When life gives you love

Chapter 1

The room was cold, dead cold.
A dead body lay across the room, the lifeless shell of a once great man. tears fell to the ground from all who were present, for the reason they had gathered was to mourn the death of Jedediah Fitzgerald.

Business associates, family members, some people he never knew but were influenced by his life. All gathered by his side for a climatic end.

All tears, no joy, as was usually customary for a funeral. But out of the eyes of Derrick, not a single drop fell, was he bitter towards his departed father? Did he have some hidden hatred towards him?

No.

He shed no tears for he was a man, a man who now owned everything his father had worked for, an honorable man who knew the responsibility he now possessed. So of course he could not cry, for it would be seen as a blight on his father's memory, a sign of weakness in his family, and that simply would not do!

'All these people... They expect me to be him... No one could every be him, I'm half the man he was!'

Derrick thought to himself.

'But in his memory I will do him the respect he deserves.'

His face was as stone, hardened by determination. He stared at the creature that had once been his father. The corpse of the man from which he had been raised.

One by one, the multitude of attendants walked towards the ghostly being, saying their last goodbyes, and wishing their best to his son.

He felt as though he was now the cornerstone of a great building, with every brick lying upon his shoulders, as though he could collapse at any given minute. But he knew he must stay strong, for his father's sake.

And so he would.

More and more people flooded through as if they were the humblest of peasants, paying homage to their fallen King, albeit the notion of funerals was a sweet one, the thought of bearing the glances of all who passed struck Derrick to his core. He had to get out, but wouldn't it be dishonorable to leave his father's side?

He cared not, he shook a last hand and hugged a last neck before making his brief escape.
Though they were there to mourn the loss of one man, it felt to Derrick that they were all dead, a pilgrimage of ghastly beings passing through to the world beyond and ferrying his father with them.

He quickly walked out the door of the room which belonged to the funeral home, and down a short hall into the men's washroom.

He stopped his advance by the first sink he came to, placing a hand on either side, and staring into the white bowl.

"Why?"

He asks aloud, wether it be to himself, or to a God who he believes holds answers that he lacks.

He slowly turns the faucet handle and opens a flood gate into the porcelain bowl. The water spirals round and round, as he stares into its depths, hoping to find the answer he is looking for.

He cups his hands and catches the falling water, as a basin catches rain in a torrential storm.

In his hands, a face looks back at him, a face very familiar, yet very alien. It is the face of a man who lost something great but is afraid to show his true nature.

He lifts his hands and the two faces touch and merge into one, the cold water a welcome refreshment to him.

'Be strong.'

A thought enters his mind

'It's what he would have wanted.'

He knew, of course, that this was true, but he knew not how long he could last. But he had to last, and so he would.

Wiping his hands and face, he returned to the crowded funeral room from which he had came, nodding to several newcomers along the way back to his designated stand.

The gauntlet resumed, he knew it would only last an hour or two more at most, but the thought crippled him.

Be Strong.