The last farewell

A caravan of mourners arrive.
Everyone gathers around the grave, though they do not acknowledge each other, it is after all a solemn occasion.
My friends, my family, my child & even my enemies bid farewell one last time.
Dozens of red roses lie neatly beside the grave, where the priest is now silent.
Each person steps forward, picks up a rose & tosses it on the grave.
It is horribly cold.
Snow lies scattered in patches on the ground.
Beneath the dirt is half frozen.
The priest waves his hand over the coffin in the traditional catholic gesture.
The priest begins the eulogy.
None of the mourners are listening.
Each are thinking of their own private memories.
One person remembers the bad times.
Another is filled with tears thinking of loving memories.
My child goes through the motions of the ceremony because it is what is expected of her.
If she could hear my thoughts I would plead with her not to be harsh with her memories: being weak, fallible, therefore human.
The service is over.
The grave diggers are left to lower the coffin.
The crowd starts to drift away & I want to yell after them: Hold your tears, for I feel no pain.
My body wrapped in this wooden cocoon is no longer a part of me.
My soul has separated & risen above it, hopefully to someplace easier & better.
I float higher & higher.
Bless me father for I have sinned...