The crisp fall air caressed her nostrils and she closed her eyes, absorbing the fresh scent of rain in the atmosphere before walking into the humid and brightly lit cathedral. The sun was not shining and the clouds roamed endlessly across the horizon, promising a shower. Without warning, a grumble of thunder resounded overhead for what felt like minutes and she deemed it the time to shuffle quickly inside with the others. Appropriate weather for the event she was attending, she thought. Carrie received many pitiful stares, shakes of the head, and apologies from those she knew as she entered, but she only nodded and gave a weak smile to be well mannered. She could tell that they had only halted their conversation while she was in their presence for respective reasons. Afterward they continued as if they weren’t even at a funeral, speaking of their husbands and trying for children, shopping for a certain pair of shoes, how their hair didn’t turn out quite so right that particular day. Carrie was disgusted.
She’d been counting on spending the rest of her life with Christian, but now she would never know how their relationship might have ended. Would it have ended? Could they have remained together for all of their lives, dying warm in their own bed with one another? Or would their relationship have finished just that next year, disputing over something completely worthless? She would never know. Carrie’s eyes drifted to the front of the church, taking in her surroundings. She felt as if she wasn’t meant to be there, as if God had other plans for her. Was she even Carrie? Lightheadedness took over. She was aware that she was looking from a distance at these people, feeling remorse for their loss, sorry that she had never known such an amazing person. This couldn’t be happening to her. But alas, she was the one that had perhaps the hardest bereavement of them all. Of course she was herself, how absurd to even think otherwise.
Yesterday should have been her wedding day--- in this very room. How difficult it was to be here the very next day, mourning the loss of whom she was to wed. She nearly tripped over her wedding dress as she took another step, unthinking, achingly reminded her of what Christian could have thought if he had glimpsed just one glimpse of her in it. Would he have thought her beautiful? A smile nearly twitched at the corners of her lips at the thought, thinking on that signature grin she could have seen as she walked down the aisle toward him, but an onslaught of tears prevented it from taking full effect upon her pale face. The penny in her left shoe was misplaced, and her big toe throbbed with the foreign object lodged beside it. The blue garter was concealed under her dress, comfortable but descending down her thigh as she walked. Something borrowed, something blue. Of course some may have thought her attire inappropriate for a funeral, but something inside of Carrie just made her feel nothing for those that would condemn her. She had bought this gown to wear it, and wear it she would, even if it wasn’t at the time she wanted it to be. She placed the veil gently over her face, trying to conceal the tears that now promised to stain her fair cheeks.
“Who was that?” she heard a woman murmur inquisitively as she passed. “Dressed oddly, she is. Maybe she’s got the wrong church.” Carrie pretended to toss a stray hair behind her ear with the turning of her head, capturing the illustration of two women, both similarly dressed in black and bright green slacks, a hood over their eyes, hair in their faces. They appeared very inapt at a funeral as well, Carrie would have liked to add. They shook their heads and pretended to glance another way as Carrie caught their eye, but they resumed their whisperings and stares as soon as she was only a foot more away, still in earshot.
“Oh, probably was his sister, poor thing,” she heard one of them whisper. Carrie rolled her eyes and a dismal grimace played at her quivering lips as she walked closer to the front of the church. Those women didn’t know Christian at all. Anyone who knew Christian well knew of Carrie, had met Carrie. They shouldn’t have even been there if they had never been acquainted with him. Anger bubbled inside of her like boiling water. Did they make it a social event, going to funerals? Carrie hoped they wouldn’t bother or attempt to speak with her; she wouldn’t be able to handle it.
Upon reaching her seat on the pew in the front of the church, she began to shake hands and whisper condolences with Christian’s father, Mr. Lowe. Carrie awkwardly felt an intense stare upon her after she had leaned back into her seat. Turning to the woman beside her she saw her give a nod, making Carrie believe that she approved of the attire her son’s fiancée was now wearing. Immediately after this moment, the deacon bowed his head and began to pray, signaling the start of the service. The entire room became silent and they clasped their hands together.
“ . . . Lord, please lift this soul into your hands. Heal this family’s hurt . . .”
When he was finished he made his way to the podium, wet his lips, and sighed, opening his Bible. A solemn look crossed his face and his eyes swept the entire room, resting on the front pew where Carrie sat. “Christian would have wanted you all to be here today.”
