Funeral

   ”F**k, I hate funerals.” 

   My hands are shaking as I fail, for the fourth time, to tie the tie. I throw my hands up into the air and sigh. She notices me as she always does and sits down by my side on the bed, kissing me gently on the neck. With sure hands she ties it for me, and hugs me. 

   ”I hate them too. An hour, then it’s done.” 

   ”It’s not that the funeral itself is bad, that I can handle. I just can’t stand the idea that my best friend is gone forever.”

  ”I know, baby. I know.” She hugs me and lets me vent my frustations without saying anything. Sometimes I wish I had her supernatural ability to just know what to do and when to do it. Goddamn superwoman. 

   ”It’s time to go.” She says softly and rises from the bed. I glance out of the hotel window, nodding. The sun is rising above the skyline, meaning it’s nearing noon. It will be a warm day, at least, no rain to bring you down even further. The car is waiting in the parking lot. It’s only a five hour drive from Marathon to Indianapolis, so taking a flight felt a bit unnecessary. We sit down in the car, her driving. It was not an audible arrangement for her to, she just wanted me to be able to relax. It is not long from downtown Indianapolis to the chapel, maybe twenty minutes by car. Most of it is spent in silence. 

   It is somewhat ironic that I feel like I’m on the verge of breaking down completely while George Harrison sings ”All things must pass” on the radio. I guess he is right, only the thought will not compute right now. 

   ”When did they tell you the first time?” I ask quietly. She looks over slightly and wrinkles appear on her forehead. 

   ”What do you mean, I was with you when you got the call.” I shake my head. 

   ”Not that. The funeral proceedings.” 

   ”Oh, I see. My grandfather died when I was seven. The day before the funeral my mother took me aside and told me that after the ceremony there was some time alotted. Those who wanted could go into a small chamber and have one final goodbye with the dead. He looked so proud of me then, and I think I didn’t really get it was the last time. And before we entered I thought she meant a different kind of goodbye. Imagine being seven and finding that out.” She can not help but laugh, and so do I. It feels good to laugh. I’ve done it too little lately.

   ”What did you tell him?” I ask as the laughter dies down. 

   ”Goodbye. My mother was with me, and she did most of the talking. I just… gave him a hug and said goodbye before being ushered out. And that was that. Are you worried?” The answer was clear. 

   ”Of course. I mean, if I say the wrong thing then that is that, as you say.”

   ”You won’t.” She sounds so sure of it. We ride in silence the rest of the way, just looking at the nature around us. 

   The chapel is a medium sized white building, with a sign hanging on top of it to declare that it is indeed a funeral home. There is already a small crowd gathered outside. We park the car and approach. So many friends that you have not seen in so long. Saying hello to them feels almost like a goodbye as well. I guess you understand how frail everything is when you have a death close to you. 

   ”Hi.” His mother says softly, hugging me. She has tears in her eyes. Her husband stands behind her, keeping his eyes dry with much effort. ”You know, before… before the accident, we were having dinner together. He said he was going to give you a call when he got home, that he missed you. I know you know, but he loved you dearly.” 

   Somehow I manage to keep the tears in, but I hug his mother closely again. We part ways with his parents, and they take a seat at the front row. I sit down on the third row, and she sits down next to me, keeping my hand firmly in hers. 

   It is a beautiful ceremony, truly. And thankfully it is a fast one, or at least it feels like it. The songs we sing seem to fill the chapel completely, almost channeling his spirits as we sing. On his girlfriends request we sing a song dedicated from her to him, though she seems to regret it as she breaks. 

   ”I’m glad that you stayed.” I mouth as the song comes to a close. I vaguely remember him saying how it was their song. I listened to it a couple of times, but it was never my taste. 

   Suddenly the priest says ”Amen” for the last time and we are herded towards a room in the back. I stand there, alone with his parents and girlfriend. There is only a limited number of meetings, and I will understandably go last. The parents go in and come out red-eyed, as does his girlfriend. The priest puts his hand on my shoulder. 

   ”I understand how you feel. You don’t have to, if you don’t want. They understand.” I shake my head. 

   ”No, I’t would not feel right.” A deep breath and then I step through the door. The room is quite large and open, with two chairs and a sofa. There is a table in the middle. I take three steps and the tears flows. There is no stopping them now. 

   In the middle of the room he stands, a faint smile on his lips and dressed in his Monday bests. I can barely see him through the tears. 

   ”Why?” I manage to squeeze out as he embraces me. He even feels real. Feels alive. ”Why just you? Why not someone else?” I have no idea how long we embrace for, nor am I really aware that it ends. When I’m aware of myself again we stand in the middle of the room, facing each other. He still smiles. 

   ”It is simply fate.” 

   ”F**k fate, couldn’t you live?” Again he smiles, and even laughs. 

   ”I can’t really explain it, but it is right this way. Trust me. Don’t mourn me, but remember me. The good things I would do, do them. I love you, man.” We embrace again. The tears have stopped. 

   ”I’m sorry for making you cry. I think I ruined your suit.” He says as we embrace, and I find myself laughing. It is such a stupid thing to say, just as he would. 

   ”How can you be so cheerful. I mean, you miss out on life!” He chuckles. 

   ”I’ve had some time to think about it. I think I understand the heaven that I’ll go to. I will simply pass through that door, and then on the other side I will find you. Because heaven is what I want it to be. And I can’t imagine life without you all.”

   ”Are you sure?” He still smiles, and it is as if I understand, all of a sudden. 

   ”It is paradise, is it not? I imagine I’ll open my eyes and find you there. Because that is what heaven is to me.” 

   ”Alright.” I nod. ”See you soon, then.” 

   ”Soon. But not too soon for you, I hope.” 

   ”No. I’ll keep you in mind from time to time, and when I finally wake up we’ll meet again. For real.” 

   ”For real.” 

   We embrace for a third and final time and I exit the room, catching one final glance at him as he passes through the other door. The priest is waiting for me on the other side. 

   ”Are you alright?” 

   ”Yes, I think so.” 

   The drive back home from Indianapolis to Marathon is not as hard as I thought it would be. Everything feels… better, somehow. It is better because I know that he is with me. 

Reviews

[Delmar Cooper]

(Read this after just finishing the Mustang story)

This is a better story than "Cherry Red". There is still the "writer ambushes reader" ending, but it is lightly hinted at and not the huge shock it might have been otherwise. It is still an ambush. The words are not rationed as tightly as they are in most short stories. The boring road trip is made useful to the story and thus no longer a boring road trip. Excellent "picture worth a thousand words" writing in this one.
I hope you are not finished with this. I believe with some revision it could end up anthologized in Literature text books for years to come. Bear in mind, I don't know s**t from Shineola.
Thanks for sharing.