The motors whirred almost inaudibly as they lowered Paula's coffin into the ground. Mourners threw roses on top of the casket as it descended, then each departed after showing me they were still with me in their own way: a tearful hug, a firm handshake, a gentle squeeze of my forearm. Finally, only a handful remained: my son, Will; my daughter, Jenny; my best friend of 30 years, Aaron; his wife of 24 years, Becca.
My kids grieved as children do, feeling for the first time that painful confusion life eventually thrusts upon us, the kind we feel when a touchstone that's always been there is suddenly gone forever. But kids don't know what it's like to have someone come into their life, change it completely, and then leave too soon; the pain isn't lesser, but it's different. One is expected, just a part of growing up. The other we hope to avoid at all costs. Becca and I both felt it that day.
Becca had been my wife's best friend for almost as long as I'd been Aaron's. Aaron and I met in high school; Becca and Paula roomed together in college. Paula and I dated then, and Becca and Aaron met as a result. The four of us had seen each other through all the ups and downs of our adult lives.
I knew Aaron grieved, too, although he had never been as close to Paula as Becca was. Not until near the end, anyways. Becca had never been as close to me as Aaron, either, and she and I never would be now.
He grieved for my pain, I think, as a friend would. I knew he grieved for his wife's pain, as I would if our positions had been reversed. But then, I knew our positions could never really have been reversed. We were too different, although I'd never entirely admitted it to myself until recently.
My kids hugged me tightly, then murmured a few words about heading back to the house to pack. Paula had passed in the middle of the college semester, and Jenny needed to return to school before she fell behind. Will had recently started his new job, and he'd already gone past his PTO allowance. I kissed my daughter on the cheek and bade them both farewell. They offered me a ride, but I demurred, instead choosing to stay behind with their godparents for a little while longer.
Once my children had moved beyond earshot, I turned to Becca. She pulled me in close for a hug and kissed me on the cheek, whispering, "I'm so sorry, Frank. She loved you so much, and I know you loved her more than... well, more than anything." Becca stumbled through the last part, knowing she'd said something hurtful without meaning to. I had loved my wife. Maybe too much. I nodded and pulled away, leaving Paula's closest friend with an ashamed, regretful expression on her face.
Aaron moved towards me next, arms wide, but I shouldered him aside as I turned to leave. He stared at me with confusion. "Frank?" Then, again, more plaintively, "Frank? Come on, buddy, what's..." He stopped, his expression twisting with painful understanding and something resembling betrayal. On any other day, I might have laughed. "Frank, buddy, please, don't go. Let's talk, man. We can work through this."
I walked a few more yards before glancing back over my shoulder. "I never want to see either of you again. Ever." Aaron took a step, but his wife put a hand on his forearm, holding him back with a gentle touch. 'A bit late for that now,' I thought bitterly. Still, Paula had loved her. "I'm sorry for your loss, Becca." She nodded, a thin frown etching her face.
My former best friend called after me one last time, almost begging, "Frank!" Now all three of us felt the same pain, that cruel, hard-won knowledge of a love found and then lost. But of all of us, only I had prepared myself for the full extent of it.
Six months later
My wife's death had badly upset Jenny, but she still managed to graduate magna cum laude. I knew Paula would have beamed with pride. Her godparents did, too, although I only saw them at a distance at her graduation. Becca and Aaron had chosen an intentionally childfree lifestyle, and our kids were the closest things to a son and daughter they'd ever have.
My former friends hadn't acceded to my wishes after the funeral, especially Aaron, who had tried numerous times to contact me. At her graduation, though, I managed to keep away from them. Jenny noticed, but I only told her that we'd had a falling out, and she didn't need to concern herself with it. She pushed and pushed until I told her in no uncertain terms that I wouldn't discuss it and there was no chance we would reconcile. I should have known that would only encourage her to butt in. My daughter had so much of her mom in her.
Still, when I entered Jenny's apartment a couple months later and saw my former best friend and his wife sitting there, I couldn't help but blurt out, "What the fuck?"
My daughter's eyes shot wide open at the profanity. I almost never swore around my kids. "Dad!"
I wheeled on her. "I told you I didn't want to talk to them!"
Aaron and Becca both started in at once. "Frank, please--" "Buddy, don't--"
I snarled, "Don't you fucking 'buddy' me, you son of a bitch!"
"Dad!"
My eyes snapped back to my daughter. "I told you--
I told you!
--that I never wanted to talk to them again. I cannot believe you'd ambush me like this!"
Becca said, "Frank, please, we begged her. Aaron has- both of us have missed you so much."
"I haven't missed you. At all."
"Bud... Frank, come on. That's not true. Jenny told us you've been sitting at home all by yourself this whole time, and--"
"You've been
spying
for them?"
"No, Dad! No, of course not! But I'm worried about you. The four of you used to go out together all the time. Heck, Uncle Aaron and Aunt Becca were over at our house constantly when I was growing up!"