His gaze did not falter from that pew, even as some in the room shuffled in their seats, sniffling. Carrie clasped Mrs. Lowe’s hand and stifled a sob. She closed her eyes to plead for comfort, to remain strong for the others around her. Feeling a hand tighten and squeeze around her own for a moment, a weak smile came to her face and her eyes strayed back to the deacon. She had missed a few sentences of what the man had said while lost in her thoughts, and she stressed to herself that she needed to pay attention now.
“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. Now we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands.
“One of his favorite songs should show you how much Christian valued others, especially his parents and his fiancée, Carrie.”
Carrie’s eyes went to their corners, imploring to perceive if anyone was or had been staring at her. No one in the front row dared to even look up as the song started, so she didn’t have the courage to turn around.
Something crackled in the speakers above their heads and then began playing a song that Carrie had heard countless times over the past months. It had been a great part of her life just as much as his. Tears came to her eyes as the tender memories began to pour into her mind, their engaging films playing behind her eyelids. It was as if someone wished to see her weep for him, playing that music. It drifted into her ears, tears still approaching her bloodshot, tired eyes, but she did not seek to block out the song’s sound.
I’m hanging onto my peace of mind
I just don’t know
I’m hanging on to those good times, baby
Just want to let them roll
The images continued flashing. Christian and Carrie purchasing the CD at a local store together one night, Christian and Carrie dancing ridiculously to the song in his kitchen before dinner with friends, laughing heartily, Christian and Carrie hearing it blasted from the car speakers on the way home from a date . . . Christian and Carrie, Christian and Carrie. It was all she could think of, the two of them together. Carrie alone sounded bland and unattractive. She remembered the very night it formally had become Christian and Carrie:
The full moon revealed itself brazenly that night, not a cloud in view as the couple stared into the night sky in sweet silence. A picnic blanket was ruffled underneath them, a basket filled with food at their feet. Their toes were uncovered as a result of a recent swim in the lake in front of them. The moon reflected brightly off its still body, casting an eerie shadow as the water lapped against the shore. Only the soft wind gently progressing the crystal water, creating small ripples, was audible. Their skin was still wet, and despite the warmth of the summer night, Carrie shivered. Stray blonde ringlets were plastered to her cheeks and forehead and she used her fingers to gently push them into place behind her ears. Christian began stroking her damp hair softly, lovingly, and she closed her eyes, dozing off.
“You going to sleep on me?”
A contented smile crossed her lips and held its place as she opened her eyes and turned to face him. “No,” she answered kindly. She stared into his eyes with great intensity, as if somehow confirming that he was really hers. He was the best thing that had ever happened to her.
“Good,” he said thoughtfully, placing a hand to her cheek. He caressed her skin softly, whispering in her ear how much he loved her. She only smiled and placed her head in his lap. “I have to ask you something.” He looked down at her with an inquisitive look in his eyes, his eyebrow raised.
Carrie rolled over on his lap to another position and sighed. “Ask away,” she said blankly, her eyes staring at the moon.
Christian’s heart began to beat erratically. This was it. Do it right or she’ll never agree, he had told Carrie he had told himself over and over again after they had recounted the event, and that same command replayed in his mind countless more times as he brought up the courage to ask her. He knew that she would say yes, he just knew it. But she didn’t even seem to realize that he had even spoken to her; her eyes remained held to the moon’s beauty and glow.
“Carrie?” His voice had come out as a squeak, she saw it, and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She had heard it and would soon poke fun at him.
She giggled, indicating his suspicions accurate. “Yeah?” she asked, sitting up and pulling her hair into a limp ponytail with a band around her wrist. Her eyes strayed to the grass beneath them, still unobserving as to what was about to happen.
He shifted from where he sat, jutting one leg out and placing his foot to the ground, forcing the other behind him. She turned and gazed at him with a confused expression on her face. He now kneeled before her. “What are you---” she started, but his actions cut her off. He reached into his back pocket, a smile alighting his face as he took a deep breath for humor. “I was going to wait until tomorrow, but I just can’t.”
Her imploring eyes strained in their sockets, impatiently waiting for him to reveal what he was withholding. Her heart was beating erratically beneath her chest in excitement. She placed her hands together in her lap and parted her lips to question what he was talking about, but the small black box soon came into focus and her eyes enlarged as wide as they could go.
“Will you marry me?”
