Where did you go?

Amos asked himself this question every time he saw himself in a mirror -- sure, he was the same person, in the same place -- but everytime he saw his reflection he knew he'd changed a bit. He wasn't the same person he was last week, yesterday, or even that morning.

It's funny how quickly your experiences change your outlooks. He had once been a young man, full of energy and invincible -- now his body  had more wear on it than one would expect for only 36 years. His entire life he had worked hard labour jobs, never sticking around for too long. He had fought in the Great War, surviving the Battle of Belleau Wood, though barely. He'd had friends die from war, and from disease, and what friends he had left he could count on one hand. 

There was a seedier element in his life too, one he found before the war started. Amos was approached at the docks while working one day by a representative of one of the local gangs. They were  a small outfit, associated with the mafia, running booze and a couple illegal gambling dens. The work started off simple, running messages, driving people around the city, and working as muscle for the gang.  He began working his way towards officially joining the gang when the war began. Amos wasn't the patriotic type -- in fact he was indifferent about most of those things -- but he had a violent streak. He didn't enjoy hurting people, but he excelled at it, so he decided to go to Europe to fight.

That was 14 years ago now. Today Amos wakes up to the morning sun peaking through his shades. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and prepares for a long day. His joints sore and his mind foggy he heads to the kitchen to make himself breakfast -- eggs and toast. When he returned from the war he had a hard time reconnecting with the gang, and was working side jobs. Money was tight, but he had plans to see a friend from the war today, a friend who was connected -- a friend who had been trying to get him some work.

He shaved, put on his best suit and headed through the door into the bright sunlight, crisp May air biting at his cheeks. On his way through the streets of Brooklyn he stopped by a florists and purchased a bouquet and heads toward where his friend was waiting. Amos was hoping to make some connections, and start earning money again -- legitimate life hadn't been working for him, so he was turning to the gangs again.

Amos arrived, walking through the doors of the Church and took a seat at one of the pews near the back...

"Today..." the priest began "we are gathered to pay our respects to Cooper..."

Amos' friends numbered one fewer today, but if war had taught him anything, it's to move forward even when those around you die... he scanned the room seeing many prominent gangsters about and knew he was in the right place...

After the priest finished preaching, Kenny got up from his seat and walked towards Cooper's casket. It was open and he was dressed with a fancy suit. Kenny laid his left hand on the casket and breathed heavily. He and Cooper were just starting to know each other. When the war hit, Cooper quickly geared up and went to fight while Kenny was chilling in his cell with his prison boyfriend Damon. On his right hand, there was a single rose. Kenny stared at it for a few seconds.

"I can do better than a rose." Kenny threw the rose on the ground and reached for the pockets of his coat. He grabbed his flask of whiskey and opened it up. Looking at Cooper's dead body, he took a sip out of it and spilled some whiskey on the floor next to the casket. After doing that he closed the flask and leaned forward, placing it besides Cooper.

"Rest in peace brother. I'll always remember you and The Five Points Gang. You died as you lived, honorably. Well fought."

Kenny turned back and left the church.

Roxie sat in the church waiting for her turn to speak.  She had been asked and with great honor accepted the task of presenting the eulogy for Don Cooper.  When the priest gave her the nod that it was her turn she slowing made her way to the podium. She gained her composure and slowly started to speak.

Ladies and Gentlemen it’s an honor to be a part of celebrating the life of Don Cooper.

Do not weep for Don Cooper for he has not gone.
He’s the wind that shakes the mighty Oak.
He’s the gentle rain that falls upon your face.
He’s the spring flower that pushes through the dark earth.
He’s the chuckling laughter of the mountain stream. 

Do not weep for Don Cooper for he has not gone.
He’s the memory that dwells in the heart of those that knew me.
He’s the shadow that dances on the edge of your vision.
He’s the wild goose that flies south at autumns call and he shall return at summer rising.
He’s the stag on the wild hills way.
He’s just around the corner.

Therefore, the wise weep not.
But rejoice at the transformation of his Being.

Again Roxie had to gain her composure and keep going.

In the short time I was at Don Cooper’s right side it was a wonderful experience.

Don Cooper was a good man.  He was a well respected man, a man of great honor and loyalty.

He will be truly missed by so many of us.  Thank you.

Amos listened the the eulogy of his old friend and smiled. It was a beautiful eulogy, the words heartfelt and kind. Amos thought to himself that Cooper may have felt like all of this was unnecessary, he never was one to be the center of attention. Then again, he went out and caught a bullet so he doesn't have much say in it anyways. 

Amos approached the casket slowly, looking upon his old friend one last time. He lay peacefully, almost as if sleeping, in a finley tailored suit, arms rested upon his chest -- curiously there was a flask at his side. Amos regretted not coming back to New York sooner, not joining his brother in arms earlier -- maybe if he had been there he could have helped... 

Taking one final look at his old friend, Amos placed the bouquet on the casket and turned back to the mourners. He saw the woman who had given the eulogy,  Roxie he though,  talking to a man, both of them sharply dressed in black.  He stepped down from the platform where the casket was and approached them both.

"I'm sorry to interrupt" he said, looking at them both "and I know neither of you know me, but I'm a friend of Cooper's going way back my name is Amos."

"Roxie" the woman said, extending her hand. Amos shook it and smiled, "and I'm Kenny Russo" the man replied. Amos shook his hand as well, not wanted to take up too much of their time he quickly continued.

"For the last few weeks Cooper and I were writing letters, he mostly talked about the gang he was starting" Amos said. "He wrote about the process of starting it, the expenses he paid, the stresses involved... but he also wrote about the people in the gang... he prominently wrote about you two" 

"As you know he was newer to this life than most, and he complained about how at times he felt he didn't know what he was doing things correctly, or if they were even the proper things to do. However, while he complained about his frustration, he always praised you two for being ready to help, and that you had provided him with guidance and counsel when he needed it most" 

"I'm sure if Cooper were still here, he'd want you both to know that he counted you as friends, and that he would be grateful to you two, and all the others who provided him with so much for the time he was here." 

Feeling he had said his peace, and not wanting to further intrude on their conversation Amos nodded his head, and stepped back from the conversation, looking on to others in the room to talk with.