The Circus Funeral
There are signs we cannot ignore when spoken to us. I believe we are not what we continuously speak. We are not what we continuously think. We are what we continuously hide.
For the most part of my life, I had been told I was different from the rest of my family. The only one with unruly red hair, the only one who was left handed, the only one who had freckles and was always tall for my age. None of it bothered me, until a black envelope arrived one day in the mail, addressed to me. Unnoticed by anyone, I hid it in the folds of my coat, ran upstairs, and carefully hid it in my dresser. The weight of it felt odd, and the soft material was so pristine, I was sure it was an accident.
After much hesitation, I read the following:
Join us to celebrate the life of our esteemed Ringmaster:
FORTUNATO
The funeral procession will depart at midnight at Althoff Trail
“To be gone is a mystery,
To be found is to have liberty.”
The rest of the day went by in a haze while I deliberated and talked myself out of going, for naught. When darkness fell, my feet led me to the edge of the trees where the forest began across the street from my house. I did not have to wait long, someone was waiting for me already.
“Didn’t think you’d come,” he said, wearing a long black coat, and top hat that hid his white hair.
"Didn’t think so either,” I replied and unsure of what to do, I followed him, knowing it was someone I had never met or seen before. Trusting this stranger would have to suffice.
“Why did I get an invitation?” I asked after walking in silence.
“Why not?” he replied.
“I don’t even know who this—man was.”
“That’s not important, is it? We are here to celebrate life.”
“Yes, but…who was he?”
“A man of importance, a man of honor.”
“Is that all?”
He paused surveying me, “You are a peculiarity.”
“That’s not so bad,” I say, shrugging it off, used to it.
The edge of the trees became denser, and suddenly, he paused, his voice clear in the darkness, “They’ll be no turning back here. What you are about to see is of extreme privacy and magic. What do you say?”
A million things I thought to say, and one only one escaped, “To be found is to have liberty…that was on the invitation…”
“And, what are you hoping to find?”
I can hardly hear what I say but understand its intensity, “Me.”
He smiled and said, “Oh yes. We can surely fit that in our schedule.”
*****************************
“Here comes the boy,” someone whispers. “Yes, I see him, he’s here. We can begin.”
The figure that I followed in the distance was gone. Odd faces and bright-colored costumes took its place. There are smiles, claps, and whistles along with whispers that travel with the wind and the torches that some carry in their gloved hands.
“To the heir,” an older woman said dressed in a golden trapeze costume. She stood at the center next to a carriage on a trail in the middle of the forest, holding a torch.
“Let us begin now,” she addressed the crowd. The procession began, and the large carriage moved along with everyone trailing behind it, chanting a song. I moved along, entranced by the lights, colors, and masks, when someone told me, “Welcome, we’ve been expecting you.”
“What do you mean?” I paused and the song came to a halt, and all eyes are on me.
“My dear boy,” the older woman approached me, “you’re to inherit this circus.”
“What? I…I had no idea. No one told me. Why, the man who brought me here...he’s…”
“Not to be found, is he?” My head swirled, and I nervously tried to spot the black top hat and glimmering white hair, that was nowhere in sight.
“Who…is he?”
“That was our Ringmaster, Fortunato.” Everyone bowed their heads in respect.
“Now, it’s your turn to find liberty, eh?” She holds the torch out to me, bidding me to take it. “Will you join us?”
Time stops for the dead constantly. Yet, it’s a comfort to know we’re not alone in the universe because maybe all we really want is to be understood.