Chapter Four: River Mourning

 

The daunting sky loomed overhead, overcast with dark-gray, almost black, cumulonimbus clouds. Though no rain was falling, the air was dense and oppressive, saturated with a suffocating humidity. The wind swept past in strong gusts. Cloudy and Star, clad in black, lacy shawls and veils, slowly followed their mother, dressed in similar attire, to the burial ground where Tilry was to be put to rest. Cloudy felt very vexatious about stepping onto land where a dead body was to lie in the ground. Her heart tightened with an inexplicable ache; dread befell her. She wasn’t at all ready for this, and she knew it. She was getting a very bad feeling about this natural burial she was to attend.

At last, they reached the burial plot—a piece of land owned by a woman named Donya Herder—and walked over to where a group of mourners were clustered together, their heads bowed or lifted upward to the sky as if in worship. Cloudy noted that most wore black just as she did—the women veils or shawls and the men cloaks or tuxedos. The garments blended into the shadowed landscape of sorrow and heaviness.

Showerstorm and Cloudy’s brothers were already there, waiting for the women. The boys were dressed in black cloaks. Their glum faces reflected the blackness of the day as they stared at the girls. Cloudy and Star stared back at them, a dull pallor of sadness mirroring their bleak thoughts. Springtime and Showerstorm cast distressed glances at each other, wondering if perhaps this dolorous atmosphere would be too much for their children. “Should we have brought them?” Springtime worriedly murmured.

“If they are going to learn the emotionally hard way what death truly feels like both physically and mentally, now is the time,” Showerstorm firmly replied. “Better now than later. They’ll be able to cope with it better when they’re older.”

Cloudy wasn’t paying any attention to her parents’ hushed conversation. Her eyes were roaming over the field, hunting for a particular person she really wanted to see and comfort but knew he probably wouldn’t be present. To her amazement, he was at hand—Sir Meta Knight.

“There he is,” Cloudy said softly.

Sniper followed his sister’s gaze and spotted the knight. “Meta Knight is here, huh?” His voice was unusually gentle, which struck Cloudy as offbeat. “I feel sorry for him. He lost his son-in-law at such a young age.”

“Twenty-one years,” Cloudy cited. “How horrible to die so young. I wouldn’t want to die in the prime of my life.”

“Me, neither,” Sniper said with a shiver. “Ooh, I get goosebumps just thinking about it!”

Cloudy’s attention was directed back toward Meta Knight. He was standing beside Liloy, his head down. Even from a distance, she could tell he was crying. Liloy was holding his hand, speaking comfortingly and quietly to him, but it didn’t seem to soothe him any. The Malamute’s ears withered and her face fell; she stared at the wet grass. She didn’t know what to do; she felt lost and distant, as if in a dream.

This isn’t fair, she bitterly thought. Tilry shouldn’t have died! Not when Liloy is this close to her time! How could he leave her behind. . .and his child? His son or daughter? What about the baby he prayed to see? How can Liloy bring him up without her husband to be a dad to the baby, to love, care, play with? She scuffed her paw in the wet earth, feeling virulence rise in her. I can’t do this. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to attend this funeral—ever! Instantly she stopped herself, perplexed. Tilry was the one whom she was supposed to be paying her respects to! How then could she think of herself more than the funeral of one who had loved her and prayed for all, no matter his circumstances? Am I just being selfish or are my motivations activated for a different reason? she pondered, thinkng hard about her introspection.

Reverend Helman, the dignified clergyman who was to lead the service at the gravesite, sauntered to the front of the crowd and assumed his place next to the grave. “Let us commence with the opening prayer,” he said formally but solemnly.

As the minister prayed, Cloudy shifted from foot in foot in discomfort of the funeral and the itchy veil she wore. Scazzarda, standing a little ways away from her son and granddaughter, a diaphanous veil of black draped over her blond hair and across her forehead, had her head bowed in prayer. Tears streaked her face. Cloudy, fear shooting through her, looked away from the woman and to the dismal, lowering sky, the clouds gray, swirling masses.

“So, our gracious Heavenly Father,” the minister concluded, “as we assemble to honor our friend Tilry, permeate this abode with Your comforting and beautiful ubiety. Help us through this span of mourning and bereavement of a life well-lived for Your glory alone. In Your holy, majestic Name we pray, amen.”

