Tears of the Dead

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic
Devin, who has died, witnesses his eulogy said by his father that may reconcile their relationship with each other even if they aren't able to be apart of each other's lives anymore.

Submitted: March 29, 2014

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Submitted: March 29, 2014

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Tears. Sobs. Sadness. Everything you would picture at a funeral for the dead. The only thing I remember was a car and then... nothing.

 

I stand against a wall, peering over the living. They’re crying over nothing.

 

Even before I died, I never really cared. When my mom passed on, not a single tear fell from my cheek. My dad shunned me for not crying. This lead to the conclusion that I just hated her. Which was false. I just never really felt like there was a reason to mourn someone.

 

I slowly walk down the aisle of the church to my coffin. The coffin itself looked expensive and reeked of that perfume (you know, the one that makes you sick) and the roses that were elegantly aligned in its own gracefulness.

 

I then turned my focus from my coffin to my face. I gently laid my hand on my cheek, but my hand fell right through. I looked away, disgusted. I still can’t believe that I’m dead.

 

Just as the ceremony was about to begin, I found an empty seat in the front, next to my father. I quickened my pace and made my way through the pew and plopped down. I watched the minister slowly make his way towards the podium and began to ask for speakers. After a few minutes, no one went up. I looked over and saw my dad slowly get up, passing through the people in his pew. He shuffled over to the lectern and took a breath. I can still recall the noisily voice he had and snickered to myself.

 

“Thank You for all coming to my son’s funeral,” my father began, “I really do appreciate you all being here, willing to support us through these tough times,” my father wiped away a tear.

 

Yea right, I thought, You couldn’t give a shit about me, Old Man.

 

“My son, Devin, was a good boy, a boy who didn’t let anyone get in his way. And a boy I was happy to be able to call ‘my son’. I remember when one time we were waiting in line to get into a baseball game and he was so upset that we were so behind in the line, that he started shoving the other people out of line. They kicked us out afterwards, but the point was that he’s determined,”

 

I paused. What a joke.

 

He cleared his throat, “The minute my wife gave birth to him, she told me that he was special. She knew that he would leave his mark on the world. She knew that he would become something great,” He teared up a bit, “I never fully understood it, until just recently. When my wife died, he didn’t shed a tear. Not one drop of water sprung from his eyes. And I was so mad at him that I looked down upon him. But he was always such a strong-willed boy that I never really thought that someone who lost someone so important would not cry.I felt that he hated her, so much that he didn’t even care about her,” He shook, sweat rolling down his face and eyes looking in my direction.

 

“The day I got the call, it took me a while to sink in. I mean, the last thing we did was fight! And I never got to say good-bye. I never said goodbye to my only son! Do you know how hard it was? Coping with two deaths in the course of four months?”

 

I stood up and walked right through the pew towards my dad. With each step I took to the altar, I felt my heart beating out of my chest.

 

“Today, I change all of that!” He proclaimed, “This funeral isn’t just sending him away! This is my final goodbye to him here on this earth! So, I won’t cry because he’d get pissed at me if I were to bawl like a baby right now,”

 

Dad, I smile.

 

“I never got to tell him how much I loved him! How much he meant to me! How I never meant a word I said in our argument! I take it all back! He’ll never know how sorry I am!” He breaks down, “I’ll never get to see him grow up! Or get married or have children with a loving wife! I won’t get to see him graduate high school or college or find a profession! It all was thrown out the window because he stormed out of the house after our argument! It’s all my fault!”

 

I walked up to him and patted his back. You’re being a dork, Dad! It’s not your fault. Put yourself together though. I don’t want to be named the ‘son of a crybaby’.You said you won’t cry remember?

 

He faced down and clamped his hands together, fighting back the tears. He’s always been so sensitive. Hard to believe Mom put up with him.

 

“But despite all of our fights, I loved my son,” he smiled softly, the tears ceased flowing.

 

He took a step away from the podium and hunched over more than the Hunchback of Notre Dame. He then slowly walked back to his seat.

 

I stood at the front of the room, everyone’s faces were priceless. I laughed a little. I walked over to my dad and gazed at his wet face. The tears dripped all over his black suit and reddened under his eyes. The redness complimented his green irises quite well. I turned to the coffin, then toward my father. And I actually began to tear up. Everything started flooding back; our golf outings, our family dinners, our parties. And those creepy and awkward sex talks that he gave me when I got a girlfriend (I probably could have been fine without remembering that).

 

I braced myself when a single drop of water fell from the corner of my eye and slid down my cheek. I reached up to touch it, and my face beamed. Wiping the tear off, I slowly strolled over to the front of the room and looked at the people. Maybe death isn’t something worth being sad over, but rather a renewal of life. I was right to not cry about it but I think that they’re maybe something more to it.

 

I walk down the aisle. Oh well. I’m dead. I’ve got no more time to figure it out. I guess I leave another person the job. I chuckled. Some will come along and probably handle it for me.


I reached the back doors of the church and looked back to see my dad looking at me and smiling. I smiled back and faced forward, taking in the last breaths of the summer air before vanishing into the morning mist.


© Copyright 2020 Emma Brooks. All rights reserved.

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