RP: Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow
Date: 25 May 1998
Characters: Eloise Midgen, Hannah Abbot, Susan Bones, Pomona Sprout, Ernie MacMillan. Other family and friends of Megan.
Location: A Cemetery In Kent.
Status: Public
Summary: Megan's friends come together after her funeral.
Completion: Complete
The day was almost too warm for May, and her only set of black robes were an old pair of her mothers that were wool and quite hot, especially when the sun peeked out from behind the clouds. The robes itched, as well, and from time to time Eloise would scratch at her wrists without thinking, the irritation almost a welcome distraction from the business at hand. She stood awkwardly in the old, tree lined cemetery, hands clasped in front of her, watching as the coffin was lowered slowly into the ground. Her mother was beside her, her brother behind them, his hand on her shoulder. She had seen Hannah at the church, and a few other people from the school, most of them looking solemn and strange in their dress robes. From the moment the service had started, she had felt the repressed tears threatening to break through the hard facade she had put up, but she had fought them, holding them in until it physically hurt to take a breath.
Megan had been so lovely in the casket, Eloise thought, her dark hair framing a too pale face, eyes closed, not in sleep, but from a rest from which she would never awake. When she was alive, Megan's eyes had always danced with amusement and were quick to tear up at the sorrows of another. It didn't seem like her beneath those closed, shadowed lids. It seemed like a doppelganger person, like one of those wax people she'd seen once in that Muggle museum in London her uncle had taken her to. They had been almost too life like, so perfect in their waxen likeness that they had been imperfect. Too good to be real. It reminded her of that, seeing Megan in the polished wooden box, surrounded by yellow and white flowers, a bouquet of golden chrysanthemums tucked into the coffin beside her on the ivory silk.
This Megan wasn't her Megan. She was a likeness. Nothing more. Her Megan was in the shadow of memory now, far beyond her reach save in dreams or recollections. Gone was the girl with the long plait down her back who'd goaded Eloise into climbing onto the roof of her parent's cottage. She'd fallen too, and almost broken her neck, but neither of them had ever told a soul.
She had known Megan as long as she had been alive, practically, and Megan had always led the way of the two of them, Eloise gamely following along with whatever she had planned. Megan had been kissed first and had a boyfriend first. She preferred laughter to tears and shunned chocolate in favor of strawberries. Her birthday was two months before Eloise's, so she had always had the honor of being older for those two months, ushering in each new age when they were children as if it was something completely, utterly magical while Eloise lagged behind. They had been so excited the year that they had turned eleven, when Hogwarts had loomed so brilliant on their horizon. Now she was gone ahead again, and Eloise felt as if an essential part of her was missing. An arm, a leg, an eye. Air.
For the past week she'd been trying to bury herself in the work of the castle, trying to pretend, to make the others feel more at ease when they'd heard about Justin, but right now all she could think was that she wasn't sure if she would ever be the same. Always before she'd been able to see the humor in things, to laugh in the face of darkness, but now, with both her father and her best friend gone, the people that had loved her best for exactly who she was, she felt hollowed out. Dry. Forsaken.
Her mother had discussed having a memorial service for her father, but Eloise wasn't certain she would be able to. She remembered her father already, every single day, every time she saw a book or his favorite color or her own eyes in the mirror, and having something like this, something solely focused on him seemed more difficult than she was sure she could bear. In her mind, she'd already said her goodbyes to him, although in her heart she knew it was never really farewell. For Megan though, the pain was fresh yet, raw. It made her heart ache and her stomach twist and with every breath she was keenly aware that Megan would never breathe the sweet air of late Spring again.
Earlier, back in the small church the service had been held at, she had recited a verse to the gathering at the request of Megan's mother. As she stood, watching the first clods of dirt fall into the gaping chasm that separated the living from the dead, she thought about the words as she tried to fight her tears. Some day, some how, she would see Megan again, she just wondered if she was destined in this life to always feel this alone.
Death is nothing at all
I have only slipped away into the next room
I am I and you are you
Whatever we were to each other
That we are still
Call me by my old familiar name
Speak to me in the easy way you always used
Put no difference into your tone
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow
Laugh as we always laughed
At the little jokes we always enjoyed together
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was
Let it be spoken without effort
Without the ghost of a shadow in it
Life means all that it ever meant
It is the same as it ever was
There is absolute unbroken continuity
What is death but a negligible accident?
Why should I be out of mind
Because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you for an interval
Somewhere very near
Just around the corner
All is well.
Nothing is past; nothing is lost
One brief moment and all will be as it was before
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!(1)
As the gathering began to break apart, Eloise's brother had to nudge her to bring her attention back, and she wiped her cheeks with her fingers as they joined the queue pausing to speak to Megan's mother.
