Reflections at a Funeral
It wasn't Diane that called me to let me know that her Dad had passed that cold winter day in December. I was disappointed not to hear from my former BFF even though it had been a few years since we talked with or saw each other. Our relationship had dwindled from a hot and heavy romance to nothing more but an occasional text or card on special occasions or during the holidays.
We were so close for so long, but she had her older sister call me to give me the terrible news. Why? Was she afraid we might get into a conversation that would make her feel uncomfortable? Surely she could have mustered up enough courage to speak to me about such a life shattering event. An event we had talked about knowing that someday our parents would leave this earth and we would become the elders.
Diane always seemed to be closer to her Dad than her Mom, so I knew his death must have affected her deeply. Why didn't she want to confide in me? We always shared everything with one another in the past. It was easy to talk over any dilemma either of us faced. Was it the time that had passed between us the reason why she didn't call me herself? I guess I'll never know.
I wanted to call and reach out to her that evening, to let her know that I cared about how she was feeling, but I didn't. I just couldn't pick up the phone and have a heartfelt talk as I wasn't sure how she would respond. Part of me thought she wouldn't answer seeing the rarity of my number popping up on her phone and part of me was reassuring my already deflated ego that she might just welcome my condolences. Again, I will never know, as I didn't make the call.
Listening to the arrangements, I assured Marianne that I would be there for the viewing and told her how sorry I was over his passing. I told her that I thought her Dad was a really great guy but I was glad that he was no longer suffering. Only a few months earlier I ran into him near the treatment center where he was having his dialysis. He was so glad to see me and invited me to the house for dinner. I promised him I would stop by and visit him and Millie soon.
I remember being very nervous driving down to the Jersey shore to attend the funeral. It meant I would be seeing her and her family again after such a long hiatus. My stomach was in knots. My palms were sweating and I could feel my heart beating fast in my chest.
Would she be glad to see me after all these years? Was she going to be just too sad over her Dad's passing? Would she say something to let me know that she still cared?
Questions that flooded my mind were now haunting me as I drove down the seemingly endless highway.
As I approached the parking lot my eyes scanned to see if I recognized her car. Silly me, it had been years and she more than likely didn't have the same vehicle as when we were in each other's lives.
My thoughts retreated to when we would go for long rides down the shore or up to Connecticut in her car. I loved driving with her. Sometimes she would reach her hand over towards me and just hold it lovingly, to let me know how much she enjoyed just being with me. I almost brought myself to tears thinking of all those feelings we shared back then and it made me aware of how much I missed her now.
Each wooden step of the funeral parlor stairs creaked as I made my way to the huge entrance doors. There on the bulletin board was her Dad's name and picture with all the service information. I took a deep breath. There was the image of a truly wonderful man who was the father of my best friend. My thoughts went to all the times I visited him and his wife at their home. How welcomed he made me feel. How warm and loving he and his wife were towards me, knowing how fond their daughter and I were of each other.
The smell of funeral flowers and the low hum of whispers clouded my thoughts as I approached the visitation room.
My eyes scanned the area desperately searching for her on my mental radar screen. I knew surely my eyes would lock onto her like a magnet, and they immediately did. She was standing near the open casket next to her mother and sisters as they greeted their guests. My former girlfriend looked stunning. She appeared older, her hair had a few streaks of gray, but she looked absolutely ravishing. I looked her over from head to toe remembering all the curves of her body that I missed so much. For a brief moment I thought she was eyeing me up as I walked into the room and over to the casket. I felt her eyes on me as she continued to converse with a few women who were standing with her.
The years were kind to her. I wondered what she was thinking when her eyes met mine. Would she remember all the times those same eyes looked at me lovingly as we embraced? Would she remember how wonderful our bodies seemed to fit together when we were intimate? Would she even remember how fantastic the sex was between us? Somehow I thought she wouldn't allow herself to think of those times, or couldn't for some reason, or maybe she just didn't want to. I don't know what her reasoning was for dropping out of my life.
I went up to the coffin and knelt down to say a prayer as my peripheral vision saw her standing just a few feet away. It was like there was no one else in the room, just her and I. My senses focused just on her as I was trying desperately not to make it look too obvious.
