Oh boy, I'm sorry I left you waiting.... I got distracted by a few things (RL, a new story...)
I promise the next parts will come quicker. This will be the last part of this story - the beginning of the next story will be posted immediately after this, to make up for the long wait. Also thanks for the feedback on this story, and I'm sorry that I didn't answer to that. As I said... the distractions are everywhere.
Chapter 4 Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.
(Norman Cousins)
The knock I’d been dreading reverberates through the room, and a moment later, Perry materializes in the doorframe. His eyes meet mine, and I see my grief mirrored in his eyes. Beyond a curt greeting, there are no words; nothing is needed to convey our feelings. His mouth moves, but silence prevails.
There’s nothing left to say.
Grateful for the quiet, he encircles my shoulders with a gentle arm, allowing me to weep in the privacy of our shared space before facing the others.
Down the creaking stairs we go, out of the house, and toward the waiting black rental where the Kents and Jimmy sit.
It is time.
My gaze lingers on the farmhouse, too early to say goodbye. I yearn to retreat, lock myself in your room, and pretend you are still around the corner, in the barn, anywhere but gone.
Instead, I settle into the backseat beside the Kents, silently thankful not to drive. These past days, we’d talked endlessly, but today demands solitude. You, the passionate, gentle, loving man who has found the way to my heart. Had I stayed in Metropolis, I wonder how I’d survive.
Martha’s hand clasps mine, Jonathan’s secure grip completing our lifeline. We are the sole witnesses to your true self, even if I’ve pieced it together too late. Together, we hold each other up, even when despair seems to overwhelm us.
As the car pulls away, I stare out the window at the pond where you'd faced Trask. In my dreams for months afterward, he’d return, aiming the gun at you. At that moment, time froze – nothing moves until Trask crumples, gasping his last breath. I'd rushed to hug you, needing to feel your safety in a tangible way.
My gaze is glued to my hands, staring but not seeing while I try to ignore the warm and beautiful summer day.
Now, during those long talks with your parents I finally understood the relevance of that weekend. Your papercut reaction, the odd allergy, the difference in your behavior - Kryptonite.
It is all so obvious now.
As we say our goodbyes today, I know you’d want me to carry on. To be happy, to chase my Pulitzer dream. But without you, am I still that woman? The award's allure faded when you were no longer by my side.
Because of you, I transformed into a new version of myself, a woman who no longer needed to bite off heads to prove her worth. For the first time, acceptance and respect enveloped me in a way I’d never known. With you I didn’t feel the urge to be ‘Mad Dog Lane’ to earn respect.
Reflecting on our time together, I realize you appreciated my strengths and respected my vulnerabilities, perhaps even treasured me more because of them. Prior to you, love and worth were currencies I had to earn. Daddy's hug required good grades and Mother's approval demanded perfection. Even at work, Perry's respect often came with the caveat that we were only as good as our next story.
But you changed that. You taught me to accept help and to embrace vulnerability without fear of judgment. Your unwavering presence during moments of danger strengthened me; when I harbored a fugitive you urged to call the police but backed me up in front of Perry, when I faced threats you offered to protect me without forcing me to follow your advice. Every incident underscored your trust in me.
Yet, when you needed protection, I was about to get in bed with the devil.
I let you down.
Inviting you into my life felt dangerous, and I resisted fiercely. But my efforts proved futile, and now I grapple with a whirlwind of emotions.
I thought I'd learned not to depend on men. The lessons from Daddy who left our family during my teenage years and the betrayal by friends like Paul and Linda taught me a harsh lesson. The Daily Planet became my surrogate family, until Claude shattered that bond.
And then there was Lex, the man who manipulated my world, presenting himself as my savior and anchor. He taught me not to trust my own instincts.
I accepted his proposal, blinded by the remnants of my shattered reality. As he slid the ring onto my finger, I forced excitement to mask the unease within. But deep down, agony whispered beneath the endearments.
Why didn't I heed my heart's warnings? Why didn't I listen to you? Perhaps it would have spared you pain, kept you alive.
Now, as we approach the chapel near the graveyard, I wonder why you revealed your feelings when I wasn't ready. Why the secrecy about your identity? How could I be so blind?
If only I'd seen the truth - the two men I loved were one and the same.
Martha's encouragement to tell me about your feelings and even Superman's true identity must have influenced you to tell me in the park.The feelings of guilt gnawing at my heart, I grapple with conflicting emotions, torn between anger and longing. To hate you for your numerous deceits would simplify everything, but my heart refuses to make it easy for me.
Why did you lie? Did you doubt my strength, my ability to bear your secret? Or was it trust that faltered? I replay our moments - the partnership, the camaraderie - trying to reconcile Superman with Clark, my friend.
