Random? I think not! Liz's Story

My husband said I should share this story I wrote last week.  Hope you enjoy.

Liz was sitting at her usual table with 6 girlfriends, looking at the martini in front of her.  Several were talking about work of the day, one looked ready to fall asleep at any minute, and Liz, well Liz was just lost in thought.

“Liz?  Earth to Liz?” A friend’s voice brought her back to the present.

Looking up from her drink, Liz finally focused on her friend Denise. “I’m sorry, I just zoned out for a minute.”

Denise picked up her drink. “You sure did.  You looked like you were ready to cry.  Are you OK?”

Looking back at her drink, Liz replied.  “I don’t know.  All of a sudden I feel sad.  Like really sad, I don’t know why.  Just sad.”

Denise put her arm around her friend.  “It’s OK, that’s just a sign of menopause.  It goes away, I promise.”

Liz looked to her friend.  “I’m a little young for menopause.  I mean I’m only 45.”

Denise shrugged.  “You never know.  I once heard of a girl who went into menopause at 21.  She had to go on drugs and shit and was never right in the head after.  One of the symptoms is being sad, then you get really pissed off and want to kill someone.  Not that I would know, I’m only 43.  But I have wanted to kill a few people lately.”

Liz looked at her friend for a few minutes, then back down to her drink.  “I just feel melancholy right now.  I feel like I missed something today, something important, I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Maybe you are realizing everything with Tom is finalized.  It is time to move on and you’re missing the old you.”  Denise tried.

Liz thought about that.  “No, Tom and I were not meant to be, breaking up was a natural thing for us.  We had already gotten to that point where we were living apart, so strange as it sounds, this was the next logical step.  It’s not that.  I know it is something else.  I just feel like I am mourning something.”

Denise was quiet.  “Either way a drink will make you feel better, so drink up!”

Liz took another sip of her drink, searching through her mind for a cause.  She walked through every part of her day, trying to pinpoint the moment when the feeling of sadness engulfed her, not finding a specific event.  It was like one moment she was fine, then the next she felt like crying.  She took another sip of her martini, watching her friends making jokes, laughing, some picking up a guy watching them from the bar, others ordering a second round.  She felt alone in the crowd, she felt different, something was talking to her.

She fingered the condensation collecting around the glass, reaching into her soul, letting the sadness take her.  It wasn’t that doom type of feeling, it wasn’t that she wanted to crawl into a ball and sob, it was just an ache, like that of a slight headache, irritating but completely manageable.  She watched her friends again.  “I don’t want to be here.  I want to leave.”

Getting up, pushing the drink away, Liz said.  “I’m going to go for a walk.  I’ve got a bit of a headache and think the fresh air will make me feel better.”

Denise looked over to her friend, the rest of the table so deep into conversation they didn’t notice her leaving.  “Are you sure you are OK?  Are you walking down to see Tom?”

Liz frowned, was that where she was going?  Something inside of her said, “No.  Time to go.”  Looking back to her friend, she replied.  “No, I’m just going for a walk.  I may stop and check on you on my way back.”

Denise pulled Liz’s martini over.  “OK, well be careful out there, there are all kinds of thieves and low-life’s out there.”  She took a sip of Liz’s martini.  “Well some would consider people drinking in bars low-life’s also, oh well. It’s a little watered down but still tastes good, don’t want it to go to waste!”

Liz left the bar laughing, heading down Main Street, no real direction in mind.  She enjoyed the cool evening air, thinking it was making her feel better, her headache was moving on.  Maybe she needed to move on from something, perhaps that was the feeling running through her.  She walked down the street, not really connecting with anyone that passed her, lost in her own thoughts.

Passing by a small brick church, Liz took a few more steps before stopping.  She felt that lingering sadness pass her once again, looking at the church.  It was an old building, made out of cinder blocks, a small cross sitting at the top of a modest steeple.  The building painted white with a large wooden red front door, old black iron hinges, along with iron strips holding the pieces of wood together.  Liz stood at the bottom of the marble steps looking at the building.

“Am I feeling the need to go to church?  Is this what I am missing?”  She said to the damp night air.  “Maybe I just need to sit quietly there for a few minutes.”

