Secret

The weather seems fitting somehow, overcast sky and the relentless drizzle that makes you chilled to the bone.  Black ravens stand huddled round the open grave as the vicar drones on in monotonous tones about how great and good the fallen one was.

I stand back, my eyes never leaving the ebony casket, barely visible under the seemingly gaudy colors of the flag.  Nestled atop are his cap and gloves, a mark of respect that seems all wrong, he was far more than a uniform.

They move now to encase him in the dark earth.  The flag, cap and gloves are removed and handed to a woman, his wife.  She is supported by two others, younger, but the family resemblance is obvious, his daughters.  I want to scream out no, but instead I bite my tongue.

As he is slowly lowered into the grave that will be his eternal home I feel my legs weaken, but I will not fall.  Instead I think of him, of light and of laughter, of picnics in the park, of making love in soft cotton sheets, of holding him and never wanting to let go.

The last shovel of earth has fallen, the mourners long since left for tea and sandwiches and sympathy.  It is now that I can say goodbye without fear of questions or discovery.  I kneel beside his final resting place, not caring as my clothes become marked and dirty.  I reach out a shaky hand and touch the soil that separates us, murmuring words of love and anguish.

We were a secret, a love that should never have been, soulmates who met too late.  We shouldn’t be together, yet we couldn’t stay away. 

And now it’s over.  Killed in the line of duty.  All my grieving done in secret.

I push myself to my feet and take one final look at where my beloved lies, and my hand goes to my belly, for cradled safely there is one secret I will never get to share with him.  Our child.