Tears blur my vision, and I squeeze my eyes shut. I fight the memories, the guilt, the questions. Forward, I tell myself. To overcome hurt, I must look ahead. But can I? Letting you go feels like severing a vital part of my existence.
The funeral, a futile hope for closure. Perry, Jimmy, and many of our colleagues gather to pay respects. The chapel blooms with white lilies, roses, and chrysanthemums, their scent mingling with grief. The empty casket lies before us, a vessel for an unsung hero. Where have they taken your body? The question echoes, unanswered.
Metropolis will celebrate Superman, but the details are kept a secret to protect his remains.
My allegiance remains here, with your parents. Martha and Jonathan, once unbreakable, are now fragile. Their love pierces my heart. As a reporter, I've encountered grieving parents, but this, knowing your story, understanding their love, is different. They couldn't conceive naturally. They embraced you as their own, from the moment they laid eyes on the precious gift from the stars, the spaceship that carried you. Had you sprouted tentacles instead of superpowers, their love would have remained unwavering. But now, their hearts ache doubly.
They sit beside me in the small chapel, their grief palpable. Perry, stalwart and silent, occupies the seat on my other side. His hand rests on my shoulder, a steady presence during my moments of overwhelming sorrow. Martha, too, clings to me, drawing strength as she gives it.
Perry, aged by loss, glances at me. His stern newsroom demeanor hides vulnerability known only to those who truly understand him. Jimmy, once full of sparkle, wears silence now. Your absence transformed him, emboldening him beyond delivery boy duties, into a peer.
Jack, too, transformed. You became his older brother, offering a chance when others dismissed him, a trust forged through friendship. You even found a foster family for his brother. Remarkably, you forgave him for stealing your most prized possession.
In this church, we gather, bound by the loss of an extraordinary man.
Regardless of guise, you made our world better. Your legacy endures. We mourn, remember, and love you. Your parents asked if I'd write this eulogy, but words failed me. How can I capture the essence of a soul so vast, a heart so giving? You transformed our lives, transcending your earthly guise.
Perry steps up to the podium, taking a deep breath before he begins. “Dear friends, colleagues, and beloved family - Martha, Jonathan, and Lois,”
“About a year ago, Clark walked into my office, presenting me with an article on the ‘Mating Rituals of the Knob-Tailed Gecko.’ As you can probably imagine, this wasn’t an article you’d typically find in the Planet. Despite Professor Carlton’s endorsement, I had nothing to offer him, so I sent him away, but I hoped our paths would cross again. I could see Clark’s passion flowing through his words. Even when I couldn’t hire him, he remained undeterred. He brought another story, about a soon-to-be-demolished theater. It touched hearts without sentimentality. He convinced me with his work.” Perry pauses.
My throat tightens; that was the story I declined. Secretly, I had admired his writing style.
“In the ensuing months, Clark surprised us all. At the Daily Planet, we felt privileged to know him. One particular instance stands out in my mind. There was a time when a colleague was going through a personal crisis. Without hesitation, Clark stepped in, offering not just a listening ear but also practical support. He stayed late to help with their workload, ensuring they didn’t fall behind. His actions were a testament to his compassion and thoughtfulness. Clark’s boundless love was evident in the way he treated everyone with kindness and respect, regardless of their position or status. He had an uncanny ability to make each person feel valued and understood.”
Perry captures Clark’s essence perfectly: compassion, thoughtfulness, boundless love.
And yet, there was more to Clark Kent than met the eye. He was our unsung hero, quietly making a difference. His articles weren’t just ink on paper; they were lifelines for the people of Metropolis. When disaster struck, Clark was there, not as Superman, but as the man who cared deeply about this city and its people.
But it wasn’t just about the stories; it was about justice. Clark believed in truth, even when it was inconvenient.
And then there were the small moments - the way he’d bring me coffee, the encouraging notes he left on our desks, the way he’d listen when we needed someone to talk to. Clark was more than a colleague; he was family.
“His humility was astounding. He never sought recognition, preferring to let others take the credit. But we knew. We knew that behind those glasses was a man with a heart as big as the city he loved. So, as we say goodbye to Clark Kent, let us remember not just the reporter, but the friend who made our lives better. Clark, wherever you are, thank you for being our light in the darkest of times.”
Following the ceremony we walk to the cemetery in silence.
Next to the open grave, Martha stops, knees buckling. Jonathan and Perry steady her. My own legs waver, weakened by grief. What am I doing here? How do I say goodbye? I yearn for your sweater, a tangible piece of you. Maybe, just for a while, I'll cling to hope, hope that you'll reappear, fill this void.
As the coffin rests in the grave, reality eludes me. For one more glimpse of Clark's smile, I'd give everything.
Clark, I love you... forever.
Goodbye.
FDK can go below
