HEARTLESS When a Heartless Feels

I sat in the front pew, clutching my two-year-old son who was perched on my lap. I sat staring numbly at the casket containing the body of the man who had been my lover, my best friend and the father of my young son.

Jack Stevenson

The simple service had ended. The small church with its well-worn wooden pews was half deserted. The voice of the pastor, the murmur of the other members of the congregation seemed to fade into the background, a droning sound I was dimly aware of. My eyes were fixed on the casket, a simple wooden one, in which the body of my beloved partner of the past three years, Jack Stevenson, lay. He lay motionless, a serene expression on his face. The way he used to look when he was sleeping beside me.

Only, now he was too far away from me in spirit. Too far away to open his blue eyes and gaze at me in his gentle manner, the love shining in his eyes as he gathered me in his arms.

I shuddered, trying not to sob.

I felt so utterly alone.

***

We had never gotten married.

We had never felt the need for it. He had almost been forty years of age when I met him and I had just turned nineteen. I know, it made my parents question my decision too, just as I am sure you must be doing.

But we had been so happy, so lost in each other; there had been no need for a certificate or a ceremony to make it legal and prove a point to the world. The difference in our ages was something I never thought of, I simply loved Jack with all my heart, he of the gentle blue eyes, the caring nature…the father of my son.

We had not been churchgoers- my upbringing was totally different and Jack was not a person who believed in such things either.

The pastor had been apologetic and a little annoyed with me, when I had gone along with Joe Seaton, my late partner’s best friend, to meet the pastor for a funeral service. Joe had wanted it for Jack Jr. and I had gone along, too numb to protest.

The old pastor, Father Clark had not been too happy to see me; after all, we were not formally man and wife in the eyes of the Church. But in some part of my mind, I had also wanted my Jack to have a respectful burial. And even the overwhelming displeasure emanating from Father Williams had not put me off.

As I sat there now, forlorn and alone on the hard wooden seat in the unfamiliar church, I was aware that the handful of people who had turned up at the church this morning had only arrived to get a look at me or to pass snide remarks.

I shivered and my son, Jack Jr. looked up at me, his big blue eyes fearful.

I could feel the malevolent gazes of the people around me as I sat huddled into myself, most of them had come for another reason.

Of course, to watch the fun when his ex-wife, Andrea Miller-Smythe turned up as she planned to do,