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February 2016


It was unusually warm for the time of the year. It was one of the only things AJ really noticed. The people were almost all dressed in a dark blue colour and still the thought that the funeral had a dress code specifically pointing out blue and forbidding black, seemed funny to AJ. He therefore assumed it had been Brian’s own idea. The notion that Brian had taken the time and effort to think about his own funeral was nauseating though, so AJ pushed the thought out of his mind. Still, he couldn’t hear a word the reverend said.

In fact, he hadn’t really heard a word of what anyone said these last few days.

The news had come as a shock, and he knew it shouldn’t have, but it had. He’d visited Brian in the hospital twice in the last month and the second time it had been very clear that his friend was going downhill fast. Yet still, AJ had never believed that it would have been the last time he’d ever see Brian. He still couldn’t believe it, and it had been a week. AJ had cried and screamed and had demolished the entire living room after Brian’s dad had called. And after that, he’d turned numb. He refused to let his mind wonder about what it meant. He refused to acknowledge the fact that now everything had changed. He remembered his wife’s concerned face when he’d broken down, but hadn’t been able to tell her what was going on. It had felt as bad as the time he’d heard his grandmother had died.

No.

Worse.

Granny had been 85; Brian was 40. Nobody should die when they were 40. And nobody should ever die the way Brian had. Drained slowly of all life, left blind and scared in a hospital bed. AJ tried to stop them, but the dark thoughts found their way into his mind regardless. He wondered if Brian had been able to experience his last moments, or if the real Brian had already been long gone. The second time AJ had visited, there had only been a brief moment of recognition, but it had been enough. He remembered the begging eyes, the pain he saw there, the longing for an end.

He felt sick.

He looked up when everybody suddenly stood. Apparently it was time to go outside. The morning was still early, but the air was warmer than you would imagine in February. The crowd wasn’t particularly large; only close friends and family. It was very intimate and somehow, AJ felt like an outsider. There was so much he’d still wanted Brian to know. So much left to say.

So many loose ends to tie up. It didn’t make sense. He felt like he didn’t belong here, that he needed to say goodbye properly before he attended the funeral.

But there was no more time.

AJ had been the one that had made the announcement on behalf of the Backstreet Boys. It had been the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. He remembered every single word of it and when he spoke them, it had felt like the end of an era. He remembered the shocked and tearstained faces of the few fans that had been present during the conference. They had had no idea what had really been going on and AJ had broke their hearts with every word. And yet, he hadn’t been able to say those final words out loud. He hadn’t. He couldn’t. It had been in the carefully laid out script he’d been given, but he couldn’t do it. And therefore, the phrase had been repeating inside his head over and over and over for the past few days. Our beloved friend, brother and bandmate passed away on January 30th 2016 at the age of 40 years.

He felt himself begin to shake and his wife’s reassuring hand on his arm as they walked towards the door, joining the line of blue people. AJ thought he caught a glimpse of Baylee’s head at the front of the queue and he had to give it to the boy; he was able to hold himself. AJ saw the resemblance with the boy’s father and a painful pang shot through his chest. He didn’t know if the pain would ever lessen and he didn’t know if he’d wanted it to. It hurt like hell, but it was supposed to. He averted his gaze when his friend was lowered into the ground. He couldn’t watch. What kind of person assumed he could just sit and watch? He squeezed his eyes closed, not stopping the tears that leaked out, and not trying to.

An ear piercing screech cut through the solemn air and AJ reopened his eyes to see Leighanne on her knees, head in hands and shoulders heaving. She was a widow now, AJ realized, and had the suspicion that she was realizing that now as well. The sounds that came from her were animalistic and primal and AJ felt like joining in, yet nobody else seemed to acknowledge the wailing woman next to the grave. AJ watched the restrained faces of the other people; Baylee’s barely repressed helplessness, Kevin’s silent tears, Howie’s broken expression, Brian’s parents, who were holding on to each other in silent grief, his brother Harold’s quiet sobs and Nicks vacant, lost gaze that stared into nothingness.

It was all damn depressing.