1. Canon Henry Scott-Holland, 1847-1918, Canon of St Paul's Cathedral
Characters: Eloise Midgen, Hannah Abbot, Susan Bones, Pomona Sprout, Ernie MacMillan. Other family and friends of Megan.
Location: A Cemetery In Kent.
Status: Public
Summary: Megan's friends come together after her funeral.
Completion: Complete
The day was almost too warm for May, and her only set of black robes were an old pair of her mothers that were wool and quite hot, especially when the sun peeked out from behind the clouds. The robes itched, as well, and from time to time Eloise would scratch at her wrists without thinking, the irritation almost a welcome distraction from the business at hand. She stood awkwardly in the old, tree lined cemetery, hands clasped in front of her, watching as the coffin was lowered slowly into the ground. Her mother was beside her, her brother behind them, his hand on her shoulder. She had seen Hannah at the church, and a few other people from the school, most of them looking solemn and strange in their dress robes. From the moment the service had started, she had felt the repressed tears threatening to break through the hard facade she had put up, but she had fought them, holding them in until it physically hurt to take a breath.
Megan had been so lovely in the casket, Eloise thought, her dark hair framing a too pale face, eyes closed, not in sleep, but from a rest from which she would never awake. When she was alive, Megan's eyes had always danced with amusement and were quick to tear up at the sorrows of another. It didn't seem like her beneath those closed, shadowed lids. It seemed like a doppelganger person, like one of those wax people she'd seen once in that Muggle museum in London her uncle had taken her to. They had been almost too life like, so perfect in their waxen likeness that they had been imperfect. Too good to be real. It reminded her of that, seeing Megan in the polished wooden box, surrounded by yellow and white flowers, a bouquet of golden chrysanthemums tucked into the coffin beside her on the ivory silk.
This Megan wasn't her Megan. She was a likeness. Nothing more. Her Megan was in the shadow of memory now, far beyond her reach save in dreams or recollections. Gone was the girl with the long plait down her back who'd goaded Eloise into climbing onto the roof of her parent's cottage. She'd fallen too, and almost broken her neck, but neither of them had ever told a soul.
She had known Megan as long as she had been alive, practically, and Megan had always led the way of the two of them, Eloise gamely following along with whatever she had planned. Megan had been kissed first and had a boyfriend first. She preferred laughter to tears and shunned chocolate in favor of strawberries. Her birthday was two months before Eloise's, so she had always had the honor of being older for those two months, ushering in each new age when they were children as if it was something completely, utterly magical while Eloise lagged behind. They had been so excited the year that they had turned eleven, when Hogwarts had loomed so brilliant on their horizon. Now she was gone ahead again, and Eloise felt as if an essential part of her was missing. An arm, a leg, an eye. Air.
For the past week she'd been trying to bury herself in the work of the castle, trying to pretend, to make the others feel more at ease when they'd heard about Justin, but right now all she could think was that she wasn't sure if she would ever be the same. Always before she'd been able to see the humor in things, to laugh in the face of darkness, but now, with both her father and her best friend gone, the people that had loved her best for exactly who she was, she felt hollowed out. Dry. Forsaken.
Her mother had discussed having a memorial service for her father, but Eloise wasn't certain she would be able to. She remembered her father already, every single day, every time she saw a book or his favorite color or her own eyes in the mirror, and having something like this, something solely focused on him seemed more difficult than she was sure she could bear. In her mind, she'd already said her goodbyes to him, although in her heart she knew it was never really farewell. For Megan though, the pain was fresh yet, raw. It made her heart ache and her stomach twist and with every breath she was keenly aware that Megan would never breathe the sweet air of late Spring again.
Earlier, back in the small church the service had been held at, she had recited a verse to the gathering at the request of Megan's mother. As she stood, watching the first clods of dirt fall into the gaping chasm that separated the living from the dead, she thought about the words as she tried to fight her tears. Some day, some how, she would see Megan again, she just wondered if she was destined in this life to always feel this alone.
Death is nothing at all
I have only slipped away into the next room
I am I and you are you
Whatever we were to each other
That we are still
Call me by my old familiar name
Speak to me in the easy way you always used
Put no difference into your tone
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow
Laugh as we always laughed
At the little jokes we always enjoyed together
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was
Let it be spoken without effort
Without the ghost of a shadow in it
Life means all that it ever meant
It is the same as it ever was
There is absolute unbroken continuity
What is death but a negligible accident?
Why should I be out of mind
Because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you for an interval
Somewhere very near
Just around the corner
All is well.
Nothing is past; nothing is lost
One brief moment and all will be as it was before
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!(1)
As the gathering began to break apart, Eloise's brother had to nudge her to bring her attention back, and she wiped her cheeks with her fingers as they joined the queue pausing to speak to Megan's mother.
1. Canon Henry Scott-Holland, 1847-1918, Canon of St Paul's Cathedral