Her footsteps were light on the marble steps, the door heavy pulling open slowly.  The inside of the church was a deep oak, the walls paneled, different stages of the cross pictured along the side walls, depicting Jesus’ journey.  The floor was slate tile, the pews in the church a dark oak, red vinyl padding on the kneelers, small prayer companions sitting in little bins in front of each seat.  The altar of the church was deep oak, purple silk coverings draping over it, white candles burning on either side.

Liz stepped in, closing the door behind her, slipping into the last pew of the church, unsure if she should kneel or sit.  Sitting back quietly, picking up the prayer book, opening it to a random page, she read through the prayer for the Dead.

“We commend into thy mercy all other thy servants, which are departed hence from us with the sigh of faith and now do rest in the sleep of peace: grant unto them, we beseech thee, thy mercy and everlasting peace.”

The words running through her, Liz felt the sadness once again.

“I’m sorry are you here for the deceased?”  The voice was masculine.

Liz turned, a priest, dressed in purple and white, his hands holding onto the mantle staring at her.  He was young, perhaps around her age, blonde hair and bright blue eyes with even white teeth smiling at her.  He was thin, the flowing robes not hiding the fact, Liz looking down to his black shoes, around the church, not sure what to say.  Her breath caught, noticing the very sparse coffin sitting in front of the altar.

It was a simple coffin, made of wood, not the sleek chrome and mahogany she remembered when her grandfather passed away.  Two purple candles sat on either side, their fire glowing.  Liz was glad the lid was shut, she really wasn’t sure what she’d do, getting caught by a priest, realizing there’s a dead body in the church.

“I’m well, not really here, I was just walking down the street.”  Liz stammered.

“You are not a relative of Nottingham?”  The priest asked looking at her.

“Not really.” Liz almost whispered.

“Then are you a friend?”  The priest asked.

Liz looked around the empty church, where was everyone.  She felt that sadness again.  “OK, I guess you could say I am here paying my respects.”  She felt guilty with that statement,  but with an empty church, she figured the guy probably needed a friend.  “He will be missed.”

The priest looked at her strangely.  “This is the funeral for Vera Nottingham?”

Liz almost fell out of the pew.  “Oh, I am sorry.  I was just stopping by paying my respects.”  Getting up, figuring a quick getaway was in order.

Before she could get to the back door, the priest stood in her way, Liz looking back at the coffin hoping as she turned it wasn’t opening, like some horror movie.  “I am sure Ms. Nottingham appreciates you coming.  Don’t forget to sign the guest book.” The priest replied.

He ushered Liz over to small wooden table holding a small guest book.  Liz picked up the pen opening it, feeling sadness run through her noticing not a single name in the book.  She signed her name neatly to the book.

The priest closed the book.  “We are 30 minutes over due, come up and we will hold a short service.  The funeral home has been trying to remove her from the church for the last fifteen minutes.”  He stood behind her, pushing her up to the altar and the casket.  Liz looked around for a camera or something, her mind saying this cannot be happening.

Standing in front of the casket, watching the priest open the Book of Common Prayer, Liz bowed her head listening to him say a few prayers, including the one she read in the pew.  In her mind, she said her own type of prayer.

I’m sorry.  I know that I am not supposed to be here.

But, I just want you to know that you had a friend at your funeral.  You were real.

And even if no one else shows up tonight, I believe you will find love and peace on the other side.

She looked up, the priest quiet staring at her.  Liz wondered what she missed.

“Amen.” He said again quietly.

Bowing her head, Liz whispered.  “Amen.”

Walking through a side door, two men in black, took the silk adornments off of the casket before rolling it through the same door and out of sight.  Walking with Liz to the back door, the priest stopped, shaking her hand.

“Thank you for attending Ms. Nottingham’s funeral.  I was afraid no one would show up.”  He said with a small smile.

Liz looked at him.  “Sure, I’m glad she had a friend.”

The priest looked around the quiet, lonely church.  “You are a good friend.”

Feeling guilty, Liz shook his hand, opening the large wooden door.  

“Oh, and by the way.” His voice echoed through the church.

Liz turned.

He smiled at her.  “You know that some say when a person dies and no one will miss them, mourning is assigned to a random human.  This is why sometimes you just feel sad.”

Liz’s mouth dropped, her heart sped up, her face felt on fire.

“Have a nice evening.”  The priest said before turning and walking down the empty church, his footsteps echoing in her mind.  Liz walked out the door, headache gone, heart feeling lighter, not minding the light rain falling making her way home,