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| Closure |
| By: Kathy Ritchie |
Harvey stood at the back of the crowd, his head hung low as he tuned out the priest reciting the ritualistic prayer. He felt so isolated in the hoard of people that had come for Evan’s funeral. Friends and family, his church, the youth group he sponsored. They were all there. Harvey felt a pang in his chest for what everyone had lost. Evan had become a role model to so many. It was so unfair that he should be taken when he had worked so hard for everything he gained. The guilt had been eating away at him. Everyone had reassured him that it wasn’t his fault, but he couldn’t help second guessing himself. If he had only been a few seconds earlier. If only he had been the one to spot McNair. If only. He had been walking around in a fog since the doctors told him that Evan was gone. He knew that it couldn’t be true. Evan had been on his feet when he found him. He had spoken to him. The ambulance had been there within minutes. The medics were swiftly capable. The hospital was seconds away. Everything had gone so smoothly, so efficiently. How could he be gone? Harvey could hear the doctors and nurses shouting out urgent instructions as he stood outside the emergency room staring at his blood stained hands. Evan’s blood. He felt his body jolt and it stirred some awareness in him. When his stomach lurched again, he realized that he was hearing the whistle, then thump of the shock paddles against Evan’s chest. His eyes locked on Evan’s still face through the tiny glass window of the door as the thump came again. The only thought in his head, I should have ran faster. This wouldn’t be happening if I had only run faster. The next few days had been a blur. He had a vague memory of making arrangements at the hospital, then the funeral home when Evan’s father insisted that the body should be shipped back to San Francisco. He hadn’t questioned the decision, merely performed his function. Evan’s landlord had to be contacted, his apartment prepared for shipping, his truck dealt with. One thing after another, Harvey did what needed to be done. Packing Evan’s desk had been the worst. Every picture, knickknack and gum pack held a memory. Harvey nearly laughed out loud when he found Evan’s stash of gum and combs in the bottom drawer of his desk. Then his heart broke when he found the picture of Cassidy in Evan’s arms stashed away in his Bible for safe keeping. Harvey eyes locked on Cassidy’s face through the crowd. She stood by the casket while the honor guard meticulously folded the flag that had been used during the ceremony. He couldn’t even imagine what she was going through or how she felt, but, even in mourning, she had a regalness about her. Then, as Nash wrapped his arm around her shoulders, she looked so small, so fragile. Cassidy straightened when a uniformed officer approached her with the folded flag. She nodded at his hushed words, then accepted the flag. Her chin was held high and dark glasses covered her eyes, but streams of tears ran down her face. Regal, but human. His eyes dropped once more as his stomach started to turn. Evan had been so excited at the thought of eloping with her in Vegas. It had been a long time since Harvey had seen his partner so happy. Things were just starting to go Evan’s way. His last thoughts were even of her. “Tell Cass I’ll see her at the alter,” he had whispered just before he had blacked out. Harvey’s eyes closed tightly against the memory, then shoved his fingers into the thick mass of curls at his brow in an effort to tame the torrid emotions before they overwhelmed him again. He knew that no one blamed him for Evans death. No one, that is, except himself. Harvey’s knees nearly buckled beneath him when the first report from the twenty-one gun salute sounded. He could feel the shots pounding against his chest and he wanted to cry out for it to stop. Haunting images that had tortured him into sleepless nights flashed before his eyes with each round. The gunshot echoing through the stainless steel kitchen. Evan stumbling into his arms. The blood wouldn’t stop. No matter how hard he pressed, it just wouldn’t stop. As the final report sounded, he rubbed at his face with shaking hands. Then there was silence. A lone bugler began the solemn wails of Taps and Harvey drew a deep breath. The day is done. He felt consoling hands patting against his shoulder, but the mumbled words of sympathy were lost on him. As the crowd slowly disassembled, he stood transfixed. Cassidy clutched the flag to her chest with one hand and brought a single white rose to her lips with the other for a gentle kiss. Harvey watched as she laid the rose across the coffin, then she straightened again. It wasn’t until she removed her dark glasses that he realized she was looking at him. His breath caught in his throat as he waited for the shouting to begin. Why weren’t you there? Why didn’t you save him? Why wasn’t it you who died? But the accusatory words never came. Instead, she gave him a trembling smile, then slipped her glasses back into place before walking off. Harvey stuffed his hands deep into his pockets as he walked slowly toward the casket. His throat burned with unshed tears. He knew when he turned away, it would all be over, but he lingered. Somehow he couldn’t leave his partner’s side. This wasn’t how it was suppose to be. “I’m going to miss you bro,” he said with a strained smile as he shifted uncomfortably. Slowly he pulled out his hand to gaze one last time at the keepsake he would be leaving with his partner. Harvey laughed self-consciously at the memory it brought, then he pressed it against the lid of the coffin. Knowing that there was no way he could manage another word, he slowly turned away and walked back to his car. Nestled against the pure white rose that Cassidy had left was a badly tattered Grateful Dead armband. |
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| This is for all of you who felt like you were left out in the cold when saying good-bye to Evan. |