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#0
DEC 14 |
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“Loss”
Calvary Cemetery, Queens
He had arrived in a haze, lost in a blur of thoughts that never really became coherent. The driver that had delivered him and the coffin which contained his departed aunt had tried to start a conversation of shared grief and understanding but Peter had failed to respond. The driver’s words were mumbles that did not register in Peter’s ears.
He stood at the cusp of the open grave, protected from the rain by the decorative funerary tent that covered the burial site. Unable to be pulled from his incoherent thoughts, he barely noticed as the laborers set the coffin pulleys into place and centered May’s coffin upon them. His vision joined his mind, working in slow motion as the mourners trickled in, dressed in black with matching umbrellas.
Someone suggested that he move back from the edge of the grave but was eventually forced to move since he seemed to be unable to do so himself. Mary Jane held his arm firmly; she felt him trembling through his suit coat. Her veil obscured her tears.
The officiator instructed all of the mourners into a crescent shape to listen to his upcoming words, curving around the side of the casket. Within minutes, so many friends and family had arrived to show their respect, they were forced to observe from the rain, too numerous for the overhead tarpaulin to protect. Had Peter been able to pay attention, he would be happy to know so many people shared the love he had for May Parker.
Words of loss and hope, of tragedy and recovery, were given as they proceedings commenced. Tears rained from the mourners as freely as the rain from the sky above as though the world shared with them their loss. If Peter were listening to the words, he would surely have like to remember them. Eulogies are rarely remembered as there are many other thoughts to preoccupy the mind.
Eventually, in what seemed to him to be somewhere between ten minutes and six years, the group dispersed quietly. Seemingly random people approached Peter to show their respect. Mary Jane stood by him, thanking them for attending since Peter seemed unable to respond.
Flash Thompson and Betty shared their condolences; Betty’s eyes streaked with running mascara. Liz Osborn and her little toddler Normie chatted with them for several minutes but received no reply from Peter, leaving after being assured by Mary Jane that their attendance was appreciated and Peter would thank them soon. J. Jonah Jameson added his comfort with genuine emotion that would surely have floored Peter on any other day for any other reason.
Peter wordlessly refused an Avengers Priority card from Steve Rogers, who attempted nonchalantly to give him a shoulder to cry on with the World’s Mightiest Heroes should he need it. Mary Jane graciously accepted, knowing that Peter would love to be invited on any other day for any other reason.
Slowly, even slower within Peter’s preoccupied mind, he was left alone with Mary Jane as they watched the casket resting at the bottom of the grave. Mary Jane whispered to him, hoping to get him to break his terrible silence.
“It’s time to celebrate her life now,” she said gently. “She would want you to remember her fondly, not like this.”
Peter cleared his throat as he did not know if he still had the ability to speak. “Can I have some time alone?” he mumbled as he finally made eye contact with his wife. “I want to say a few words to her.”
Mary Jane gave him a tiny smile as she rubbed his shoulder. “I’ll wait for you in the car,” she said as she walked away.
Peter brought his gaze back to the coffin, lost in thought once again. Once he heard the car door closing in the distance and he knew that his wife was out of earshot, he spoke but not to his dead aunt.
“You can come out now,” he grumbled, not breaking his gaze.
“She was a great woman, Peter,” Otto Octavius said as he approached from behind one of the large columbarium walls, a brown trench coat hiding his true identity. “Losing her is a loss for all of humanity. She will be missed by many, myself among them.”
“You have no right to be here,” Peter frowned, not giving Octavius the satisfaction of eye contact.
Octavius seemed truly sad as he came to Peter’s side and joined him as he stared at May’s casket. “I come only to share my sadness; to give my condolences.”
“I don’t need to hear it from you,” Peter replied. “I’ve heard it from a hundred people today; people that really know how to love; people who knew May.”
“You can continue to hate me all you wish, Peter, but I still offer my sympathies.”
“Get out of here, Otto, before you regret getting this close to me.”
“Know that this is the final time I will be cordial to you,” Octavius growled, his metal tentacles twitching mildly beneath his overcoat. “When we meet again I will extend no courtesies.”
Peter was silent, staring in anger at the casket still. After seconds of extraordinary awkwardness, Octavius left in silence, leaving Peter alone yet again. He looked to the blank gravestone, considering his future without his Aunt, the woman who made him what he was. He pondered what the tombstone would one day inform visitors. It was destined to remind him of what she meant to him and all that she was to him.
Looking to the sky, past the tent that had covered him from the rain, he realized that his Spider-Sense had not triggered when he had conversed with Doctor Octopus. Otto’s words had been genuine.
With a slight smile of realization, he knew that if May Parker could affect someone like Doctor Octopus, then she had lived her life to the fullest and everyone that had ever known her was better off for it. He figured that he could get over his own depression well enough to take that to heart.
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To Be Continued...
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