lacrimal

Everywhere we needed to be, we could just walk there. The weather was perfect and the scene was perfect. The Alb@#$ family taking over the town, population 595.

It was my first funeral since my great grandfather's when I was just a kid. I still remember that I wore a black jumper dress with a bright yellow shirt under it. He said, "you do not need to come", but how could I not? Everyone involved was too important.

We arrived overdressed for the wake but I think she would have been happy I wasn't wearing something baggy. She lay in the corner and people commented about how nice she looked, comparing her to her condition in the hospital. That I missed. Every once in a while a tear would roll down a face but mostly we were laughing. Jokes were cracked, because that's what we do. And we remembered people and remembered times or were given new memories from our elders. Some things were exactly the same and some things were completely different.

When we walked to the funeral, we encountered the perfect scene of the the old man with longish hair in the back, a camper and the oldest country music you can imagine. He said hello with a nod of his head and then talked about the weather. I smiled because the picture could not be more predictable. I found it refreshing and familiar.

At the service I focused on thinking about anything but, trying not to listen, looking rapidly about. But I did not win. Each time I looked at him and thought of him and then looked at her, who was always there and saw that even he cried, I could not win. Instead, they first made their way to my nasal cavity because they had to go somewhere. No. We did not think of bringing tissue. Why did we think we were above tissue?

Why did he not come back? Why did that house have to be so sad now?