[present tense]

2002.02.14: 1000 oceans

My grandfather sits slumped in a pew. My aunt and uncle come around to either side of him and tenderly lift him to his feet. With his children supporting him at each shoulder, he shuffles towards the casket.

His hands are trembling. Now his arms are too. His legs fail to carry any of his weight, but his children manage to propell him forward. He finally has a clear view of her face.

The sobs begin.

Deep heaving sobs which consume his body in convulsions. I wonder if he could possibly be getting enough oxygen. My aunt and uncle cannot move him further. They can hardly keep him from collapsing to the ground.

He looks at her and weeps.

After a minute or so, his children manage to turn him back around; manage to shuffle him back to the pew. All of his loved ones surround him to give him comfort. All except the one he loves the most. She lies cold, unmoved by his tears, only 10 feet away.

The weeping continues.

I wonder "How can he possibly bear it?" They have been married for 67 years. They have been partners, companions, lovers for two-thirds of a century. He will not see her again. "How can he possibly bear it?"

The tears refuse to cease.

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