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My heart is heavy as I try to go about my morning, showering and eating some yogurt for breakfast. It tastes like sawdust. I try to distract myself by checking the news, but every headline and post only reminds me of the pain and loss that Sebastian’s family has suffered.
As the morning drags on, my anxiety grows. I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong, causing Sebastian to ignore me. I pace around my apartment, my mind racing with worry and fear. Finally, I decide that I can’t just sit around waiting for Sebastian to call or message me. I need to take action.
The thought of facing the funeral alone, without Sebastian or even a single person I know, makes me feel like a ship adrift in a tempestuous sea. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, and begin the process of getting prepared.
I stretch my aching limbs, and my gaze falls upon my wardrobe. What the hell is someone supposed to wear to the funeral of their future fiancé? I rummage through the hangers, searching for something suitable for the occasion. The dress code for a funeral is somber, but I don't want to look too dreary. After much deliberation, I finally decide on a black dress with an understated floral pattern, also in black, but matted so it only shows in the light. It fits well, which is about all I can ask at the moment.
My reflection in the mirror reveals dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep. I know I can’t afford to look too tired, not when I’m supposed to be a steadying presence to Sebastian, so I try to cover them with makeup. I apply a few strokes of concealer, dabbing lightly with my fingers until the circles fade away. I don't want anyone, especially Sebastian, to worry about me.
I slip on a pair of black pumps and grab my purse. As I leave my apartment, even the fresh morning air doesn’t do anything to erase the dread and sorrow hanging over me. In fact, it seems to hang over the whole world. The wind howls as I hail a taxi, adding to the overall sense of unease.
In the distance, the sky is blue, but directly overhead, heavy gray clouds linger. Rain starts to fall, a light drizzle that seems to match my mood. I give the driver the address of the cathedral in Utrecht. I don’t want to call my family’s estate to get my own driver; it will tip my mother off to what I’m doing because at this point, I’m pretty sure the entire country knows about the Van den Bosch funeral today. I can’t remember there ever being such a big news story since the divorce of my parents–the tragedy is unmatched, and things like this make for great news, at the expense of a family’s peace, of course.
The drive is quiet, the only sound is the gentle hum of the engine and the tapping of the rain on the windows. I stare out at the passing buildings, my thoughts drifting back to Sebastian. I can’t shake the pit of my stomach. What if something’s happened to him? What if I never see him again?
During the long ride to Utrecht, my phone rings and I see my mother’s name flashing on the screen. My heart drops, anticipating a scolding for attending the funeral of Sebastian’s family. But to my surprise, her voice is gentle and concerned.
“Julia, dear, are you going to the funeral?” She asks immediately. I feel cold, and then hot, but there is no escaping the truth. I might as well be honest with her and hope for the best.
I swallow hard, caught off guard by her knowledge of my plans. “Yes, Mom,” I reply, after some hesitation. “I need to be there for him.”
She pauses for a moment before responding. “I understand, darling.” Her voice is softer than usual and I can’t help but find it strange. “If you feel like coming home afterward, I will have a great supper ready for us and we can talk about this tragic event. I hope Sebastian is doing okay?”
My mother’s empathy catches me off guard, and tears prick at the corners of my eyes. “I’m not sure, honestly, but I would assume not. But thank you for calling, Mom,” I tell her, my voice choked with emotion. “I appreciate it.”
As I hang up the phone, I realize that despite the miles between us, my mother's unexpected support is a comfort in this difficult time, even if it is a complete shock. I guess that even if she hates Sebastian, my mother can still look past that to feel kindness toward his family during such a horrible time. I take a deep breath and steel myself for the emotional toll of the day ahead.
I fiddle nervously with the hem of my dress, lost in thought. What will Sebastian say when he sees me? Will he be surprised or upset that I came without him inviting me directly? My thoughts spiral out of control until we arrive at the sad destination.
The taxi pulls up to the cathedral, and I pay the driver before stepping outside. The building looms above me, its tall spires disappearing into the low-hanging clouds. I can see the crowds gathering outside; media vans line the street a distance away from the church itself, held back by orange barriers, and reporters are milling about, trying to get exclusive information about the tragedy that has unfolded.
