Kevin Christopher Canavan

The Passing.

21st January 2021 The oul man passed four days ago. The on lookers, both friends and family lined either side of the streets. Crows on a telephone wire. The smooth pined pressed firmly down against six shoulders, each one holding the other up with his own emptiness. I watched those who gathered around bowed their head in respect. The air hung moist with dew, and the frost speckled the tarmacked pavements which created a shimmer in the low light of the morning. He would’ve been proud of us, as we always were of him. Such a grafter. Never workshy or lazy. Four o’clock in the morning, up and out, back for tea at six. That was always the way of it. God, I have to laugh, if he could see us now, he would be wondering what had gotten us all down. The black masses of black suits, black ties and black moods, the old black dog was surely mixing through the crowd. But he’d still be smiling. The long walk began from the house to the chapel began; a chorus of marching feet met the road with matching rhythm. We wept silently, held our heads up high and tried to make you proud. Were you proud of how we stood? Shoulder to shoulder, holding one another up with the chains of mutual grief. The slow rolling sound of the wet tires on the black chapel tarmac seemed to be magnified tenfold in the silence as we approached the station from which we would accompany you on your last journey. The marble floors, high stone walls and wooden pews seemed daunting. I whispered to ma, “Are you okay”, she squeezed my hand and nodded, a pillar of strength in this time of grief. And we never appreciated that enough. The chorus of beautiful voices serenaded the ceremony and ushered us into a new way of life. Not one which we wished to enter, but the hand was dealt, as they sang, we walked the aisle a final time we came to terms. The service was beautiful, everything was just as he would have liked it. The final walk seemed like a dream, we moved as if we were attempting to walk under water. We knew what was coming, yet we did not wish to see it. His body was bore down, and as the brass handled pine was passed from flesh to earth, we felt a sense of ease.