By
Lin P.
The soft notes from the piano drifted throughout the crowded church. In sorrow and quiet respect the people listened to the sad and beautiful piece. In front of them, at the end of the long, wide aisle, then up a few steps, was Terry's coffin. It was draped in flowers. Red roses, white lilies and peach orchids. Yellow daisies. Sprays of green ferns and blue Forget-Me-Nots. They covered the top and overflowed down the sides to the floor where many more arrangements surrounded it.
In somber, dark suits, Starsky and Hutch sat side by side. They were in the front pew with Terry's family, amid the sniffles and quiet crying. Though tears filled Starsky's eyes from time to time, he strained to keep his emotions in control. Only once or twice did he raise a hand to brush away an escaped tear. But there was a pain in his chest that no one else could see. It felt like a hard knot, a clenched fist where his heart should be. It ached. It ached him so much that yesterday he'd even taken aspirin to
try and ease its crush. Though he knew it wouldn't help.
The song finished. Someone near the back coughed. Now it was Hutch's turn to go up and say a few words. Without looking at Starsky, he reached over and squeezed his partner's arm before rising. Then he made his way up to the pulpit.
When he took his place in front of the sea of faces he pulled a sheet of paper out of his suit pocket. He unfolded it and nervously cleared his throat. His voice was soft but true as he began.
"What is dying? A ship sails and I stand watching till she fades on the horizon. And someone at my side says, 'She is gone.'... Gone where?"
He looked up, searching for Starsky, and their eyes met. After a few seconds Hutch continued though he didn't look down to his sheet again. Their eyes remained locked as he recited the rest.
"Gone from my sight, that's all; she is just as large as when I saw her....the diminished size and total loss of sight is in me, not in her. And just at that moment when someone at my side says, 'She is gone', there are others who are watching her coming and their voices take up a glad shout 'There she comes'..... and that is dying."
His eyes were brilliant as they smiled feebly down to his friend.
He folded up his paper, slipped it back into his pocket and made his way back to his seat.
As he settled on the hard bench again, Starsky reached for his hand and clasped it. The priest started to speak and Starsky looked over again to Terry's coffin with the colors spilling over and all around it. He squeezed the hand in his gratefully. For even though the pain was still in his chest it had eased, he could feel, and become more bearable.
The End
*The 'parable' is not mine, but I don't know the author.