“Amen,” the congregation echoed, raising their heads.

Reverend Helman then proceeded with the Scripture reading of several key passages on death and resurrection, such as Psalm 23, John 14:1-3, 1 Thessalonians 4:13-14, Job 19:25-27, and a few other portions from the Bible. Cloudy heard everything the preacher read, but didn’t truly let the full meaning of the promise of life after death sink into her heart. She was too grieved about Tilry and worried about Meta Knight to truly listen and accept God’s assurance of seeing Him again if we have faith.

After the Scripture reading was concluded, there was a terse respite. Then Scazzarda softly began to sing a beloved hymn Cloudy had never heard before: “How Great Thou Art.”

 

“Oh Lord, my God,
When I, in awesome wonder
Consider all the worlds Thy hands have made;
I see the stars,
I hear the rolling thunder;
Thy power throughout the universe displayed.

Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee,
How great Thou art, how great Thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee,
How great Thou art, how great Thou art!”

 

Cloudy barely auscultated the words of the comely oratorio; she was so lost in her thoughts about Tilry and his painful death. The clergyman led them in a few more hymns, such as “It Is Well With My Soul,” “Abide With Me,” and “The Strife is O’er.” But later, Cloudy confessed she didn’t recall a word of the songs. Her mind was on one person—Tilry.

Liloy was chosen to deliver the eulogy. Cloudy knew she was in no condition to speak tribute, judging from her trembling form and shaky walk, but Cloudy admired the girl’s spunk and spirit to stand up and say what needed to be said in honor of one who was so passionate about serving God and loving others.

“Friends,” she began solemnly, “we are gathered here today in order to celebrate our deceased friend, Tilry Stellarum, who just a few days ago went to his reward.

“My name is Liloy, and I am the wife of Tilry Stellarum. I thank everyone for attending this funeral to celebrate the life of one very special to us all. Tilry was a kind, gentle soul with a prioritized need for others. He helped those in distress, comforted those who were sad or grieving, and served God with all his heart. He was born in Spring Breeze and dedicated his life to humbly, faithfully show God’s glory and light to a dark world.”

Liloy smiled. “One of the most cherished memories locked deep in my heart is when I was about five years old. He helped and comforted me after I fell out of a tree and badly injured myself. He rode with me in the back of the ambulance to  the hospital and kept me company whenever I became lonely by myself in my room. That special moment captured what he was truly like and who he truly was.

“Tilry touched so many lives, and his spirit will forever live on in our hearts, but especially in mine. We will always commemorate his thoughtful, genuine spirit of gentleness and self-control and his love and joy, even in trials.

“Very few have such a passion to persevere and follow God even in their trials as Tilry did,” Liloy closed. “And I pray that all who have witnessed the life of Tilry Stellarum will be inspired to walk the path he did and choose joy, even in death.” She looked around at her family and friends and slowly walked back to her place in the crowd.

Then came the committal. Reverend Helman signaled to four young men to pick up the bier lying a short ways off from the mourners and bring it to the hole in the ground. The men obliged and set it down beside the grave. “Anyone who wishes may take one last look at Tilry before he is buried,” the preacher said gravely.

Cloudy’s blood froze at those haunting words. Liloy stepped forward and looked into the opened casket, and a fiery shadow of rage seemed to pass over her face. Then the shadow passed and she was once more the quiet, sorrowful girl of seventeen. She walked back over beside her father. Others took Liloy’s place to look upon the face of their deceased friend one last time.

“Cloudy,” Springtime whispered. Cloudy craned her neck to look at her mom. “Go see Tilry, dear.”

Cloudy’s eyes popped wide open. All at once her legs felt rubbery and weak. “No!” she responded frantically, backing away, shaking her head furiously. “I-I don’t want to!”

“Cloudburst,” Springtime repeated, her voice ringing with sternness. “I said, go see him.”

Cloudy refused.

“Why not? Don’t you want to?”

“No!” Cloudy knew that sounded extremely selfish, but she couldn’t help herself—she didn’t want to see Tilry in his expired state. She didn’t want to see him lying there so cold and stiff, his body merely a shell which his soul once occupied and did no longer.

