Love’s Crescendo

Chapter 28

I t felt weird to put on a new outfit for your brother's funeral. Adara would not allow me to wear my usual black clothes. She insisted on going shopping to bring me some options, and we ended up settling on a black, long-sleeved, thin mock turtleneck top tucked into a pair of black pants paired with a black belt. To complete the look, she had me put on a black suit jacket. She acquiesced and let me wear boots, but she went and bought me a new pair. Of course they were Doc Martens, but I had no energy left in me to fight her on it. I was strangely calm, like I had no more tears left in me.

I had screamed, cried, gone numb, begged for him back, barely slept, and slept too much. I got angry at him, at myself, at his dad, and at life. I had oscillated between the whole gamut of emotions at this point, and now I had settled on acceptance. My sadness was now overbearingly peaceful. I took a deep breath then folded the paper that I had written my speech on into a small square and stuck it into my pocket. I could hear everyone talking downstairs, and I had to prepare myself to face them. Kian had flown so many people in. Of course Eric, his partner, Alanna, and my other co-workers, but also some of Myles’s old friends, his sponsor, people he had met in NA meetings, and some of our tent neighbors.

I heard a knock on the door, and I looked up, presuming Kian would be there in the doorway, but instead, it was Ash. Kian had stood so solidly beside me this entire time that now I couldn’t fathom a second of my future without him. What I hadn’t expected was how his friends would also step up and be there for me as well. They made me feel like family. They had made space for my sadness. They had not avoided my pain. In fact, in their own way, I believed they felt it too. I now held so much fondness in my heart for a band that I didn’t know much about a month ago. At this point, I couldn’t imagine not seeing them every day.

“Ready?” Ash held out his arm, and I placed my hand in the crook of his elbow.

“Nope,” I responded honestly as he led me down the hallway.

“Yeah, I get that,” he sympathized.

He still had not shared whom he had lost, but I could see in his eyes that he understood my pain. Kian stood when he saw me coming down the stairs.

“Limo is here,” he announced as he came over and hugged me. I breathed in his scent, allowing it to center me. For two weeks, I had been such a mess. Chaotic, broken, and unable to focus, yet ever since that moment with him in the garden, I had started to feel parts of myself seeping back in. I had lay there in the dirt, bits of leaves and twigs up in places they should never be, my own essence sticky on my thighs, and I had felt joy again. I had worried I would never feel again, let alone feel happiness. I had laughed and hadn’t felt guilty about it. I had kissed Kian and hadn’t felt like I was only supposed to be sad. I had watched my beautiful, sexy boyfriend lower his big body down to the stone floor to eat me out despite the dirt smeared all over me, and I had felt hope for a beautiful future.

I had loved, and I had lost, but I had been brave enough to choose to love again. Nothing could repair the Myles-sized hole in my heart, and I realized that I didn’t need to. I had come to accept that I had not died with him that day. I was still here. A bit bruised but still standing. I would learn to live with the pain. I had accepted it as something that would expand and contract depending on the moment of each day. It would never go away, and yet, somehow, I would learn to exist with the pain as a constant reality. Even as I experienced life, opened up a coffee shop, made new friends, went to Kian’s concerts, watched a movie, and laughed, it would be there. It was now what made me whole. As odd as it was to say that about the most broken part of my life, it was the truth. It completed me, and I held my grief and my love for Myles simultaneously like it was a fragile bomb.

“How are you?” Kian whispered against my hair.

“I am not good, but we are going to be okay.” I leaned up to kiss him and heard Nile pass by and ask if it was okay to go to a funeral with a boner, which made everyone laugh. I grinned against Kian’s mouth because I knew even Myles would have found that comment funny.

The ride in the limo had me feeling a little more apprehensive as I began to anticipate what it would be like to watch them lower the casket into the ground that I knew held my brother. Even with all of the people coming, which included my friends, Myles’s friends, all of the band, and various people who worked for them who had met Myles in the few days we were in California, we were still a small group, and therefore, I had chosen to go straight to the cemetery. I didn’t think we needed to spend time or money on speeches in a funeral home when we could all just gather at the cemetery right away. Neither of us believed in a god or followed any sort of religion, so we didn’t need to make a stop at a church or even invite a priest. I was keeping it simple.

