A Second Chance

"For dust we are, and unto dust, we shall return. May the soul of our dearly departed brother, son, father and friend rest in peace.” The priest’s voice reverberated in the otherwise quiet cemetery. 

Amaliah’s gray eyes were glazed over; raw, dull and full of grief. She was in shock, and she would’ve collapsed on the floor and rolled into the freshly dug grave if it was not for her mother’s firm grip on her arm and her friend's support on her other side.

She reached up and ran her hands through her loose ponytail, raking her fingers over her scalp. She didn't care if she bled, all she wanted was the pain and relief that came with doing that. The scrunchie she had put in place to hold her hair came off, and her lush brown hair cascaded down her shoulders. 

Her limbs were stiff and her legs threatened to give way under her. A dizzying feeling washed over her and bile rose in her throat. The coffin was lowered into the open grave, and Amaliah started to tremble. 

The priest grabbed a handful of dirt from a nearby pile and poured it on the casket, muttering prayers and reciting corresponding bible verses. 

“Ms Rivers, it’s time to say goodbye.” The priest informed her in a gentle yet firm tone. She shrugged off her mother’s grip and moved towards the pile of dirt. 

She shivered as the chilly wind enveloped her, and for a brief moment, she wished she hadn’t been headstrong about putting on a coat. The last thing she needed at the moment was coming down with an illness. 

She had to be strong, now more than ever. The gloomy and oppressive weather matched the solemnity of the service. It seemed as though the universe was in sync with Amaliah’s grief.

Friends and wellwishers of the family watched with morose and sympathetic expressions as she crouched down and let her hand sink into the damp dirt. 

She thought of her husband, who was being buried. This was it. After she paid her last respects, the grave would be covered and the headstone would be lowered. 

He would be gone forever. She would never hear his cheerful chatter when she got home from work, he would never be there to massage her feet, diligently share the cooking and house chores with her, lift her spirits when she was feeling down. 

She almost burst out laughing right there and then. It all seemed like one extravagant prank or dark humor, and she half expected him to jump out from behind the trees and laugh at everyone’s sober faces. 

Rafael could be such a clown sometimes, and he liked to call himself a prank lord. It was something he could easily pull off, even if it took him a month to plan and execute everything.

However, even as those thoughts coursed through her mind, she knew he was gone. There was no turning back time, and she realized that it was truly the living that suffered. 

She curled her hand around the damp dirt and grabbed a handful. She staggered to the front of the open grave and let the dirt drift from her hand onto the coffin where her husband’s body was enclosed. 

The little stones in the dirt struck the coffin, and the sound echoed throughout the cemetery. She knew she would never forget that sound of stone against wood, for as long as she lived. 

Her mother-in-law stepped forward to pay her last respects. She packed a handful of dirt as Amaliah had, and poured it onto the coffin. Her face was grim and unsmiling, but there were no tears on her cheeks. Amaliah guessed she was probably in too much shock to cry, and she didn't blame the woman. She still couldn't believe it herself.

Her parents and all their friends stepped forward to pay their last respects as they dropped flowers or dirt onto the grave, making the sign of the cross or saying a prayer as they did.

She watched, still in shock as the grave was covered up by the gravediggers. The headstone was lowered, and it read:

Here lies Rafael Rivers; beloved brother, son, father and friend. 1989 - 2019.

The clergyman said the final prayers and did the sign of the cross. 

"We pray for the repose of his soul. May the good Lord comfort the beautiful family he left behind."  

It was over, Amaliah realized. Rafael had been buried. It was no prank. Friends and family came up to her to offer their condolences. They mumbled hurried, unintelligible words as they patted her back or gave her a brief hug.

She wanted to tell them that time wasn't going to heal this wound, and that she wasn't sure everything was going to be okay. She had lost her best friend and nothing was okay at the moment. 

But she didn't say anything, and they continued to come up to her and mutter the words they felt would make her feel better, as she struggled to grasp the concept of the fragility of life. One minute someone was here, and the next minute they were gone forever. What a waste it was.

After everyone had dispersed, she sat in front of the headstone and refused to budge despite the pleadings from her parents and friend. She caressed the black marble and closed her eyes. She imagined him running his finger along her skin, with his bare skin pressed against hers in the most intimate way possible.

She didn't budge even when the downpour started, and she lay down beside the marble and talked to him about the most random things. The sleeting, needle-like rain pounded into her skin and seeped into her bones, and there she fell unconscious.

It was time to mourn and then move on because that was what Rafael would’ve wanted. He would’ve wanted her to move on with her life and be as happy as she could be. Or so she thought.