Springtime broke away from the crowd and marched over to Cloudy. “Listen to me,” she said coldly. “I want you to go see him. You need to adequately pay him your respects.”

“I can pay him my respects just fine from over here!” Cloudy boldly answered, her eyes flashing fire.

“Cloudy, go over and look at him! That’s all I’m asking!” Springtime exclaimed, tossing her head in frustration. “Why is that so hard?”

“Because—Because. . .” Cloudy didn’t know why. All she knew was that she was terrified of seeing Tilry in his casket. “I don’t know! I don’t want to look him in the face! Please don’t make me!”

“You have to!” Springtime insisted. “Go!”

“No!” Cloudy cried. Her outburst was pitiful and attracted Meta Knight’s attention. He strode over to see what all the ruckus was.

“What is going on?” he demanded.

“She’s trying to make me see Tilry and I don’t want to!” wailed Cloudy. “I’m too scared! Don’t let her do it, Meta Knight!”

Meta Knight clenched his fists. “Springtime, stop trying to force the child to go over there and look a dead person in the face!” he ordered. “She’s so young and the last thing I want is for her to become disturbingly traumatized as I am! Do you hear me? Do not make her look at Tilry!”

Springtime withdrew at his angered tone, her eyes vast in disbelief. “I didn’t mean anything,” she said in a small voice. “It’s just—when my aunt died, my mom made me look her in the face, even when I didn’t want to. She explained it was a way of showing you truly did want to pay your respects and honor the deceased one. I just wanted Cloudy to understand that.”

Meta Knight turned away, his breathing heavy. He realized he was losing control of himself and tried to calm down, but he was unable to. “Just—leave the child alone,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Please.” He quickly walked off by himself and leaned against a tree, shaking all over.

Cloudy’s ears flattened on her head and she whimpered. Springtime stared at her for a moment, then turned away, her eyes showing she was in abysmal thinking mode. The darkening sky seemed to echo her turbulent, troubling thoughts.

Cloudy watched Star hesitantly approach the casket and place her front paws on the bier, bending over to look inside. The moment she peered inside, a look of horror, fright, and loathing spread over her face and she released a loud shriek, darting back to her mother and burying her face in her chest, wailing loudly. Springtime attempted to pacify her, but to no avail. Star kept on crying. Meta Knight heard the noise created by Star and glanced over at her. His eyes faded to a dark gray and his head lowered. Cloudy felt terrible.

Reverend Helman then gave the order to detrude Tilry into the earth. As the four young men did so, Liloy began to cry aloud, her emotions raw and uncontained. Meta Knight didn’t move, but Cloudy could see him trembling. Her ears went back in discomposure. A few looked sympathetic at Liloy’s grief while others seemed embarrassed.

The clergyman began to pray the committal prayers. “Dear Father, we allot this body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, searching for Your blessed hope of resurrection. We allocate this venerated to Your care, and we ask for Your peace to besiege us as we lament the passing of our dear friend, Tilry Stellarum.”

A stifled sob came from Meta Knight. Cloudy gasped in alarm, wishing with all her heart—good night, why did this have to happen?! Why did Tilry have to die?!

“For as much as it has pleased You, God, to remove from this world the irreplaceable soul of Tilry Stellarum, we henceforth commit his body to the earth, searching for that blessed hope when You Yourself shall detrain from Heaven,” Reverend Helman continued. “We praise and thank You for Tilry’s time with us here on this earth, and we know that the body that lies in this casket is not Tilry’s, but rather the edifice in which he dwelt. We accede that Tilry is rejoicing, at this instant, in Your presence, enjoying Heaven’s bountiful blessings.”

Reverend Helman sighed and folded his hands. “In the promise of resurgence to eternity through the promise of You, Jesus Christ, we loyally and triumphantly give Tilry over to Your beautiful and compassionate care.”

He then asked everyone to bow their heads while he recited the blessing: “The Lord bless him and keep him; the Lord make His face shine upon him and be gracious to him. Amen.”

“Amen,” echoed the throng.

Cloudy suddenly heard running footsteps and turned to see Meta Knight dashing toward the woods, his cape flapping in the rising wind. With a cry of anxiousness, she leaped up. “Meta Knight!” she shouted after him. “Meta Knight!”

