funeral

I had never been to a funeral before. I’m sitting here in the pew as I watch different people wearing blazers walking up to IT. The casket. My parents talked about it in a van on the way here, they opened the casket up and let people see the body. I’m just confused, because if they already said goodbye to grandpa in the hospital, and his soul is gone from his body, why do people act like the body is still him? I’m sitting here in these pants and my tie and my little sister is sitting next to me. She’s slouching so much her feet are grazing the ground, and her wispy curls are sticking to the rough fabric on the bench from static electricity. I remember the balloon from yesterday’s school lesson. I made a note to not touch that area of the pew unless I wanted to get a shock. My grandma is looking in the casket now. She wipes her eyes with a wet tissue, and then says a few words to my uncle. None of the women next to the casket has eye makeup on, but black pencil around eyes starts to appear on more faces the farther away the people are sitting. My mom is not crying. It’s her grandpa, but she isn’t crying. I guess she’s just really good at being calm. My brother Malcom reaches forward and grabs one of the tiny orange pencils from the pew in front of him. My dad is talking to some guy in a dark red fedora. They both have the same stance. Their hands are in the pockets of their baggy church pants and are slightly facing towards the casket. I look back to see my brother poking holes in the fabric of the seats. “Hey,” My mom says under her breath, “Kids, let’s go outside.” 

Outside the air feels cool and sticky. My sisters both find a nearby hill and roll down it, giggling. I go to the playground and me and Malcom get onto the rocking thing. It’s basically an upside-down bar stool that’s connected to the ground by a tether, and two people get on and rock around. I tell him, “Let’s play where someone tries to stay on last.” Malcolm nods. I grip the edges of the handle and start rocking. Malcom loses his grip and falls off three times. His puffy pink shirt has come untucked but he’s ignoring it, even though mom told him it was too big and he had to keep it tucked. “Tuck in your shirt,” I say, “mom said you have to.” He looks at me with an over exaggerated stink eye and says “I don’t even wanna play.” He stalks away. I can’t believe it. He thinks that just because he loses a few times he thinks he can- “Kids, come back inside!” I hear my Mom call. She’s standing there with dad who has his hands on his hips.

The funeral is kind of like church, except the pastor says Brandon Joeseph Goldman at the beginning and end of his sermon. I never went up to see his face, I only saw his hooked nose coming out of the casket before it was shut and carried away. I thought about how our dog died last year and how we buried him under a tree with all his favorite toys. “Grandpa won’t be buried under a tree like Molly,” My dad said to me in the van. “He’s going to be buried in a cemetery, that’s where we’re going.” The cemetery was very big, filled with gray boxes and some statues. The casket looked weird closed, it spent so much time being open I kind of forgot the top part closed. It was getting really hot outside. Everyone was really quiet as the casket was lowered into the ground with this big machine. There was a man working it there, wearing an all black suit. He had a name tag on it that said Jerry. His phone in his pocket had a red case. I was sitting in the back, but I think I saw my mom lift a handkerchief to her eyes. I looked at my dad, but I couldn't really read him, especially because he was holding my sister whose big dress and hair made her take up twice the mass she usually did. 

The light was making everyone in the car look orange and I had to put my hand over my face because my eyes hurt when I looked out the window. Dad was telling us the red fedora man was meeting us for dinner at McDonalds, and of course everyone was shouting what they wanted to eat and asking how far away exactly McDonalds was. My mom was on her phone and I looked over her shoulder. She was texting. I slumped into my seat and I kicked off my shoes. “We’re here! Please stop asking me where we are!” My dad announced. I sat up and started to put my shoes back on. I heard a small pop and felt a tiny shock on my cheek. My sister’s hair was clinging to my cheek like tentacles. I rolled my eyes. I don’t really know if my mom actually cried. Maybe she did. I don’t know. Maybe.