Or maybe a tad nostalgic?

I went to the memorial service today. I arrived just after three, having to park perhaps a quarter of a mile away from the funeral home, to a line that stretched well into the parking lot. After a week of lovely warm weather, the sky was overcast and the cold wind seemed to cut right into my core. I didn't bring a coat, not realizing it would be so chilly, and I wore open-toe shoes. Needless to say, the wait was uncomfortable due to not only the unpleasant weather but also my thoughts which had turned melancholy.

The line moved achingly slowly until finally, nearly an hour later, I found myself inside the front doors of the building. It was impossible to tell where the line was going but I settled in for the wait. Another hour passed. I saw several people I knew and engaged in a bit of small talk. There was a couple behind me with a baby, who was very sweet, and that brought me smiles when I wasn't lost in thought. I could begin to see where the line ended in a room where his parents stood looking drawn and tired.

Nearly three hours after I arrived, I stood before his mother and found that I had no idea what to say to her. She and I had never met personally but she seemed so accustomed by that time to hugging whomever was in front of her that she hugged me and then looked at me with a vague questioning expression. I explained that I knew her son through my high school sweetheart, who was his best friend. She knew immediately of whom I spoke and informed me that she told him he needed not fly home for the service. She said he had sent his mother to the hospital in his place since he was out of state and, when I told her I'd wondered how he was taking it, she confided that he was taking his friend's death rather hard. It was as I had expected. She then told me they had found a video on the internet, apparently posted by a friend, of her son. He was talking, she said, and she has that forever. I found myself crying - not because I was close to him, although I liked him well, but because I could not imagine her grief.

His girlfriend saw me and hugged me, thanking me for coming and I again found myself without words. Somehow, in mumbling my apologies, I felt completely impotent. What could I possibly say that would help ease the pain? There was nothing.

When I walked through the doors to leave, I saw that the line was just as long as it had been when I'd arrived. I suspected it would continue to be so until the scheduled time was over.

I looked for a gap in the line so I could cross the parking lot. Suddenly, a tall figure appeared, parting the people blocking my way. I didn't look to see who he was until he stopped in front of me. When I raised my eyes, I saw the one face I didn't expect to see. I was rooted where I stood; surprise stole my ability to speak. He smiled at me, those blue eyes giving away nothing, and said, "Hi." I had barely returned the greeting when he reached out to hug me. Not even having to think about it, I easily stepped into his embrace and, voice cracking, told him how sorry I was. He thanked me for coming. Still shocked, I told him I didn't think he was coming. He finally released me and stepped back, telling me he'd awakened this morning in panic and jumped on a plane to get there. It was strange, how awkward it was because of our history and not having seen him in nearly ten years and yet how familiar and easy. I felt nervous. We spoke for a few minutes about his friend and then the topic turned to how our lives had turned out. He told me he's married and has two small children. I told him I'm moving in with Chris. His smile faltered when I told him and I was unsure of what lay behind it. When I told him he was looking at me strangely, he said he'd not really thought out seeing me again - perhaps because he lives out of state, perhaps because things ended between us with so much ugliness, or perhaps because it was so long ago that I just simply don't cross him mind anymore. No, I guess until deciding to go to the memorial, I'd not thought much about seeing him again, either. Not knowing what else to say, I told him I'd say hello to his parents and that I had to leave as it's Chris' birthday. He hugged me again, and told me he was glad to have seen me. I said a quick hello to his parents, exchanged hugs with them and excused myself. I looked at him, not knowing what to say, and so I simply waved. He smiled, still giving away nothing, and said, "See ya later." Or was it "soon"? I can't remember. I laughed, feeling somehow sad and relieved at the same time. Perhaps it was the gift of forgiveness, though I could never say for certain that he gave that to me. Perhaps it was my memories. Perhaps it was the spark I still felt the moment I saw him.

"In another ten years, right?"

Afraid to contemplate the swirl of emotion, I turned and walked away. It took everything I had to not look back. I was coming home to the man who loves me and yet my mind whirled with words unsaid, perhaps not even understood, and my body shook with an undefinable sense of unrest.

I am hoping it will be closure. I am hoping it's just the emotional nature of death. I am hoping upon hope that it will soon pass.

The man who loves me lies slumbering beside me, snoring. It is my mind that is, inexplicably yet undeniably, somewhere else. And that unsettles me.

Perhaps there was more than one last goodbye today.