Chapter 175: Burying her

It was dreadfully dark in the sky above, and the clouds were crying around me. Heavy drops of freezing rain were hitting me in the face but I didn't have the strength to wipe them away, and I didn't care how cold I was. My black dress and coat was soaking, my boats were nearly ankle deep in the muddy.

But none of it mattered.

I let the rain hit my face, pouring down and mingling with the tears flowing freely from my tears. I could almost imagine I wasn't crying at all, but through out papa's service. I couldn't seem to stop. We should have gone inside but rain had come too fast and there were so many eyes on me.

Looking out over all the people who knew papa through out his life, I didn't recognize half of their faces. Old couples who knew my grandparents from church neighbors from their house I had to sell, and younger men who worked with papa before he retired.

There were so many strange faes that were in blank mind as I tried to recall them. But there was nothing more than a void in my mind and empty ache in my chest. All my emotions died out, yet still I wept.

The tears never seemed to stop.

A flash of lightning struck the sky, lighting it up for the briefiest of moments. I saw massive umbrellas shielding people from the rain huddling together against the cold. Seconds later, thunder rumbled in the sky, and I felt it shaking the earth under my feet and deep in my bones.

I was shaken.

For a moment, just a moment under the flash of light, I thought I saw a familiar face in the back of the crowd. A god of man hidden amongst the strangers who had me swarming all day. A light among the dark.

Andrey Volkov.

Or at least… it looked like him.

Tall, broad-shouldered, still as stone despite the storm. Something about him, his posture, his shadow, his intensity made the hair on my arms rise. The downpour should have blurred every face in the distance, yet that one silhouette stood sharper than the rest, like the storm itself parted around him.

Chills flashed down my spine and along the back of my arms. Pain twisted in my chest, and I felt the pain on the back of my neck raise as if there were unseen eyes on me, watching me.

But when the lightning passed and darkness blanketed the cemetery again, that face vanished. The rain was too thick, like a wall of water and I couldn't see the back of the crowd anymore.

My heart had fluttered back to life briefly in that instant. Just the thought of him alone warned me some secret, hidden part of me I had buried away. The part of me that yearned, that loved.

It couldn't be him. It made little sense to think he would be here, or that he knew about this. Even if he did, why would he come? No it was impossible. Just a trick of the eye in a storm. Even if I did still feel as if I were being watched.

And yet… the sensation lingered.

Not like being watched by a person.

More like being tracked.

Like some unseen presence circled at the edges of the cemetery, silent, patient hidden in the trees that bordered the graves. The wind carried strange shifts, brushing cold air across my face that didn’t match the storm’s direction.

I tried to shake it off.

Just grief. Just the weather. Just my imagination.

I pushed those thoughts back down when the dark returned. My thoughts dipped back into the shadows, standing as still as a statue by the hole in the ground, allowing rain to pelt my face. Part of my darker thoughts wished that earth would split and swallow me up as well but it was impossible.

"And now, Mr Martinez's daughter will read a poem that he requested to be read", The pastor spoke, but I was barely listening. His face turned and spoke again. "Elena?",

My body froze as I heard my name snapping me back to reality. I felt like a stone trying to come alive as I pushed myself to move. As if on autopilot, I stood behind the podium, glancing out over the sea of people while swallowing over my throat.

I had memorized the poem by now. It was always in my hands, my eyes scanning the page over and over. This was the last thing my grandfather could say to me, and I wanted the words etched into my heart and soul.

~when tomorrow starts without me~

~And I'm not here to see~

~If the sun rises and finds your eyes~

~All filled with tears for me~

~I wish you wouldn't cry~

~The way you did today~

~While thinking of many things~

~We did not get to say~

~i know how much you love me~

~As much as I love you~

~Each time that you think of me~

~I know you will miss me too~

~When the day starts without me~

~Please try to understand

~That an angel came and called my name.

~And took me by hand, in the heaven far above~

~And that I would have to leave behind, all those i dearly loved

~But when I walked through heaven's gates, I felt so much at home.

~I know you gonna feel sad, but when tomorrow starts without me ~

~Dont think we are apart. Remember I'm right here in your heart~

Forever~

The words belted from me in as everywhere heard me. They all had their attention on me. By the end of the poem, I was struggling to stay upright. The strength in my legs was failing me and I wanted to collapse onto the muddied ground. The cold was seeping through underneath my skin and making a permanent home for itself within me. I would probably let it.

Somewhere beyond the graves, a low sound rolled through the storm, so faint I almost mistook it for thunder.

But it was deeper.

Like a growl swallowed by the wind.

I forced myself not to look.

Every inch of me trembled as I made my way back to where I stood. Again, my mind left my body and I was only a husk of a person as I watched papa's coffin as they lowered it into the ground. That's where my gaze stayed, even when the strangers approached to give their last condolences and disappear from my life against.

Even as the rain pelted harder and every living person in the graveyard slipped away. I remained at his side. Staring blankly as they shoved dirt over the coffin, one solid thud after another. Each pound of wet dirt was closing papa off from me forever. The last member of my family was gone.

The last of attendees for papa's service vanished through the gate. I didn't lift up my head to say goodbye or wave as they left. Half of them were here to pretend, that they knew him, pretend they cared. I doubted they really did.

But the presence remained.

Unseen but watching from somewhere beyond the trees.

And though I told myself it was nothing…

my heart whispered a name:

Andrey Volkov.