The band fell from her hair, unclasped, as Carrie didn’t even try to impede her tears of joy. She choked on her own words, eventually nodding as he scooped her into his arms, kissing her long and passionately as only the moon glowed down on them.
Carrie placed her head in her hands as the song continued.
I’m gonna make it to the light and joy
I’ll tell you why
I got a woman who can take me there
The apple of my eye
Carrie concentrated with all her might onto her lap, her hair, the sequins on her dress, the flecks of dust on the floor in front of her, anything that would keep her mind off him. She couldn’t bear this burden. Nearly compulsively standing from her seat to flee from the place and acquire some fresh air, she remembered the long path between the many pews of people that she would have to pass, every eye burning directly through her, their frowns filling their faces with pity. She would lament missing what she had of the funeral, and she had fought an arduous battle within to even come. Not desiring that kind of attention, she reluctantly stayed put, but her mind digressed. Once more she prayed for strength and for her tears to staunch their flow, and the song ended.
The preacher’s voice echoed across the large room, many jumping as they tried to hide their grief. “I have no doubt in my mind that Christian is in Heaven. The many people here would also agree.” He shifted his feet and heaved a sigh. “Christian Lowe was one of the most compassionate people numerous knew. His efforts to build another wing for St. Mungo’s children’s hospital for the sole purpose of amusement for the kids--- rooms filled with stuffed animals, musical instruments, and board games for them to play---” he offered a smile, “---are just one of the many reasons he came off as a wonderful person after just a few moments in his acquaintance. His ability to make friends with the children was amazing. His doctoring abilities were obviously a God-given gift. The way he came into contact with anyone he met, so graciously, so considerate, appealed greatly. Many loved him . . .”
Carrie’s eyes finally glimpsed what was behind the deacon’s lofty body. Christian lay in a sleek, crimson coffin, its lid shining. The shock of this froze her mind and the very blood coursing through her veins seemed to turn to ice. The preacher’s words entered her ears but were not heard. She couldn’t believe this, that his remains were directly in front of her, but him so far from reach. Carrie found that she couldn’t derive her eyes from the scene, even for the hour the vicar spoke. His eyes were closed, his lips somewhat parted, as if he were only sleeping. The Killing Curse used upon him had left no mark or blemish on his body. Though he was not in the same stance Carrie had discovered him, she remained apprehensive it would replay in her mind; this image, too, did not comfort her. He was still dead, peaceful as he may seem or not. The black suit he was wearing meshed well with his rather long, auburn hair, though inside Carrie knew he was probably suffocating. How oxymoronic, considering he was, in fact, dead. Christian never had approved of suits, thinking they were always too itchy or pompous in appearance. Carrie imagined that Christian would have fancied for his body to be dressed in clothing he approved of, especially if he was going to be remaining in it evermore as his only companion within a badly lit coffin beneath the soil. A pain clasped at Carrie’s heart at the remembrance of this. It was funny how she forgot in a matter of seconds, even at his funeral, that Christian was dead and would never again return to her. The bitter veracity confronted her and her lips began to quiver with fear. Who was she now going to turn to when she needed a friend? A lover? There was no way Carrie could disregard his death any time soon, so any slight thought of companionship with a man besides Christian did not divulge itself inside her mind.
“His fiancée, Carrie, would like to say a few words.”
Carrie snapped sharply out of her reverie and her eyes widened. Every curse word in the dictionary formed in her brain, though luckily she did not voice them aloud. She had completely forgotten that she was supposed to speak. Many thoughts of what she would pronounce littered her mind as she ascended the steps alongside the man, reaching the podium far too quickly as she thought fruitlessly for something to say.
“Hello, everyone,” she said modestly, her eyes dropping to the podium’s scratched wood after she had scanned the audience. Every bench had been filled, every pair of eyes staring at her as she still struggled for words. What was she supposed to say? They already knew that she was the deceased’s fiancée; the preacher had spoken it aloud at least twice. Was she intended to recount of Christian’s life from a personal account? She couldn’t fit that speech into a few minutes; she’d have them bored in seconds.
