Silence.

The rain hammered relentlessly onto the ground below, worn and muddy from the abundance of bodies traipsing over it that day. The sky was grey and bleak, and although there wasn't a cloud in sight, to expect sun at all was an almost laughable affair. The air felt heavy, and it seemed to suck every ounce of happiness that anyone might have out of them. It brought an almost suffocating feeling of misery upon everyone who had not yet had their spirit drawn from them.

Despite the weather and a few muffled sobs, everything was silent. All around me, sniffles could be heard, clumsy footsteps, splashes as they walked wearily through the small puddles that were gathered. But in my mind, there wasn't a sound to be heard. Everything was silent. Too silent. I wanted to shout, to scream, to do anything to break this awful silence. I couldn't, though. I wouldn't be the disrespectful yob to disrupt a funeral. But everything about this was wrong to me. I know he wouldn't want this. He'd want the people to be joyful and exuberant, shouting loud messages of celebration for his life. Not teary and miserable. Who was I to change anything, though?

Beside me, I heard the mother of the poor deceased soul sniffle as she brought a handkerchief to her eye, wiping away the tears that had fallen lightly on her cheek. A young fellow rushed over immediately, putting an arm round her shoulder and spouting reassuring words. He was kind and generous, but it was only to be expected. I turned away from them, not wishing to observe any longer. It was, of course, a heartwarming sight; a young man comforting a devastated mother. However, it did nothing for my state of mind. I didn't want to be here, but somehow, I did. I wanted to be here, but I wanted to be alone. I wanted to say a proper farewell.

A few strangers approached me, gripping my hand tightly and telling me that they were sorry for my loss. Some of them were skeptical, clearly wondering what I was doing here in the first place. None of them voiced their opinions, however. I could still feel their gazes burning into me, yet it didn't affect me. I could hear their mumbled apologies, but still, to me, there was silence.

I hung about for a few hours, waiting for the crowd that had attended to leave. Eventually, they all filed out, leaving just me and his close relatives. I offered my condolences to the family solemnly, and they did the same in return, although it was unlikely they meant it. I could understand their grief, having their eldest son wrenched from them at such a young age, but didn't they understand the pain I was in? This was my friend, my closest friend, my lover, and as often as the term is batted about nowadays, I truly believe he was my soulmate. True love is rare, and incredibly hard to find, but I was fortunate enough to have it, if only for a brief few years.

His family soon left, his mother leading, the tears still gleaming in her eyes. At last, I was alone. I sat crosslegged on the newly placed earth, and ran my fingers gently across the great marble headstone in front of me.

Ian Watkins
30/07/77 - 04/03/05

It was basic, bland, a name, a date of birth and a date of death, but it felt right. He could be vain when he wanted, oh, yes, very self-centred, but he wouldn't want anything flashy printed on a stone to sum up his personality. Those who knew him would know what he was like, and those who didn't had missed out. Anyone can read a couple of words from a stone and say they understood what sort of person he was, but only those who knew him could say that with full honesty.

I sighed, the crisp air turning my breath into a small cloud. I wasn't sure of what to say. Goodbyes were never my strong point. Instead, I simply sat in silence, remembering times when we'd sit together in the evenings, not speaking a word, just being content in the other's company. In a way, it said more than words ever could. I could talk for hours and still say nothing of great meaning, but the memories were still fresh in my mind, and they still meant a great deal to me.

I sighed once again, biting my lip as I contemplated speaking at all.

I didn't say much. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm sorry. It should be me lying there, with you free to continue living your life. It was cut far too short, and I'm sorry."

At that point, I allowed the tears I'd been so desperately holding back to flow freely down my face.

"I'm sorry," I choked. "I really am. I miss you, Ian. I love you."

And I left it at that. I didn't make any attempt to move, but I said nothing further. That was it. I couldn't bear to say anything else. And with that, there was silence. And this time, it was welcomed.