THE VISIT

POV…1^st person

I have to visit my friend. Yes, have to. I wanted to visit yesterday and catch up and laugh with him and do what we always do. I wanted to have a nice lunch and then lounge at the restaurant with a cup of coffee and remember fun times or discuss what each of us is currently writing or maybe even talk about his successful novel. I loved to hear how excited he was to finish the final edit. How he told the publisher that he had just written the best book they would ever peruse and possibly the best book ever written. He was sure his bullshit was what made them read his sample.

Instead, I am visiting my friend at the funeral home. As I enter, I see smiling faces and groups of people, some I know, some I do not. His children are near the entrance so I walk directly to them. I really want to speak, but I have no words. I hug each of them and walk to the casket. I pray and I make him a promise. The pain in my heart is unbearable and I need to go. The lightness in this room in inappropriate for my state of loss.

Alone, walking to the car I keep myself together. Once inside, the dam breaks and I am engulfed in my grief and holding my own face with a tissue covering my hands, I simply weep. The drive home is lonely and I remember so much. I am grateful he is not in pain and not lingering on life support.

His time is up and he is heading to his reward. Based on my feelings for him and my knowledge of his life, he is going to be very pleased with his eternity. He deserves all the goodness heaven can offer. He was a good friend and my writing for publication is all because he told me that I was good enough. I believed him. I miss him.

POV…3^rd person

It’s over. His pain is gone and she can say goodbye with a heavy heart. Jo had anticipated a much longer time with her friend, but the Lord had other plans. Ed’s failing heart had simply worn out. He had been called home and all that remained for Jo was to pay her respects and then figure out how to be a writer without her muse. She headed for the funeral home alone.

Walking into the funeral parlor she was overcome by the number of people who seemed not to be heart-broken. They were smiling and shaking hands. She was not ready for this she wasn’t ready to lose him and everyone seemed to have let him go. Didn’t they know what she knew? Didn’t they know she needed him in her life? Didn’t they care?

She wasn’t able to smile at his children. She hugged them and said nothing. She prayed for his soul, though she knew he was already home.

The tears on her cheeks were for her loss, not his. She lowered her head, signed the guest book and walked alone back to her car. Once inside, she let the tears and the heartbreak take over. She completely broke down and gave in to the grief that would be with her for some time.

Her friend, her mentor and her muse had left her to carry on without his constant support and encouragement. He left her with the confidence to continue and she left his lifeless body with a promise to honor him by never forgetting that she was good enough.

Jo