CHAPTER 8 THE LONGEST GOODBYE #3
The collar of my dress suddenly feels too tight, like it’s choking me.
My mom picked it out—a long black sheath dress with a belt around the waist, black stockings, black shoes.
How plain and sad it looks makes me think of Noah.
He loved to dress. Cip and Caleb were always giving him a hard time about how put together he was.
He was a lot like my mom in that way, always dressed to impress even when the only person he was trying to impress was me.
My throat tightens up. Is everything going to remind me of him from now until forever?
How am I supposed to live like that, with this horrible ache always threatening to take me down?
Miss Cliff arrives with a few of Noah’s extended family members, and she hugs me as she passes by to her seat at the front.
Noah’s dad passed away when he was little, and his mom only has one older sister and a few cousins.
They all file in, dressed in black and draped in sadness.
Miss Cliff gives me a quick smile and I’m taken aback.
She’s sad, obviously, but the smile is convincing.
Like it’s not hard for her to twist her mouth up and feign happiness at seeing me.
I feel like I’ll never smile again, and Noah was my boyfriend; I loved him but Noah was Miss Cliff’s only child.
I thought she’d be a complete wreck, but she settles into her seat and even manages a small chuckle at something one of her family members says.
My parents take up their places at the back of the room. Someone gets up to speak, and I quickly move to my mom’s side.
“The casket’s not open,” I say. “Miss Cliff said she wanted it open.”
My mom squeezes my arm. “She changed her mind. It’s too hard for her right now.”
“What?” I ask, my heart thudding in my chest. “No. I—I thought I was gonna get to see him one more time.”
“Meka—” my dad begins.
Something takes over me—grief, delirium from too little sleep, I can’t say—but the next thing I know I’m marching up the center aisle with only one thing in my mind—I need to see Noah. I grip the handle and pull up on the casket lid as startled gasps and groans erupt behind me.
“Meka!” My mother is suddenly at my side, pulling me away. “Don’t do this, baby. Please.”
I tug on the lid, but it still won’t budge. The casket is sealed—something we usually don’t do before the service is over in case anyone needs to see their deceased loved one one last time. I am that person now. I need to see Noah.
“Why is it sealed?” I ask as my mom and dad struggle to pull me away. “You said you wouldn’t seal it! I need to see him! Please! I can’t see him one more time?”
My mother shakes her head as my dad bites back tears.
“Mom!” I scream, my voice breaking under the weight of my grief. “Mom, please!”
“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” my dad sobs.
“Meka,” Miss Cliff says softly.
I shake free from my mother’s grip and kneel in front of Miss Cliff. I put my head in her lap and she gently puts her hands on my head.
“I’m sorry—I’m sorry.” I know I’m in the wrong. I know I’m making a scene but I’m not in control of myself and I don’t know what else to do.
“It’s going to be okay, Meka,” Miss Cliff says, giving me that genuine smile again. “You have to be strong. We’ll get through this.”
“I—I don’t want to be strong!” I snap. “I can’t do this! He can’t be dead! Bring him back! Bring him back now! Please!” As if she could do that. As if that is in her power.
“Meka,” my mom says softly. “Please don’t do this.”
I stand, embarrassed, and flee to my room.
I’ve seen people act a fool at a funeral.
I’ve seen people try to climb into the casket.
I even saw a woman try to follow her deceased mother into the open grave by just jumping in like she was diving into a pool.
I never thought I’d be the one showing out in front of a bunch of grieving people.
The shame I feel is heavy but by the time I’ve composed myself the service is over.
My mom comes to my room and tells me I should stay here while the coffin is transported to the Ithaca City Cemetery, just a few blocks from my house but I’m out the door before she can finish what she’s saying. I’m going. I can’t let Noah make this last trip alone.
The hearse leads the way with Miss Cliff and Noah’s family riding in a blacked-out sedan behind it.
I ride in the hearse, squeezed in beside my mom.
I put my hand on the casket, picturing Noah resting inside it.
My mind is scattered to a million places.
As we exit the car, the cold is nothing compared to the sting of grief.
We gather outside the Cliff family’s crypt.
Noah’s great-great-great-grandfather had been a Cornell alumnus.
When he died, his daughter enshrined him in a tomb cut into the rolling hills of the Ithaca City Cemetery.
Now Noah will lie beside him and the other members of the Cliff family for eternity.
As the casket is deposited inside a narrow hollow in the crypt, I can’t get a handle on what I’m seeing. The boy I love is being sealed behind a wall right in front of me. I’ll never see his face or feel him close to me again.
When all is said and done, Miss Cliff hugs me and says she’ll be around to check on me.
She leaves with her family and while my mom and dad offer to stay, I tell them to go.
After everyone clears out, I sit in the snow in front of the crypt and let the cold numb me.
I lean against the decorative stones, wishing for all of this to be some terrible nightmare that I can wake up from.
As I lean against the side of the crypt, movement draws my attention up a sloping hill that leads to the upper portion of the cemetery.
A person is standing at the precipice. I hadn’t seen any other vehicles in the small lot next to the cemetery.
It didn’t look like there was another service happening today.
But this person is dressed all in black and maybe their coat is too big or they’ve got some kind of blanket draped around them but they almost look like they’re wearing a cloak.
The cold wind whips my face, and I shut my eyes.
When I reopen them, the person has moved to stand beside a pillar adorning one of the mausoleums up there.
They lean against it and I can’t tell if they’re looking in my direction or not.
In the blustery wind and swirling snow, it’s hard to make out the details of their face.
I want to yell at them to go away. I want to be alone but who am I to run off somebody visiting their deceased loved ones? Isn’t that why I’m here too?
A gathering of ravens squawks high over my head and the cold becomes too much for the thin sweater I’d put on. I stand, brush the snow off my clothes and walk home, feeling more alone than I ever have.
I go around the back of the house, not wanting to walk past the front room where Noah’s picture is probably still propped up.
The hearse is gone again and as I open the back door, something catches my attention.
A brown paper bag sits open in the top of the dumpster out back.
Something inside, some kind of fabric, spills out over the edge.
My eyes water as the frigid wind wraps me up again, but I step closer to the dumpster.
The fabric is a jacket or maybe a black sweater, I can’t tell.
“Meka?” My mom spots me through the glass and comes rushing out.
“You’re going to get hypothermia being out there with no coat.
” I let her take me inside and she rubs my arms trying to push some warmth back into them.
“Why don’t you go get out of those clothes, I’ll make you something to eat, and we can just watch a movie or something? ”
I nod and she keeps her eyes on me as I trudge upstairs to my room.
I put on a pair of sweats and ball up my dress before shoving it into the back of my closet.
I never want to see it again. I switch on the space heater and sit down in front of it to warm myself only to find myself crying a minute later because the last time I was in that spot, Noah was next to me.
This is how it goes. Noah is gone and I have to find a way to live. It feels like everything should stop, like I should be able to pause the world around me, but it doesn’t work like that.