The Jazz Funeral: Goodbye, Henri

Posted on 11/10/2020 @ 2:51pm by Captain Cian D'Anvers
Edited on on 11/20/2020 @ 5:23pm

Mission: S3E1: Time of Change
Location: New Orleans, Earth
Timeline: Day 79 at 1545

Family and friends walked to the cemetery, led by a jazz band that played slow dirges. Cian, conspicuous in his immaculate Starfleet dress uniform, had been given the privilege of being one of the pallbearers. Wearing white gloves, he moved at a slow, measured pace guided by the heel beat of six pairs of shoes, striking the ground at the same moment, accompanied by the mournful wail of instruments and the soft, steady tears of the women that had graced the Chief's life.

As with so many Starfleet personnel, there had been no wife, no children. A life on a starship often precluded the possibility. But there were family members and for all the distance between them, it appeared that the family had been close.

The senseless waste of a life was something he did not share with the family. They had no need to know that his captors had found him useless. That he had been discarded. Instead, he had listened to their stories of Henri's life, his escapades and accomplishments, and wished that the captaincy and the distance that came with the job had kept him from knowing the man better.

Because it was clear, the honest love they all shared, for each other and for him, and it sparked memories from his own childhood. Celebration of events marked by the pooling meager resources among family, neighbors, and friends. Laughter and music undimmed by the lack of wealth and privilege. Death on a pyre because they were not permitted burials and ceremonies. Theirs had been a private grief but in Henri's family, he found common ground.

The path wound through old growth trees into a family cemetery that had been tended over the years by wives and mothers, sons and fathers. Stone markers stood at each grave, bearing names and dates, inscriptions, and carvings. Genealogy displayed in their collective grief. As slaves, owned by the state, they had all had numerical designations and blood lines were tracked for their marketable value. Some were lucky enough to have oral histories, remembered and shared, though his had not been.

The band stopped playing once they'd arrived at their destination and he stepped back, merging with the crowd. The ceremony was brief. Family members and friends brought a flower and laid it on the casket in what he assumed was their way of saying good-bye. Someone pressed a similar flower into his hand and when it was his turn, he stepped forward to lay it on top of the growing pile. Rest easy, Cian thought. I am sorry for how it all turned out. You deserved better than to die the way you did, Chief.

The band began again though this time, the music was lively, almost joyous, as the family led the procession out of the cemetery, laughing and dancing, in a celebration of his life. He knew this from his reading and from the explanation given to him by one of the cousins when he'd been asked to be a pallbearer. He himself remained in the second line, enjoying the music, but not dancing. Keeping the distance though not this time as a Captain but as an outsider who didn't want to intrude on familial grief.

He slowed his pace, dropping back further and further, so that he finally came to a stop at the gates. He watched for awhile as the procession wended its way down the street, returning to the parent's home where there would be food and drink. Quiet returned and in the silence that enveloped the place, he tapped his combadge and said, "D'Anvers to Crazy Horse. One to beam up."

A post by:

Captain Cian D'Anvers
Commanding Officer
USS Crazy Horse