The knight paid no heed to her panic-stricken calls.

Liloy heard Cloudy’s shout and stared after her father as he vanished into the forbidding mass of trees. Then she jumped to action. “Let’s go after him!” she exclaimed.

“What?!” Cloudy blurted. “Um, maybe we shouldn’t! He might want to be alone!”

Cloudy then noticed the bright sheen of panic in Liloy’s eyes. “That’s exactly why I want to go after him!” she answered. Then she was off.

“Wait for me!” Cloudy yelled, taking off after the swift-footed girl. In a moment she had caught up to Liloy and both raced into the woods, shouting Meta Knight’s name at the top of their lungs. After a few minutes they stopped running, out of breath and exhausted.

Cloudy flopped to the ground, trying to catch her breath. “Where is he?” she asked, panting. “Why did he leave?”

“I don’t know!” Liloy cried out, burying her face in her hands. Cloudy jumped at her outcry. “I don’t know anything! I just want him to be safe! I don’t want to lose him too!”

Cloudy didn’t know what she meant, but before she could ask, she heard the sound of rushing water. Her ears perked up. A river! she thought. And her ears also picked up another sound—a person crying. “Liloy?”

“What?” Liloy asked, wiping her eyes.

“I think I know where Meta Knight is,” replied Cloudy quickly. She jerked her head in the direction of the sound of the river. “I bet he’s by the river. Let’s go to him!”

“All right,” Liloy agreed, running after Cloudy and stepping up her pace a notch.

 

* * * * *

 

Finally, after minutes of walking and pushing through undergrowth and tangled vines, they came to a deep, swirling river dotted with dead foliage and crackling leaves left over from winter. Meta Knight was sitting beside the river, bent over, the edges of his cape draped in the water. Sobs of pain and trepidation escaped him as he shook violently.

Liloy placed her hands over her mouth and closed her eyes. Cloudy half-hid behind her, frightened. “Oh, what’s wrong with him?” the puppy asked in a quivering tone. “Why did he run away?”

“I don’t know,” Liloy answered bravely, opening her eyes, “but I will find out.” She gestured for Cloudy to wait there and slowly walked to her father. He didn’t look up or move. She knelt beside him, removed her veil, and laid it over his shoulders, and only then did he raise his head to look up into his foster daughter’s face.

“Why are you here?” he asked in a choked voice.

“I was afraid for you,” Liloy explained. “You ran off so suddenly and I. . .I was worried. I―” she paused and shook her head as if in dubiety. “Father, why did you leave?” she gently inquired.

“I couldn’t take it anymore.” The words were not proud and forceful, but insecure and precarious. “I didn’t want to see my son-in-law being placed into the ground. I’ve seen that too many times to count with my friends who used to be in the army. . .” His voice broke and he caught hold of her hand, pressing his face into her shoulder. Liloy placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I. . .I couldn’t handle my emotions, Liloy. I couldn’t. . .”

“Hey.” She took hold of both his hands and looked into his eyes. “It’s all right. Breathe.” She hugged him, speaking soothingly to him. “It’s okay.”

Cloudy watched father and daughter with rapt stupefaction, a glint of awe in her eye. “How odd,” she muttered, “but why does that look so familiar to me?” After a bit of thought-searching, she knew. It had occurred last Christmas, when their plane bringing them to Leupochena had crashed and left Meta Knight traumatized. Cloudy had comforted him the same way Liloy was comforting him now.

That was why it was recognizable.

After waiting in the shadows for a while, Cloudy decided to make her move. She emerged from among the trees and made her way over to Meta Knight. At first he seemed startled to see her, but then he relaxed. “I should have known you would follow me out here, little one,” he spoke, rubbing her between the ears.

“Meta Knight, please come back with us to the burial plot,” pleaded Cloudy. Then she wished she hadn’t requested such a thing, for Meta Knight’s eyes flashed dark-green and then gray. His body tensed. There was a long silence.

“No,” he said at last. “I―forgive me, child, but I cannot go back.” His voice faltered. “Please go without me.”

“We can’t,” Liloy said. “We want you with us, Father. Please. Come back.”