And AJ started to wonder: was this the funeral Brian would have wanted? A clear answer to that was no. Brian wanted them to sing, to throw flowers at him and remember the important things in life; the ones you loved and the suddenness with which you could lose them. And AJ had thrown flowers at his friend, and he did remember the ones he loved. But he’d refused to sing. So had the others. It hadn’t felt right then, but now he started to wonder why. Leighanne’s cries echoed over the cemetery and AJ shook his head and cleared his throat.

“I heard there was a secret chord,” he began, his voice broken and quiet and raspy and barely audible over the widow’s distress. AJ paused, trying to rake up the courage to continue with a louder, stronger voice, but knowing he would fail miserably. He cleared his throat again, trying to ignore the sobs that threatened to take him over and drown him for good, “That David played and it pleased the Lord...”

A few heads slowly turned his way, but AJ kept his gaze forward, “But you don’t really care for music, do you?”

He swallowed, trying to control his breathing, like years of vocal training had taught him to. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, but didn’t mind, “It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth, the minor falls and the major lifts...” He stopped, choking on the last word, his shoulders shocking and his wife’s arms encircling him as she guided his head to her chest. AJ closed his eyes and cried, suddenly unable to stop.

“The baffled King composing Hallelujah,” another voice picked up the melody and AJ looked up slightly to see Howie’s tense, determined face as he continued the song. “Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah.”

His voice was high and surprisingly clear, given the situation. The utmost concentration that Howie expressed while singing was astonishing and soon enough, AJ found himself joining back in.

“Your faith was strong, but you needed proof,” their voices blended and the harmonies were carried out instinctively. It sounded eery, yet beautiful, although AJ knew that they would be shunned off a stage immediately for sounding so wrecked and quiet.

Leighanne had silenced and the cemetery was now completely silent, apart from their voices. “You saw her bathing on a roof, her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you.” Brian had wanted music, he’d wanted love. As AJ continued the song, it seemed to flow on its own, like he’d only needed to open his mouth for the words to roll out. He looked straight at Howie and saw the other man felt the same way.

“She tied you to her kitchen chair; she broke your throne and cut your hair,” For a moment, AJ had to close his eyes to keep singing, to drown out everything that was going on, “And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah.” He was surprised to suddenly hear Kevin join in and even though the older man’s voice was a mess, Kevin still took the lower harmony faultlessly and sang along. “Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah.” The three voices resounded through the trees and the hairs on AJ’s neck were standing straight up, and he let the haunting melody flow through him. By the start of the third verse, Nick was finally joining as well, although his voice was barely more than a mumbled whisper, “You say I took the name in vain, I don’t even know the name.” AJ nodded to himself, closing his eyes again; this felt right. This was exactly what Brian had meant. It didn’t have to sound on point, the emotion and perception far out ruled any technical failures. “But if I did, well really, what’s it to you?” AJ let his gaze wander over the cemetery, through the trees. It was still completely silent; no wind rustling, no cars rushing, just this one solemn moment in time that AJ would remember forever. “There’s a blaze of light in every word, it doesn’t matter which you’ve heard. The holy or the broken Hallelujah.”

And then he couldn’t. AJ wasn’t exactly sure what suddenly went wrong, but he couldn’t sing another word.

The others went on, while he stood frozen, realising that the harmony was missing a crucial part and that the spot would never be filled again. That they would never sing as five again. Never. A strange, strangled sound escaped him and he let himself collapse against his wife. Unprepared, they both sank to the ground. AJ tried to shut it all out, the voices of the other men wavering and failing now. It wasn’t right. They needed to be five; it was the only thing that had made sense for so long. He let out a strangled, panicked cry and felt the arms around him tighten. Rochelle wouldn’t let him go, she wouldn’t let him come undone completely, even if that was what was needed. She’d hold on to him, while he shook and cried.

And then, there he was. As AJ looked up, he saw him. About thirty feet away, under that thick, bare tree. The sun shone down on his hair, seemingly giving his entire appearance a kind of golden glow. AJ looked at him, amazed. The figure didn’t move and when AJ blinked, he was gone.