The Sun Sets In The West

The sun is setting in the west, but I am turned the other way. My eyes are cast downward, and my vision too blurred to see the sunset anyway. I have already counted the people present maybe twenty times. It's too few.

Too few for him.

There are eight. It's small, and that fact stings me more then it would to him, if he could see it now. There are his parents, his grandparents, an aunt, and his younger brother. He would've said that this was more then he could've expected, but I was only angry.

Not even his damn sister showed. How cruel is that?

The wind blows my hair gently, blowing a few leaves into the hole. I blink, and I can see better with the tear once blocking my view floating gently down my face. Don't cry, it'll be okay. I can hear him crooning in my mind.

I'm the only one he would need to say that to.

Not even his god-forsaken mother.

My hands clamp tightly to the dozen roses I held. I had done research; and now the colors were black, yellow, and red. Black for death; yellow for friendship; and red for true love.

He was my everything.

No sooner had the thought passed through my mind that the sobs began. They absorbed me, racking my entire body, and bringing whimpers to my voice. Startled faces glance at my igorant face. Shh, shh. He whispers in my ear. You know I hate it when you cry.

It only makes me cry harder, though no one comes to comfort me. They are only uncomfortable by my gloomy presense.

Damn them all to hell.

At least he wasn't like them; I knew he wouldn't go to hell. He was too good a person, even if he didn't believe in God. I knew God would reserve a seat in Heaven for him. And then he could believe. Then, it would be okay.

I can't see anything, but I know the casket is coming forward. This was the ceremony. It would be the first time I would see his body since then.

I don't think I want to.

No! I snap at myself. He was your best friend.

I swear I can feel his arms wrap around my waist. It's okay. I know you're scared. You don't have to. You don't.

But if I don't, who will?

For that, there is no reply. It takes several minutes for me to stop crying. I force myself to look over the carved wooden casket, made of such a light coloring. It was probably the cheapest one they could find.

A pale face greets me, despite the make-up to make him look normal. He doesn't look like he's sleeping, he looks just like he did in the hospital: dead. I carefully reach out to run a finger over his shaved head. I imediately pull back afterwards.

Tears are blurring my vision. I can't see anymore. My stomach flips around inside, but I can't make myself throw up. I gag for a few seconds, before turning away. It takes another few minutes of everyone standing there awkwardly before they close the casket for good.

The sun is setting in the west, but I am turned the other way. I'm too busy watching through my tears as my own personal sun finally set into the ground.