No one is there

Colder

I would've imagined it colder.

A Lot,

colder.

And darker.
More sad than I think it was.

In actuality, I was just empty.

Blindly greeting people walking through to the front.
Never actually being there, but not even feeling a thing.

I don't remember anything really,
I just know somehow I got from my house,
to the funeral home,
And from the lobby,
to the front bench,
where I'm next to my mother.

A sea of black behind me instead of in front of me for the first time in my life.

Family that doesn't deserve to sit here hauntingly close to my side.

Watchfulness from the room,
the speaker,
the family.

The only one not watching sits eyes glazed over trying as hard as she can to not be here in her head.

I envy her ability to check out from this, and I sit as stoney as I can remain to get through the service.

Again I don't remember how it happened but we got to sharing stories of his life.

I wanted to stand.
To scream and yell that no one actually knew him or ever understood him.
But I don't.

I don't stand to tell happy memories either,
and all of a sudden,
when I can't keep the screaming down,
one by one.

teachers,
neighbors,
people I never imagined,
Step up.
and show his real life through their eyes.

I don't have the tears down my face but I feel them behind my eyes.
Years later,
the only account from this will be these few stories that kept me sane.

And yet again,
I don't remember how it happened.

But I got from the service to the lobby,

shaking every hand goodbye.

To my house now missing the home.

And

eventually,

through to the rest of my life,

and finally,

just as I imagined,

it's much,

colder...

C. G.