“I loved Christian. Just as many of you do here.” She scraped the floor underneath her with her foot, and as she looked down she glimpsed the coffin, resting postured and formally up on its position. What was in that coffin made Carrie’s heart rapidly stop its beating. She began to shiver as goose bumps crawled up and down her skin, making her teeth chatter with chill. Her heart then began to thump inside her chest unsteadily and she felt herself gasping for breath. She saw, beyond the bright lights that now shined upon her, a silhouette of a man walking away from the scene, then turning to stand at the great double doors at the back of the church. “Christian was . . . Christian is . . .” The many people in front of her still continued to stare at her as if she were something entertaining, their heads tilting to the side and whispers emerging from their lips behind hands. “. . . I’m sorry . . .” Carrie’s eyes rolled far back into her head as she turned around one more time, seeing his body up close for the first time. The fact that she would no longer receive anymore tender kisses or sweet words from him was unbearable. Her knees buckled behind the podium and the last thing she saw before her head hit the ground with a great smack! was Mr. Lowe racing up to catch her before she fell and a broad figure exiting the cathedral.
~ * ~
Seconds later she awoke.
“Carrie, dear,” she heard a motherly voice saying soothingly. Her dress was smoothed near her knees and a shoe returned to her bare foot. Hair was swept away from her face and a small hand was running down her arm, easing her into the living. She didn’t want to return without Christian by her side, but a finger forcing her eyelid open left her sputtering for breath. She wasn’t dead yet.
“Come on, dear, let’s get you to your seat. Do you think you need to get some fresh air for a minute---”
“No, no, Mrs. Lowe, I’m all right. So clumsy,” she added as she was lifted to her feet.
“You’re not clumsy, Carrie, just hurting. Everyone here understands.”
But that had been the wrong thing to say. Carrie’s stomach plummeted as she realized that hundreds of people had just watched her collapse. Embarrassment flooded her cheeks to crimson and she returned to her seat with surprisingly hasty steps, the mutters of the onlookers still perceptible. Mr. Lowe grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze, giving her a kindhearted smile and comforting words to assure her that no one condemned her for what had just happened. He made sure she was properly in the seat before releasing her fingers. “It wasn’t a good idea anyhow, it’s just too soon. For all of us, I think.”
The preacher spoke for a few more minutes and Carrie’s mind focused on what the two people had said. They truly did care for her, comforting her in this horrible time, even when their sorrow was as weighty as hers. Everyone began to shift in his or her seats, preparing to stand. Carrie gasped inwardly, almost silently, as the choir in front of them unexpectedly rose from their chairs to sing. She had not even paid attention to the entire funeral.
Amazing Grace,
How sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me,
I once was lost but now I’m found,
Was blind but now I see
Their beautiful voices echoed off the walls, reverberating and ricocheting inside Carrie’s ears and back again. No one in the room clapped along or made noise. Every person stood from their pews as well, dropping their pamphlets into their seats. Some parted their lips to sing, some mouthed the melodious words with the swaying choir. Most of the congregation rocked with their eyes closed, as if sensing the grief the family and friends of this man held deep within their hearts. Many began to weep again, Carrie included, and she placed a hand over her face to suppress her anguish. Her head boiled inside from trying to repress her sobs and she felt her cheeks flush with great warmth. A pitiful sound escaped her lips. It wasn’t as if anyone would be able to hear her over the singing anyhow. It was the most depressing song she had ever heard, and the one before rivaled it greatly because of the memories it brought back into remembrance. As they went into the second verse the preacher motioned for the crowd to take their seats. When the song was finished he spoke again.
“Christian Lowe will always be remembered.” He closed his Bible.
“The burial will be held at Brothers Memorial Cemetery in London. The funeral will be at three-thirty, so if everyone who wishes to take part of this and console the family would please be on time, I’m sure that they would appreciate it. We’ll see you there.”
Murmurs of approval and muffled chatter began to take place as the man stepped down from the podium, some Muggles leaving immediately to get through the door and to their cars, others walking in the opposite direction to console those in their most dreadful state. The Wizards that left went to a corner restaurant to eat with friends before they would Apparate to the burial location. Carrie could hear the rain pattering against the building and the wind pick up as the funeral ended. The doors rushed open and a harsh, freezing blast of wind struck her cheeks and hair, swirling the strands about and knocking her off balance. She lost the shoe with the penny and impulsively bent down to retrieve it and place it back on her foot. A bell chimed somewhere in the distance three times, signaling three o’clock, thirty minutes before they were to bury Christian. The time couldn’t pass slowly enough.
------------
*Bible verse is II Corinthians verses four and five
*Songs quoted are Amazing Grace and Nightingale by The Eagles
*Chapter loosely based on the song Just a Dream by Carrie Underwood