Moving On - 1. Chapter 1 - The Funeral

CHAPTER ONE

THE FUNERAL

I was frozen in place as I stared at the coffin in front of me before dropping my gaze down to the single white rose I held in my hand. Forcing myself to move, I took a deep breath and slowly stepped forward to look down upon Steve. My husband took my breath away every time I looked at him. Why would this time be any different? I placed the rose on his chest, and leaned forward to give him one final kiss. A kiss I didn't want to give; a kiss goodbye.

In a numb trance, I quickly returned to my seat. As I sat, the attendants closed his coffin. My name is Scott Hudgins, and on this day, I had to bury my husband. On my left side, my father squeezed my hand gently, while my brother did the same on my right.

Others might have called it a beautiful day; it was mid-July, yet the temperature was surprisingly mild, and there were few clouds in the sky. If it had been any other day, it would have been perfect. Instead, the weather just made me feel even worse. It just wasn't fair. It's supposed to rain at a funeral. At least the cool sting of rain on my face would force me to feel something; anything.

A pastor I had never met before stood and began to speak. I'm sure every word he said was touching. I didn't hear any of it. I was too lost in my head, still trying to process everything that had happened in the past ten days.

My parents, Michael and Felicia Hudgins, along with my brother, Ethan, and his new wife, Emma, had gotten on the first plane out of Baltimore when they heard the news. I had been Ethan's best man just 6 weeks before. Our best friends from college, Dustin and Michelle Smithson, also immediately dropped everything and flew down from Washington DC to be there for me.

Had it not been for them, along with our neighbors, Chris and Sarah, I don't think I'd have been able to survive until the funeral. Even still, I wasn't sure how much longer I could take all the pain burning deep inside. My entire body felt like it was literally being ripped apart. My heart was somehow being crushed while simultaneously exploding. I'm pretty sure somewhere in there I may have had an actual heart attack. I really wouldn't have noticed.

I noticed Dick get up to speak. Richard O'Neil, that is, Steve's father. I was the only person I've ever known to call him that. On the best of days we tolerated each other, but after the events of the past few days, I could honestly say I hated that man and his bitch of a wife, Lydia. They had done this to him. He never wanted any of this.

Steve's twin brother, Tom, sat awkwardly to the side of his mother. I know he needed me to be there for him, but I couldn't even look at him. Until just a few days before, we'd been very close. Now, I couldn't even bear the thought of knowing that a carbon copy of him was still walking around, perfectly alive, while he was not.

I noticed movement, which snapped my eyes back into focus for a moment. Dick was returning to his seat as Michelle walked up to speak. I really tried to listen to her. She'd always been one of the two people in the entire world who could always make me feel better no matter how badly I'm hurting. Steve was the other one. Truthfully, I didn't want to feel better. I wanted the pain. I deserved the pain. Besides, I knew what she was going to say.

"He was wonderful," "He was amazing," "He was perfect."

He was gone. I decided to tune her out.

Michelle would probably be mad at me later if she found out, but I honestly didn't care at the moment. I wasn't caring too much about anything. I looked around, noticing for the first time there was a very large crowd.

Much later, Tom would tell me virtually every person Steve and I had met in our nearly nine years together had shown up to show their respects. He had that type of effect on people. I really only remember seeing bodies. I guess my brain had decided it had processed all it could and had simply given up.

I was pulled out of my thoughts when Ethan nudged me gently.

"Dude, it's your turn, c'mon, you can do this." He helped me up to my feet and half carried me the few feet to the podium that had been positioned for the ceremony. Ethan stood beside me, giving me support.

"I know what you want to say. Just remember where we are, please, bro," he whispered. His hand gently gripped my shoulder.

I cleared my throat and started to speak.

"He was possibly the greatest person I have ever known. No one ever met him and didn't immediately become his new best friend. He was gentle, caring, and loving..."

At this point my voice broke; my entire body shook as I chocked back sobs of grief and rage. I could feel my last bit of will power fading. The one part that kept me from saying or doing something I might regret; from saying what I really felt; from saying the truth.

"Bro, please don't do this now," Ethan almost growled in my ear. He could read me like a book. I also think he knew I needed to do this.

"Fuck this!" I yelled loudly. "This is a sham, and most of you know it. We have been married for a year. We have the certificate from the DC Superior Court framed in our living room. Many of you were at that wedding! And yet, since we have the audacity to live in a state that doesn't recognize it, nothing I say matters."

I looked around for a moment and saw looks of shock and horror from the entire crowd at my outburst, and then I looked directly at the object of my unbridled hatred.

"Dick," I said, with as much venom as I could muster, "when's the last time you talked to your son about his last requests? Did you know we had talked about them many times? In fact, he wanted stipulations in our wills regarding last rights, but I shot him down. I figured no one would be a big enough asshole to question me as to what he wanted, and yet here we are."

I threw my arms up angrily, indicating the cemetery Steve had always found strangely charming.

"Here we fucking are! He wanted to be cremated and placed in a beautiful urn. He wanted a small ceremony with just our families, gathered on a beautiful and remote tropical island. He wanted his ashes spread in the sand and tide while we drank fucking mai tais and toasted his life. He wanted his sendoff to be a vacation for us and a celebration of his life, and yet here we fucking are!!"

My entire body was still shaking like a leaf. Ethan still had his hand on my shoulder, knowing this wasn't the proper place for my rant, but also aware I needed to get it off my chest. My mom was holding my dad back from launching himself at Richard. Dad hadn't known any of this. I hadn't been able to bring myself to tell him. He loved Steve like a third son and would have moved entire mountain ranges for him, had Steve even mentioned in passing he might appreciate it. Richard looked like he wanted to rip me apart. Only the fact that Lydia was crying hysterically and clutching his chest prevented him from doing so.

I knew I had said too much. Still, I couldn't stop myself.

"Every single goddamn one of you is complicit in this charade Dick has decided is in the best interest of everyone except his own son. Today we are here to bury him. Shouldn't what he wanted matter to anyone other than me? Am I the only person in attendance who is not some brainless moron with nothing better to do than undermine the wishes of the dead?

"Fuck this! I need to get out of here."

I shrugged my shoulder out from Ethan's hand and started to leave at a jog. I vaguely recall Ethan trying to catch up and Emma's voice telling him to let me go, that I needed some space.

I did.

So I ran.