The plan was first his sponsor would speak, Kian would speak, I would speak, the boys would sing a song I had chosen, and then we would lower Myles down to his final resting place. The limo turned onto the road leading to the cemetery, and I began to feel even more nervous. I smoothed the material of my pants with my hands as my palms grew sweaty. Alex got out first and opened the door for us. We all filed out of the car and walked silently toward the recently dug grave. Kian was holding my hand, and I almost felt like I was floating instead of walking.

The weather was beautiful. Perfect even. Not too hot. Not cold. Not a cloud in the sky. The sound of birds chirping filled my ears, and I saw a butterfly flutter by. It almost made me want to laugh that life was actively being lived and was so beautiful at the same time that I was preparing myself to say the final goodbye to the one whom death had stolen from me. It would make more sense to me if it had been storming out and the dark sky had cried along with us, but instead, the universe was almost trying to show me more hope as it had sent us the most beautiful day in California since I had gotten here.

As I drew closer to the grave, I saw that the casket was there, suspended above the ground and covered in flowers. My heart thrummed heavily in my chest. We all gathered around the grave in a semicircle. I nodded at Skylar, who had been Myles’s sponsor while we lived in New York, and he moved toward the front to stand next to the casket, and the tears finally returned as he spoke.

“Hi, my name is Skylar, and I am an addict.”

He paused as one does at meetings and then began to speak again. “I have been sober for seven hundred and thirteen days, and I had the honor of being Myles’s sponsor.” He paused to blow his nose and then continued. “Every fourteen minutes, someone in the United States dies from a drug overdose. Drug overdose deaths outnumber traffic fatalities and prostate cancer deaths. However, it is hardly talked about because people look at it differently. When losing someone to overdose, it is normal to feel sad and angry and grief-stricken, but what no one talks about is losing someone to overdose also comes with guilt, shame, fear, isolation, and blame. We worry that maybe there is something more we could have or should have done to help them. We wonder if they suffered. We ask ourselves where it all went wrong. It’s hard enough to grieve, but it’s even harder when your grief is colored by the world's perception of the stigma of addicts. Studies show that when someone dies of other causes, only in two to three percent of those cases does the family receive blaming comments. However, with overdose that number jumps up to 64 percent. This is incredibly sad because these people who died of an overdose were people just like anyone else who passed. You may find it odd that I’m spewing facts instead of just talking about Myles, but I did this for Myles. Because no matter the way he passed, he was a human being, and maybe you know someone like Myles. Maybe knowing these numbers, you will treat the Myles in your life like the human they are versus just seeing them as an addict. Myles was amazing. He was loved. He will be missed. He will be remembered not by how he died but rather that he lived.”

I let out a sob as Skylar finished talking. He bent over the casket, almost giving it a hug. I watched as he murmured something, and I had to suck all of my emotion in just to keep it together as I watched him say his goodbyes. He then walked over to me and gave me a hug. We stood there like that for a long moment as his face grew wet. Then he whispered, “I’m so sorry,” and went to stand next to Myles’s friends. Kian squeezed my hand and then made his way up to the front. Ash moved over to fill the spot that Kian had just vacated but said nothing. Kian cleared his throat as he took his phone out to pull up his speech.

“Some of you may be wondering why I’m up here when I only knew Myles for less than a year, but as much as I wish I had more time with him, that was honestly all I needed to be able to share what a special person he was. We bonded quickly, and he was so essential in my own healing.” Kian paused, and I watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat.

“I buried two people right here.” He gestured to the two graves to the left of us, and everyone turned to look.

“And admittedly, I was a mess.” Kian gave a watery, choking laugh. “Although Myles didn’t know exactly what had happened to me for most of the time we spent together, we talked about healing often. He would share his thoughts with me about acceptance and peace. He taught me about serenity and knowing that there were things in life that we could not change. Most importantly, he trusted me with his sister.” His eyes met mine, and I let out a sigh that sounded like a whimper as I smiled.

“We watched so many Friends episodes together, and on our drives to his meetings, we talked about things that he loved, his goals, his struggles, and his desire to keep Jessa safe. My point is I did not know an addict. I knew a man. I knew Myles. I loved Myles, and I am going to miss you, Myles.” His voice cracked, and I had to look away so I wouldn’t start bawling right before I had to speak.

“And Jessa…” I looked back at him.

“We all collectively want you to know that when we say we hope you are okay, we don’t really mean that we think you could possibly be okay after this. What we mean is we hope the sadness isn’t drowning you. We hope you can see the tiny cracks of the light at the end of the tunnel, and we hope you know that even when you feel hopelessly alone in your grief, you are not.”