“Wait for me, here,” I instruct the driver, before giving him some more cash for him to do so.
Apprehension rolls over me. I know that they will recognize me as someone close to Sebastian if I get within eyesight, and they will want to talk to me, but I can’t deal with that right now. I just want to see him and make sure he’s okay.
The ominous sight of the church sends chills down my spine. Making my way toward the entrance, my eyes scan the crowd for a familiar face. I expected it, but my chest still feels tight and sweat breaks out on my forehead when I realize there really is no one I know, at least in the crowd outside. Only family and close acquaintances are in the cathedral itself, so maybe I will have better luck there.
I push my way through with my head down, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone. My anxiety is barely held at bay as I approach the entrance to the cathedral. Inside, it’s almost silent, except for one voice that carries above all the others. As I step inside, my eyes land on Sebastian standing at the podium, giving his eulogy. Pride cuts through my sadness as I watch him speak. Despite the tragedy that has struck his family, he remains composed and articulate, a true leader.
Looking around, I am struck by the somber atmosphere. People are dressed in black and there are flowers everywhere, which is to be expected, but the air is so thick with grief, and the three caskets at the front of the church pull my eyes to them, no matter how much I want to look away. A knot forms in my stomach as I give a few more steps ahead, wanting to be unobtrusive and not interrupt Sebastian, but still wanting him to know that I’m here.
Then he looks at me—our eyes meet, and the chasm of agony inside of him is evident even from this far away. Sebastian’s gaze locks me in place, standing in the middle of the cathedral aisle between the rows of pews, unable to move. He only stops speaking for a moment after seeing me, and I am struck by how composed he sounds. But I know him well enough to see through the facade. I can hear the sadness in his voice, the pain he is trying so hard to hide.
As carefully as I can, I sink down onto the edge of one of the empty pews in the back and continue to watch him give his eulogy for his loved ones. Sebastian keeps it together for longer than I would ever expect, but it doesn’t last forever, and I watch as he struggles to speak, his words choked with emotion. My heart breaks for him, and I want to rush to his side and hold him. But this is something he has to do alone if he’s ever going to find closure. With a tragedy of this magnitude, a part of me doubts that he ever really will.
“--but their deaths will not be in vain,” he says, his voice rising in volume and bouncing off the stone walls and stained glass windows. “Whoever did it doesn’t know what we’re capable of. The Van den Bosch family will not sit silently by while the ones we love are killed in cold blood. No matter how long it takes, we will find the murderers. I give you all my word.”
There is vitriol and cold rage in his tone, and it makes even me, the woman that he’s spoken about marriage with, shiver in fear. Listening to Seb talk like this, I believe every word he says. God help whoever did this to him.
Tears stream down my face as I watch him, and I know that I will do whatever it takes to support him, to help him find justice for his family. Together, we will get through this.
* * *
After Sebastian’s eulogy, he goes to sit with his father, and the weight of his words hang heavy over the entire church. I stand as everyone else does, but the press of bodies and the way they all flow towards the doors is unavoidable, and even though I try to turn and see where Sebastian is in the crush, it’s impossible. I ache at the thought of coming all this way and not seeing him, especially after the emotional catharsis of his speech, but there’s nothing to be done about it. So I go outdoors with everyone else, where the clouds are clearing and the sun is making a slow appearance.
I paid the cab driver extra to wait on me, just in case I can’t ride with Sebastian to the cemetery, and seeing how many people are still here milling around, I’m glad that I did. Plus, I guess I didn’t really understand how dark and personal this would all feel. It’s like I’m a foreigner here, and of course Sebastian will want to ride with his father, not his almost-fiancé that he hasn’t spoken to for a week now.
Cars are starting to depart and the media is slowly pushing past the barriers as it becomes clear the event is over, so I slide back into the cab and inform him to follow the procession once it gets going. I hope Seb doesn’t think that I left without speaking to him, but I will see him soon enough, anyway.
