Sad Post Final Part

 I went to his funeral. It was at 9 am. The church was filled here and there with people. There were people crying during the service. There were readings. There was the eucharist. His body was in a closed casket under a white sheet.

the burial took place right after. the day was hot. i was wearing a black shirt and black pants. we stood directly in the sun as people  shared last thoughts about him. there was a mariachi band playing.

i didn't cry.

his father stood in front of the casket and began to sing. the mariachi band played with him. his face contorted at every note. he lost his voice at times when he couldn't stop the tears from coming. he sang out his broken heart. i thought about the love of my father, and i cried.

overhead, i hear an airplane. i look up and spot a tiny gray shape fly over us. what a racket it makes! i think that maybe that's our life: a passing blip, and a loud splash of noise. the plane passes and is gone.

his mother cries violently. outbursts of grief hit her and i worry she'll never have control of herself ever again. i try placing my own mother in this woman's place, were it my funeral, but i just cannot. the image is too remote for me to imagine. so i just watch her cry.

we watch as they bury him. lots of people are gone now. before they leave, we form a line and threw handfuls of dirt into the grave. it doesn't mean much to me; i do it because everyone else is. i try attaching the feeling of the dirt on my hand with a feeling of mortality. I try making his death tangible by rubbing the leftover dirt between my fingers. But no deeper meanings come to me. I feel nothing.

they bury him. everyone leaves the family to themselves because it feels too personal to stay.

I would have regretted not going.

Rest In Peace.