I nodded as another sob clawed its way up my throat, and I watched as Kian laid something on top of the casket and then made his way back to me. I hugged him and felt him kiss my cheek as Ash ran a hand down my back in support, and I heard Eric and Alanna speaking encouragement from behind me. I can do this , I thought. I felt my breath hitch as I walked closer to the casket and ran a hand down the wood. I could feel the metal of the heart song necklace against my chest, where it rested next to my North Star charm. I felt suspended in time for a moment, unsure of how I was actually experiencing this nightmare without Myles by my side. Somehow, I centered myself, took a deep breath, and began to speak.

“I was doing some research on the way various cultures grieve, and I came across an interesting fact. The Navajo people have no word for goodbye. Because goodbye means gone, and they believe that when someone dies, they’re not really gone since the impact that they had on us lives on. I really like that perspective. What it means to me is we don’t love Myles in the past tense; we love him in the present. He is loved. He is special. He is smart and kind and creative and gentle. It’s not that he was those things, he is those things because he will live on in all of us. All of us whom he impacted in his quiet way. I admit that I have been torn up about the way that he passed. For the last two weeks, I’ve worried that maybe he had been scared or was in pain when it happened, but then I saw a post online the other day that said, ‘I believe death is like being carried to your bedroom when you were a child and fell asleep on the couch during a family party. You can hear the laughter from the other room, but you choose to sleep.’” The tears I had kept at bay were now flooding my eyes and tracking down my face. I heard sobs from the crowd, but I did not look up to see whom they were from.

“That gave me so much peace because if death is gentle and loving like that, then I have to believe that he wasn’t scared and he wasn’t in pain. I know he knew how much I loved and still love him and would have done anything to save him. I want you all to know that this pain of grief that you see me going through is worth it because it means that I got to be his sister and experience loving him. So, just know that Iam in no rush to get rid of these feelings because grief is just me holding onto my love for my brother. I’ll end off with this: I read a quote that said, ‘Where there is deep grief, there was great love,’ and that truly encompasses our life together. So I will not say goodbye, My My. I will just tell you, see you later .”

At this point, I was on my knees in the grass, lying over the casket, sobbing, and as painful and as hollow as it felt, it also felt peaceful and real. Because I now embraced that this sharp-edged pain inside of me was all just love with nowhere else to go. I slowly calmed as I closed my eyes and smelled the flowers on his casket. I felt the sun on my face and the breeze in my hair. I felt my system relax, and I finally mustered up the strength to stand as Alanna came over. She held my hand as we walked back to join the others, and she continued to hold onto me as Kian and Ash began to sing the song I had chosen a cappella. I had asked them to sing a slowed-down version of the song “Symphony” by Clean Bandit. When I received the heart song necklace, I had thought of the lyrics from the song about feeling incomplete and being a part of his symphony.

I had decided it was the perfect song to play at the funeral as it spoke of love, the emotion of music, and the raw energy that was grief. Kian’s voice tore another level of sadness through me, and I gently rocked my body to the beautiful melody and meaningful words speaking of not letting go.

Kian held me as we watched the cemetery workers lower the casket into the earth and then begin to fill it in with the dirt that had been piled up on the side. I was out of tears again, and I felt cold and stiff. All I could do was watch them take shovel after shovel full of dirt and slowly deepen the space between my brother and me.

As the dirt filled the entire grave and the crowd began to disperse, a gust of wind rustled my hair and blew across my face. I told myself that it was Myles going off on his next adventure. I sighed and felt the breath fill me with the reminder that I was here. I was alive, and I was going to truly live. For Myles. For myself and for Kian. Kian, who has been my rock since he had grumpily joined my life. Kian, who had cosmically allowed me to achieve my dream of getting Myles to California, even if it had just been for a short time. Kian, who had allowed me to bury my brother just as he asked and not cremate him, which, back at home, would have been all I would have been able to afford. Kian, whom I loved with every fiber of my being for what felt like forever, yet somehow, I had only just verbalized the sentiment to him. Kian, who held me close as we walked back to the car, leaving my brother behind.

Back at the house, Zara had laid out a spread that rivaled any of the buffets at the local free parties I had gone to back at home. Everyone we cared about was sitting around the house, and I excused myself to get changed out of my funeral clothes. Up in the room, I let them drop to the floor and then put on a pair of leggings and a tank top that had magically appeared in my drawer after one of Adara’s many shopping trips. I was plugging my phone in to charge when I heard the door open. Kian came into the room, loosening his tie.