As I turned from the casket, her family greeted me with hugs and kisses. She kissed me too, and thanked me for coming. It was a quick peck on the cheek as she held onto my arm and we embraced but it seemed like there was a lot more behind that hug. I inhaled the smell of her hair, fresh coconuts with a hint of flowers. Her scent hadn't changed. I probably hesitated a few seconds longer than I should have, but I didn't want to separate from that intoxicating aroma she had over me. I noticed how she too looked me over taking in what I looked like now that some time had passed between us. She spoke as if it was like she had just recently seen me and it hadn't been years since we were in each other's company.
She seemed compelled to make small talk in front of her mom and sisters as if it was a normal thing as she made idle chit-chat. I knew she was putting on a pretense in front of her family. I guess it was meant for them not to think that we were estranged for such a long time.
Diane started to tell me about the VFW and the American flag that was draped by the coffin like I didn't know her Dad was a World War II veteran. It was as if she was telling a complete stranger, and not ME, her former bestie and lover, who knew everything about her and the family's history. I was confused by her behavior as it was like she was speaking from a script she had studied and needed to recite to those who paid their respects at the funeral.
Other people were waiting their turn to greet them so I made my way to the second row of seats and scanned the room to see whom else I recognized of her family members. I tried not to make it too obvious that I was watching her every move by turning my head and making small talk to friends that sat nearby. All the while I was studying her movements and trying to get glimpses of what she was like, now that I was in the same room with her.
Of course while I was sitting there I was compelled to undress her with my eyes. I couldn't help it. I imagined her naked breasts with those hard nipples just waiting for me to suckle them. I wondered what her underwear looked like. I imagined it to be red and sexy with lots of lace. Memories of the two of us making love and giving each other pleasure flooded my thoughts. Oh how I longed to be with her like that again!
I wanted to spend as much time as I could with Diane since it was a while since I was in such close proximity of her. Just being in the same room, observing and taking in her every move set my heart on fire. It was December, but it seemed like August as I was sweating like crazy.
A priest came in and began saying prayers. I watched as she bent her head and chanted the prayers out loud while holding her mother's hand. It reminded me of the many times we went to church and she kneeled next to me holding her grandmother's rosary beads as she prayed. Or the time we stopped in at this ancient Catholic Church in New Hope, Pennsylvania. She was deeply faithful to her religion.
After sitting for a while, her daughters chatted with me as I met their young children for the first time. Her youngest daughter Jennie leaned over to me and said quietly,
"Barb it is so good to see you. I know you and Mom haven't seen each other in a while. I don't understand why, but I think you need to fight for Mom."
I was taken back as I didn't understand the question.
"What do you mean Jen?"
"You know, I can see that you still love her and I know she has feelings for you, so why aren't you guys together?"
"Did she tell you that?"
"No, not in so many words, but I know she still cares for you, a lot".
"I don't think your Mom wants anything to do with resuming a relationship with me. It's been heartbreaking for me for many years now." I told her feeling very sad and vulnerable.
Jenny kissed me on the cheek and said, "Think about it Barb, but if I were you I wouldn't give up on Mom. I know she still loves you too."
The words Jenny spoke were going round and round in my head. So, her daughter feels that I should 'fight for her'. What or who am I fighting with? Was it just something I should pursue? Like text her or call her or send her letters and poems and flowers and everything else a love-sick person would do? Is that what she meant? Diane hardly spoke to me when we were face to face. Why would I think that she would respond to anything I would try to do to rekindle our friendship?
She never came over to me during that hour or so that I sat in the second row with her family. I told myself that she was busy saying hello or goodbye to her friends and relatives. I was making excuses for her. Would it have been too much for her to spend a few minutes more with me? It was an opportunity to reconnect even if it was at a time of sorrow. She chose not to and kept her distance. I realized it was definitely intentional.
What seemed like no time at all, two hours of the services had passed by and I knew it was time to leave. I made my way up to the front of the room to take my turn to say goodbye. All visitors were instructed to file past the casket, but I didn't want to leave her. I didn't want to overstay my welcome either, so I went up and waited in line to pay my respects. I knelt down and said my good-byes to her Dad.
Diane saw that I was walking toward the door as she came up next to me.
