The sun shone down upon the party, the sky clear and blue.
We stood round, silent in our respect as the cask began to be lowered.
There was a moment where time slowed, and I was imprisoned within the silent musings that death thrusts upon us all.
Then a soft thud of earth sounded and the spell was broken.
Conversation arose between us, and amidst the sorrow there were smiles and introductions. Friends met for the first time, and all around memories were shared.
I wandered throughout the group, small details catching my attention.
A red rose tucked in a lapel. The flash of a watch in the sunlight. A glimpse of a deep purple tie.
A woman nearby was crying, and I offered a handkerchief, plain but for a small M monogrammed in its corner. The woman took it, nodding in thanks, and before continuing on I noticed a hawk’s feather intertwined in her hair.
Then, there in the sun, I realized the bittersweet irony:
The one who first brought us together as a whole was the one whose absence left us forever incomplete.