I watch as my family pull one after another into the driveway. Several vans, a few cars, and a truck or two all traveling to say goodbye. I paste a smile on my face and I wave to them all, welcoming them even though my heart is heavy. I accept their hugs and we chat about the weather, but all I really want to do is cry. It’s been months since it happened, months since I lost my wife, but the pain is still fresh in my mind. I think about her all the time, sometimes forgetting that she isn’t here anymore. When I get up in the morning I find myself wanting to ask her how she slept, only to find that she cannot answer because she is no longer here.
We progress through the grove to the carefully chosen spot that will be her final resting place. I know it’s useless to think that I won’t cry, just looking at all the people who knew and loved her puts me on the verge of tears. I take shallow breaths, hoping to control the hysterics that bubble just below the surface, threatening to emerge at any given moment. I scan the crowd gathered once more and my eyes land upon the song of my fourth child. He’s starting to become a man, but today I see the child in him that once was. Tears stream down his face and as I look down the line of grandchildren lining the rock wall I see the same thing on each and every face. I look over to the lone tree and see her sisters sitting beneath it, trying unsuccessfully to hold back their own tears. I look to my right and I see my children and friends supporting one another. It’s a sad day, but we’re all here together, closer than ever before. I feel the tears start to drip down my face. Yes I cry for my own loss, but I cry more for theirs. Yes I lost my wife, but they lost their sister, mother, grandmother, and even great-grandmother. Tears fall for what should have been, tears falls for what could have been, and tears fall for what we’re here for today and what we’ll never see again.