Today a year ago, was the last time we saw Andrew. Ever.
Lying in his casket, his face intact, he looked as handsome in death as he had in life.
In his casket, Andrew looked like a Fallen Knight of old.
The line of people who had come to see him was never-ending. For the entire duration of the “viewing,” as it is called, there were people in line to come and say goodbye to Andrew.
As many of his friends as were able to come home from University, did.
So many of them, as they came by, reminded me of the play-dates, the birthday parties, the car pooling…
Girls, in tears, stopped by his coffin, seemingly unable to take their eyes off him and move on.
Andrew, you idiot, I found myself thinking, you could have had any of them, you could have had your pick.
Florentina and I took turns sitting by him, gently stroking his head, his hair as lustrous and beautiful as it ever was. His hands, folded across his tummy, weren’t that different from the hands of the little boy I had held on to, for many years.
Strangely, though cold, his hands were still soft and malleable, A gift from God, I thought.
At times, I fancied, I was certain, I saw him smile, almost imperceptibly, but I saw him smile.
When it was time to go, we left him with one of Florentina’s Teddy Bears to keep him company.
Turning around before leaving the funeral home, I got my last look of my son.
The following day it would be a sealed casket and then… no more