory of Constance Beltrone...� My heart opened and my eyes contemplated the congregation, while each one smiled back with open hearts, and wide eyes. Each person looked familiar to me. But there was one woman who caught my eye. She was standing in the back with dark curly hair, big brown eyes, dressed in green holding a tennis racket, investigating her funeral, laughing and smiling at the crowd of people who loved and adored her.

Currently 6.40/10
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10

Rating: 6.4 out of 5 votes cast