Transcendance

25

Funerals are always sad. We were sitting at the top of the funeral as one of my great grandfather's granddaughters sings something in Nahuatl, but a different variant that the one my parents and I speak. Stephanie and the other kids are wearing black and wiping their eyes with tissues. My head hurt from crying as I leaned into my mother's chest. Ivan smoothed my back.

There was a photo of my great grandfather, his last one that he took for the Agency by his closed casket. Per Stephanie, he had requested a closed casket so we didn't have to see him still and dead. One of my great-uncles, Marcos, walked up to the podium.

"Alberto had too much disdain for the Catholic Church for us to hold a service for him there. So we honor him today as he would have wanted. With joy and music, with our ancestors, and with love." My uncle spoke. "He loved his family with all his heart. He was our patriarch, the one who held the family together since the death of his father before him. He was three years old when his father, Julian, brought the family to the United States to start a better life."

The man paused to wipe his face. "Alberto suffered through racism, colonial violence, and losing his father and grandfather at a young age. He met his beautiful wife when they were both sixteen and got married soon after. He raised four children and helped them raise their own kids. Even if most of us didn't become Hunters, he still loved and cherished all of us. He gave his love to his great grandchildren and his few great-great grandchildren he got the chance to meet. May he rest with our Father and ancestors in the afterlife."

Stephanie walked up to the podium.

"My father was a tough man but he loved all of us dearly. I know that he's at peace with Nana Minerva but the pain doesn't recede any less. I remember that he used to take us to the ice cream shop back in California every Sunday and get all of us a hot fudge sundae. I always looked forward to those days. I remember seeing him and my mother holding hands and walking as we played in the playground next door. I remember how he fell apart when his mother died. Now that was one of the four times I saw him cry." She sighed. "I will miss my father."

I saw Ivan walk up to the podium. There were tears in his eyes.

"My grandfather helped my parents raise my siblings and I." Ivan sighed. "We would spend our weekday afternoons at Nana Minerva and Tata Alberto's when my mother was doing night shift and my father was working at the chicken plant. My tata would always have stories to tell us about his missions as an Agent, his life as a young boy in the States. When I told him that Karenina was having Erika, he was thrilled. He was just as disappointed as when he found out that she was being adopted out. I wish that we had kept her so she could have gotten to know him better."

He walked up. I let go of Karenina and excused myself to speak at the podium. I could feel a tightening feeling on my chest. There were tears forming in my eyes again.

"Hi, I'm Erika, la adoptada (the adopted one)." My relatives chuckled.

"Esa si es de nosotros (This is one of us!)!" A man shouted in the back. There were more chuckles.

"I'll admit that I did not have the best impression of him when we first met. But as time went by, I got to know the man behind the steel curtain. He loved all of us, even me, that he barely knew. He was willing to fight for his family. He loved his family far more than he loved anything and that stood out to me. In my last moments with him, I saw this love shine brighter than ever. I'm glad that he was given ninety two years with us. Those ninety two years were a blessing to all of us. I hope that he is smiling at us from the afterlife and we'll be able to give him a big hug when we get there."

I walked away and there were a few people clapping. Soon enough, the pallbearers started to pick up the coffin and we all walked down the aisle behind them. As we walked out, we were greeted with a Mexican band playing one of his favorite songs by Ramon Ayala as they walked to where he was going to be buried.

I looked at the graveyard to see a yellow butterfly perched on one of the bunches of flowers they had sent us for him. I smiled as my great grandfather's soul materialized and waved at me, before vanishing.

"Farewell, tata." I say, feeling tears run down my cheeks. I wonder if I had access to seeing my deceased loved ones. If I did, that would solve my current fear of never seeing them again. I feel a hand on my shoulder. It was Ivan.

"Great job on that speech, by the way. I'm sure Alberto is smiling down on you." I nodded at him.

"I'm sure he is." If only, he knew. I go to the spot where they're lowering my great grandfather into the six foot hole. They were burying him besides my Nana Minerva. Someone starts to sing in Nahuatl again but the song itself sounds a lot more joyful than the other one.

"What's that song?" A cousin asked an elderly and short woman next to Karenina.

"It's Xochipitzahuatl." She says. "They played it at your Nana Minerva's funeral. Your uncle Ignacio thought it would be a nice touch for the funeral."

I sighed. That was sweet of them. I also thought of what this meant. My new Founder ceremony was coming up. Joy.