“I will not go.” He turned his back on them. “Go without me.”

Cloudy sighed and rolled her eyes to the heavens. She didn’t mean to get annoyed with him, but his attitude really nagged at her sometimes. “Why not, Meta Knight?” she said in a peeved tone. Then without waiting for him to answer, she went on, “Listen, you can’t keep running away from your problems. That won’t help you solve them. It’ll only make the problem harder to resolve.” She tapped her foot on the ground. “If you’re not willing to change your problems, Sir Meta Knight―” She paused for dramatic effect. “―then your problems will eventually begin to change you.”

Meta Knight slowly stood to his feet and turned to face the brave Star Warrior child staring at him with a determined, fearless stare. For a long moment, their gazes locked, and no one said anything. Then without warning, his hand clenched into a fist, and with an anguished cry he struck it hard against a tree trunk. Cloudy yelped in surprise at the loud crack that resounded throughout the woods when his fist landed on and fractured the bark. Liloy gaped at her father, shocked.

Meta Knight lowered his hand and sank to the ground, weeping softly. Cloudy and Liloy looked at each other, eyes wide in perturbation. Liloy’s facial expression asked a silent question; Cloudy answered with a simple shake of the head. There was no use trying to convince him to come back with them. He would never do it.

“Is there nothing—nothing we can do?” Liloy begged.

Her words were drowned out by a sudden clap of thunder. Cloudy stared up at the awning of trees, squinting to see between the filters of overhanging leaves. A drop of rain on her nose surprised her for a laconic moment. Then another fell to the ground, and then another, and another. Soon the raindrops were pelting down, faster and faster, stinging their faces, drenching them all in a matter of seconds.

“Ugh!” Cloudy groaned, shaking herself. “I’m all wet!”

Liloy looked down at the river and gasped. “Cloudy!” she cried out, pointing to the silver filament threading its way through the towering trees standing as erect as sentries on duty to protect their ramparts. “The river is flooding!”

“And we’re right in a low-lying area!” Cloudy said with horror in her voice. “We need to get out of here, and we need to make it snappy!”

Liloy ran back to her father and grabbed his hand, trying to pull him to his feet, but he pushed her away. “Leave me alone!” he ordered.

“Father, the river! It’s flooding!” Liloy cried in desperation, again pulling at his hand, aspiring to get him to safety. He again thrust her away, refusing her help. “Father!”

“Liloy, leave me!” Meta Knight shouted over the pounding rain and roaring river. “Leave me be!”

“Father, please!” Liloy pleaded, but he backed away from her, his hand straying to the hilt of his sword. Cloudy didn’t like his look; she was getting a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. Please don’t do anything you’ll regret later on, Meta Knight, she silently begged.

“Meta Knight!” she hollered over the noise of the blowing rain and wind. “We need to get out of here or we’ll drown in a flash flood! Come on!”

“You two go back! I will not depart from this place!” The voice, so cold and steely, caused little prickles of fear to needle Cloudy’s skin. What was he planning to do? What would they do if he did something to himself?

The words spun in Cloudy’s mind as she tried to weave them together in a pattern like silk thread. She repeated them in her head, over and over again, trying to find the sequence of them. Suddenly alarm bells began to jump and go off in her head. Liloy’s words leaped into her mind:

“I just want him to be safe! I don’t want to lose him too!”

That’s it! Cloudy thought to herself, panic overwhelming her whole being. He’s going to. . .  No way, nohow! She couldn’t let that happen!!

“No!” she screamed into the dark woods. “No, no! Meta Knight, come back! Don’t do it!” Her cry was a plea for him to let them help, to let them guide him through this harrowing time of lamentation for Tilry. They didn’t want him to make the most common and the biggest mistake anyone could ever make in their life.

Liloy echoed the puppy’s cry, begging him to stay. “What would we do without you?!” she insisted. “We couldn’t live without you, Father!”

Their words seemed to have a dramatic effect on Meta Knight. He halted, slowly turned to stare at them, and the hardened gaze left his face. The hand that was touching the sword’s hilt gradually dropped to his side. There was no sound but the mournful pat-patter of the rain dripping through the leaves and falling lightly to the ground.

And still the two young friends waited on the high bank, silently begging him to come back with them―alive.