The world seemed to know my feelings.  I blinked the rain out of my already damp eyes, looking up at the graying sky.  It rumbled in grief as my insides screamed out in pure misery.  The silence of the atmosphere was deafening.  I wanted to shake the shoulders of the men sitting around me.  I wanted to yell in their faces and inquire as to why they showed no remorse, no sadness at the loss of our band mate; our friend; our brother.

They sat, silent as the grave, listening to the rumbling of the thunder that seemed to echo all of the feelings which I kept hidden within me; the feelings that would, at any second, come bursting to the surface.

It was time for me to pay my respects.  It was time for me to tell the world exactly how much he had meant to me; how much he would always mean to me until I joined him.  I got to my feet, unable to feel the presence of the ground beneath my feet.  I was unaware of the rain that battered down on the gathering.  I was unaware of the absence of sobs that covered the audience.  I was unaware of anything other than the fact that he was gone.

Walking to the podium that sat next to the wooden casket, I stopped my flow of tears.  This wasn't time for me to cry.  It was my turn to reveal just how much my heart ached now that he was gone from my world, never to make a reappearance.  My body, my mind, and my heart braced themselves for the overwhelming grief that would turn my world into a lifeless, hopeless place, void of any hint of happiness; void of any sign that he had been there.

I wasn't planning on speaking.  Words were nothing more than just that.  They held no meaning, no inkling of the pain that gripped my heart at that moment.  The one thing that could possibly reflect my misery - the one thing that could have expressed how much I loved him - was to sing.  Sing my heart, sing my emotions, sing of my pain and loss and fear at the prospect of trying to live without him.

I closed my eyes and imagined an empty room.  I imagined him smiling, standing in front of me, eyes bright and expectant.  I imagined the way blossoming red would flood his cheeks; the way his eyes would flash downward, casting shadows over the curves of his cheekbones; the way his fingers would fidget in embarrassment.  I smiled, in spite of myself, at the warm, precious memory of him.  Alive.  Happy.

Keeping my eyes closed, keeping that beautiful image of him in my mind, I let my love and pain flow endlessly out, riding on the wind of music.  The melody of the song wrapped its way around my heart, hardening it.  The harmony that filled the air painted a passive mask over my face, keeping my emotions hidden while the music revealed everything.  Each and every beat pulsed through the earth, sending a message to heaven and hell that I would be joining him soon.  The vibrations that were sent up and along my throat calmed the shudders and sobs that threatened to make their presence known.  Within each note that flew out of my mouth, that danced on the tip of lips, I sent memories of him - of us - flying through the air, mixing with the drops of rain that fell from above.

As the last refrain drew to an end, I remembered the way he would smile whenever he heard me sing.  I remembered the joy that would grip his existence whenever music was brought to his ears.  I remembered the exhilaration that would be reflected in his eyes whenever he placed his thin fingers on the black and white keys of a piano, or the beautiful, sleek strings of his guitar.  How would I be able to live in a world of music while constantly being reminded of him? I didn't have the strength to endure it.

As the song drew to a close, so did my indecision.  Without him, life was dark, life was joyless, life was empty of any purpose.  As long as he would go on without the comfort of music, I would do the same.  With this last thought, I uttered the last notes of any song I would ever sing.