“Hi, baby,” he greeted me as he shed his suit jacket and began to unbuckle his belt.

“The song and your speech were beautiful,” I told him.

“Thank you.” He came over to kiss my forehead and then disappeared into the walk-in closet, returning in a pair of sweatpants. His phone, which he had left on the bed, lit up, and I saw a text from Gordon flash across the screen.

“Terrible timing, I know.” It read. “But your single just dropped.”

Kian had been working on a song without the guys for the first time in their career together. He wouldn’t let me sit in on his sessions, and he had told me I could listen to it when the time was right. I had been so distracted by my grief and the funeral that I hadn’t protested at all. I didn’t say anything as Kian picked up his phone and read the text. I watched the muscles in his shoulders bunch as he tensed up. He turned and eyed me.

“Ready to go down?” he asked.

“I want to hear your song,” I told him, letting him know that I had seen the text. He sighed.

“Today is about Myles. I told the label to wait, but they like to drop music on Tuesdays, so they didn’t listen to me.”

“Today is about life. I have gone through every single stage of grief in the last nineteen days, and today, I am ready to really and truly live, so play me your song, Kian.” I curled my feet under me and waited patiently. Kian hesitated. I smiled as he sat and ran my fingers around the edges of his fresh tattoo.

I was still overwhelmed by his decision to etch me permanently onto him. I planned on getting Myles’s fingerprint tattooed onto my finger, and when I went to the tattoo artist, I was also going to get one for Kian. I had already found what I wanted. It was a treble clef outlined in fine line black ink and filled in with watercolor light blues and pinks. The top of the music note ended in a heart, and it was surrounded by more tiny fine line hearts and music notes in a circular design. It was delicate and a perfect way for me to show Kian how deeply my feelings for him ran.

I was shaken from my thoughts by Kian telling me that the title of his new song was “Coffee.” My heart skipped a beat as he pressed play, and music filled the air around us. At first, it was just the tender pluck of a violin, but it was quickly joined by the muted tone of a harp, then the thrum of a cello, and the warm timbre of a guitar. The resonant vibration of drums started up, followed by the bright sound of the piano, and then, for a moment, what had to be the thin call of a flute. The horns sounded, and I was quickly surrounded by the notes of an entire symphony. The music died down, and we were left with just the emotive lilt of the guitar, the piano, and the drums. Kian’s voice crooned over the speaker. He sang of love, of lust, of music, and of need, all wrapped up in one song. My body recognized what he was saying before my brain did. I shifted toward him, my shoulders curving forward in an effort to touch him and to be touched by him. He gathered me against his chest, my face now against his bare skin, one ear picking up the thump of his heart, the other hearing him tell me he loved me through his music. Something I had known to be true for a while, even though we hadn’t actually said it until that day in the garden. We hadn’t really needed to. As the song came to an end, the flute and violin played the last bits of the hauntingly beautiful tune that tugged at my heartstrings, and then the room fell silent. I looked up at him as he peered down at me, his eyes swimming with emotion. I reached up and ran my fingers through his beard.

“I love you too,” I whispered. “I will never finish falling in love with you.” I leaned up to kiss him, and I felt his love and his relief pounding in the rhythm of the pulse in his neck.

“I saw a quote when I was figuring out what to say today.” Kian spoke in that gruff, reluctant way he had about him. “It’s by Atticus, and it said, ‘I lost my way all the way to you and in you I found my way.’”

I took in a deep breath as I allowed his words to seep in. I understood them. I felt them. I knew them.

“You are my true north, Jessamine.” He rocked me as he spoke. “It will always be you. If I had to choose between you and everything else, I would choose you. Show me you and all the things I’ve ever wanted. Still you. Every day. Every time. I know that we’ve both been through a lot, and we’ll both probably always be a little broken inside, but I promise you I love you with every single piece of me.”

I felt a tear slip from my eyes and drift down my cheeks. What a beautiful, heartbreakingly perfect day it had been. On one hand, my heart was shattered into a million pieces, and on the other hand, my love for Kian and his love for me were actively putting me back together.

“I love you,” I told him again. He smiled and wiped away my tears.

“You have me, baby. Until the very last note in every symphony plays. You have me.”

I leaned my head against his chest once more, and I could have sworn I heard the sound of a violin again, playing a song only the two of us could hear.