To the Bones
o5: Yellow Roses
Brendon stayed long after the funeral had ended, sitting beside the new gravestone right next to where he would be someday, a long time from now.
There were flowers everywhere. His were the yellow roses. Ryan had always loved yellow roses. There had been balloons, but Brendon had already sent those to Ryan’s new home in the sky. His fingers slowly traced the words carved into the stone.
Ryan Ross
1986-2006
Where angels fly.
He had picked the words, the gravesite, the songs, the invitations, the casket. His mother had helped when needed, but it was mostly him. He knew Ryan best. He knew what was right for the arrangements.
Not that anything was right about this.
Ryan’s mother had show up. Brendon hadn’t expected that, or the quick hug she had given him, tears shining in her eyes. Guilt.
He had recognize her immediately despite never having even seen a photograph. Her and Ryan looked exactly the same. He wondered if she had told her husband the truth about why she needed to go to Vegas.
He wondered if Ryan had laughed in Heaven. He always hated his mother. Well, perhaps not always.
Brendon’s cell phone rang when it started to get dark, but he didn’t answer it. He knew it was his mother calling to check on him.
Taking a shaky breath, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against the smooth surface of the gravestone. “Are you happy up there?” he asked. “Are they treating you all right? There aren’t any calories in Heaven. You should be happy up there. And I’ll see you when I get there. I promise. There’s no one for me but you.”
When Brendon got home he hid in his mother’s arms, crying over everything he’d lost, the boy he hadn’t been able to save. “I tried, Momma.” he whispered.
She stroked her youngest son’s hair, hushing him quietly. “I know, baby, I know. You did everything you could.”
“I should have tried harder. I could have saved him.”
“Shhh, baby, no. It doesn’t work that way.” She sat him up and wiped at his cheeks, pulling a tissue from the box beside the couch. “Blow.” she said gently, holding it up to his nose. “You loved him. And he knew that.”
“But it wasn’t enough.”
“Sometimes people can’t be fixed, baby. Sometimes we just have to let them know we care, that we love them. They can find comfort in that.”
He nodded shakily before he started crying again. “Will it be okay someday?” he asked.
She nodded, kissing the top of his head. “Someday you two will be very happy in Heaven, baby. Everything you both deserved here, you’ll get there. I promise.”
Brendon only went back to their apartment to pack, put their belongings into boxes, and move back home. Crying at night, praying to God, visiting Ryan’s gravestone to tell him about everything.
Ana had died with Ryan. But Ryan wasn’t waiting for her acceptance anymore. He was waiting for Brendon.
If everything is imperfect in this imperfect world, love is most perfect in its perfect imperfection.
There were flowers everywhere. His were the yellow roses. Ryan had always loved yellow roses. There had been balloons, but Brendon had already sent those to Ryan’s new home in the sky. His fingers slowly traced the words carved into the stone.
Ryan Ross
1986-2006
Where angels fly.
He had picked the words, the gravesite, the songs, the invitations, the casket. His mother had helped when needed, but it was mostly him. He knew Ryan best. He knew what was right for the arrangements.
Not that anything was right about this.
Ryan’s mother had show up. Brendon hadn’t expected that, or the quick hug she had given him, tears shining in her eyes. Guilt.
He had recognize her immediately despite never having even seen a photograph. Her and Ryan looked exactly the same. He wondered if she had told her husband the truth about why she needed to go to Vegas.
He wondered if Ryan had laughed in Heaven. He always hated his mother. Well, perhaps not always.
Brendon’s cell phone rang when it started to get dark, but he didn’t answer it. He knew it was his mother calling to check on him.
Taking a shaky breath, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against the smooth surface of the gravestone. “Are you happy up there?” he asked. “Are they treating you all right? There aren’t any calories in Heaven. You should be happy up there. And I’ll see you when I get there. I promise. There’s no one for me but you.”
When Brendon got home he hid in his mother’s arms, crying over everything he’d lost, the boy he hadn’t been able to save. “I tried, Momma.” he whispered.
She stroked her youngest son’s hair, hushing him quietly. “I know, baby, I know. You did everything you could.”
“I should have tried harder. I could have saved him.”
“Shhh, baby, no. It doesn’t work that way.” She sat him up and wiped at his cheeks, pulling a tissue from the box beside the couch. “Blow.” she said gently, holding it up to his nose. “You loved him. And he knew that.”
“But it wasn’t enough.”
“Sometimes people can’t be fixed, baby. Sometimes we just have to let them know we care, that we love them. They can find comfort in that.”
He nodded shakily before he started crying again. “Will it be okay someday?” he asked.
She nodded, kissing the top of his head. “Someday you two will be very happy in Heaven, baby. Everything you both deserved here, you’ll get there. I promise.”
Brendon only went back to their apartment to pack, put their belongings into boxes, and move back home. Crying at night, praying to God, visiting Ryan’s gravestone to tell him about everything.
Ana had died with Ryan. But Ryan wasn’t waiting for her acceptance anymore. He was waiting for Brendon.
If everything is imperfect in this imperfect world, love is most perfect in its perfect imperfection.
♠ ♠ ♠
If you haven't commented yet, I'd really appreciate it if you'd comment now considering it's the end and everything. Thank you.Thanks to Kor for beta-ing.
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