Two
The Funeral
Standing alone in my childhood home knowing that I’d never see my father walk through those doors again saddened me. It all seemed like some cruel joke to me. I felt like my daddy had been ripped from my life and for no good reason. I sat down on the couch, grabbed a pillow and began to sob. Memories of him flooded my thoughts. Looking down the hallway, I remembered the piggy back rides to my room every night until I was too big to carry, and the races we would have from the end of the hallway to the kitchen on Saturday mornings. The loser had to make breakfast. A smile broke free briefly when I remembered the time he was running towards the kitchen and how he went sailing across the kitchen floor as soon as his foot hit the linoleum. Let’s just say he never made the mistake of wearing socks again during one of our races. When he finally came to a complete stop, it was because the wall put up a fight. When I realized he was okay, I laughed so hard I thought I might pee my pants.
God, I’m going to miss that man.
I heard my cell phone ringing, and it rattled me from my memories. Where was it coming from? Oh god, where’s my purse? I looked over towards my bags and on top of one of them I saw it. I hurried towards it, reached inside and pulled out my phone. It was Maggie, my roommate from Colorado.
“Hey, chick. How you doing?”
Maggie always had my back. She was someone I could always talk to and I was really missing her right now. We met in college and she had graduated one year before me. When she moved out to Colorado and got settled she begged me to come out as soon as I graduated. At the time, I had no reason not to go, and no reason to stay here.
“Hey, lady. I’ve been okay and I’ve not been okay.”
Right now, I feel like I have the entire world sitting on my chest. I could feel the sting of tears as I battled with myself to keep it together.
“I’ll be there tomorrow. I’ve taken a couple of days off work, so we’ll talk when I get there. Okay? I just wanted to call and make sure you made it there.”
“Thanks, Mags. I haven’t been here long. I’m about to go back out and meet with the priest and settle up on the arrangements. I’ll see you tomorrow. What time does your plane land?”
“Around eleven a.m.”
“Okay, I’ll pick you up. My daddy’s car, the one he hardly ever drove, is parked in the driveway, so I’ll be able to meet you.” It was a white Honda Civic. He used to drive it everywhere, but he had recently bought a new car and that was the car that he had his accident in. It had been torn completely in half. According to the police report, the car that hit him was going over a hundred miles per hour. Both drivers were killed instantly.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then. Take care, Lil.”
“Thank you, Mags, for coming. It means a lot to me.”
“Of course. Love you, chick.”
“Love you too.”
It was around 4:30 in the afternoon and I needed to meet with Father Dearing. It was going to be a Catholic funeral. I got ready, found my daddy’s keys and headed out. I was a bit early, so I waited for Father Dearing in the Sanctuary. Before stepping into the pew I knelt on one knee and made the sign of the cross. I pulled down the kneeler and immediately began praying. The church was beautiful. It was an older church with stained glass windows, each one depicting different images. The ceiling was painted like the sky and there were statues and candles toward the front and along the sides. It provided a peaceful ambiance that allowed an internal calm to sweep over me… kind of like a hug.
Father Dearing eventually came out and we made the arrangements. He prayed with me and over me. He had known me since I was a baby and he had known my father since before I was even born. He actually married my parents. It was comforting to talk with him. He always knew the right things to say and I was grateful to him in that moment. His words carried me through the rest of the evening and I was able to get some sleep, surprisingly enough.
Morning came and I picked Maggie up from the airport and brought her back to the house. I called Ms. Sophie like I said I would and gave her the information for the service.
On the day of the funeral, I had Maggie with me. There were a bunch of other people who came that I also knew. Ms. Sophie was there, and she also stayed by my side. My daddy had a lot of friends and it warmed my heart to see them all come to pay their respects. There was a lot of crying and a lot of hugging. After the funeral people began coming to the house. There was food and somber conversation, but then people started to leave and eventually it was only me, Maggie, and Ms. Sophie left in the house. The two of them put away the food that was left and cleaned up for me. I appreciated their friendship and couldn’t have gotten through it all without them.
I think Ms. Sophie was right. Maybe it was fate that we met on the plane that day.
Later, in the still of the night, the quiet of the dark, after everyone had left and I was alone again with only my thoughts, I wept. I wept for my daddy. I wept for the mother I don’t remember, and I wept for me. I wept for the loneliness, and I wept for the sorrow. I wiped my tears and dug in a bag that had my music CDs that Maggie was thoughtful enough to bring with her and I found my Civil Wars disc. I popped it in the player, turned the music down low, curled up on the couch and allowed myself to cry. I cried myself to sleep.