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No matter how sad and lonely things get, death is not the end. Even if she no longer has her friend. The stormy clouds that lies within her eyes turn to her daughter who cries the words of her father, "death is not the end." His spirit remains alive, but Nova now fears that she is only living to survive.
"We give thanks for the gift of King T'Challa, Black Panther" the spiritual leaders speak. Those surrounding the casket grieve in silence as they attempt to seek relief from the spoken words, "Son of King T'Chaka, descendant of the revered Bashenga King, the first Black Panther. We release you. Glory to the ancestors."
The cup of libation is poured into the ground. The Dora Milaje grab ahold of the casket carved with the claws of the Black Panther. There's a gentle breeze pulling down at the hood of her loose fit white gown. Nova lowers her head, holding Nailahs hand. It is traditional that they follow the Dora Milaje through the city. Only instead she wished that the elders and the royal family did not have to wait for her to proceed at the start of the line.
"Mama?" Nailah tugged at her arm. Nova nodded rapidly. A tight knot formed in her throat. The breath caught between her lips quivered. Going forward meant starting over. To crawl underneath the sheets and seek the comfort from the silence. The sunsets she loved so dearly will now make her feel weary. The words left to be spoken now remain unspoken. It was too soon for the conversations to come to a halt and for the "I love you's" to no longer be exchanged. How much more did she have to lose to finally numb the wounds carved in so deeply?
A few steps is all it takes for the ground to become uneven. Nova gives Nailahs hand a gentle squeeze. Beating drums become clear once they set foot into the city. People are scattered all around dancing celebrating the Black Panther. They chant his name with pride.
"Mama, look" Nailah whispers, pointing up at the rooftop. Two drummers bang the instrument with all their might, bouncing back and forth between the two sets contently. Her eyebrows furrow together. The mural of T'Challa watches her. His beautiful rich umber coated skin shines well. Even his soft rounded eyes capture the angelic light within his soul. Nova raises her free hand up to her mouth to suppress a sob. Nailah takes notice of this.
When the singing and dancing comes to a halt it became clear that it was time to part. Nova did not want to say goodbye, but she knew she had no choice. So, she simply complied. The Dora Milaje carefully set down the casket. They stepped back allowing the royal family to say their final words. The kimoyo beads tied around their wrists tap against the vibranium casket as they laid their hand one by one. No matter how hard Nova attempted to find a reason to stay mad all she could do was find a reason to be sad. To be in love with him was a bliss. The memory of their first kiss now became a memory she would forever reminisce. It was not fair that he was taken. Why was she given such a cruel punishment that her children had to partaken?
"Abba" Nailah kneeled down to the dirt, calling out to her father one more time, but of course there was no response. Nova picked her up and began to soothe her. Shuri could not conceal her agony from this. The gut wenching tears that poured from her heart, weakened her stance. She laid her head down on the casket for her brother to come back. Nova could not bare to watch this. She turned her head away, biting down hard at the lip ring that was pierced into her skin. She focused on the metallic taste of blood that began to linger on her tongue. Nailah's soft cries became louder as the Royal Talon flyer hovered in the sky taking the casket away.
"Shh" Nova whispered, rubbing her back, "Everything's going to be alright. We're going to be alright."
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