It feels so harsh.
It feels like the wrong thing to do.
Because it feels like that is all I have left of them.
And I’m hanging on by whatever threads are left.
As Phillip walks me to the limo, I tell him, “Phillip, I don’t know if I can do this part.”
And of course, Phillip and I can’t carry on a conversation because people are wonderful. They keep coming up to me, and hugging me, and holding my hands, and telling me what wonderful people my parents were, how sorry they are for me, how my parents are watching in heaven, all that stuff people say at funerals to try and make you feel better.
And it does. I know they are being sincere but, still, I have a horrible feeling of dread inside me.
Because this is it.
After we bury them, I am going to be all alone.
Phillip pulls me aside, next to the limo.
“Princess, you can do this. You’ve got this. You stood up there and gave that little speech without crying. This will be easy compared to that.”
I whisper, “But Phillip, this is not the easy part, because when they bury them, I am going to be alone. All alone.”
And, really, that is the part of all this that scares me the most.
Phillip tenderly cups my shoulder with his hand and pulls me into a hug, then he smiles at me, touches the tip of my nose with his finger, and says, “Don’t think you can get rid of me that easily. As long as I’m around, you’ll never be alone. I do have my reputation to uphold as your, uh, very, close friend, you know. Heck, I’m going to be around so much, you’ll probably be begging me to leave.” He gives me a sly little grin.
I give Phillip a little smile, but I don’t get to reply because Aunt Sara and Uncle John barrel between us and hop in the limo.
Phillip rolls his eyes at them, and then says, “I guess it’s time to go.”
I follow them into the limo and it takes all my strength not to pull Phillip in with me.
To protect me.
I have to sit with just them, as in just Aunt Sara and Uncle John, for the next part of the service.
I really don’t know why I agreed to it, but it was important to John that it be just family, so I did. I figured since I planned everything for the funeral of his brother without his input, it was the least I could do.
But now, I wish I hadn’t been so nice.
Especially when I get in the limo and Uncle John doesn’t say a word to me. On the ride to the cemetery, I thought maybe he would say something about how I was brave to stand up there and speak, which so many other people have said.
Or how amazing he thought the slide show was because it showed them as we all remember them, so full of happiness and life.
But, no. Nothing.
I don’t think I like Uncle John very much.
At the cemetery, I take my seat next to John under the tent covering the two freshly dug graves.
We wait for the twelve most important men in my life, the pallbearers, to get the caskets out of the hearses. There’s Mr. Diamond and Danny; my dad’s fraternity brothers, Mr. Mac, Scott, Lance, and Barry; my friends, Joey, Neil, and Brandon; my dad’s work friend, Jeff; and his best high school friends and weekly basketball teammates, Todd and Mike. I really thought my mom’s friends should be able to carry her casket, but it was explained to me that pallbearers are traditionally men, and I would be smart not to stray from that because caskets are apparently heavy. So I made my mom’s best friends honorary pallbearers, which I hope made them all feel special too.
Of course, Phillip was going to be a pallbearer. But when we were planning the funeral, they told me the pallbearers all sit together, which meant that I was going to be sitting in the front row all by myself.
Well. I mean, John and Sara were going to be there too, but I wasn’t expecting any love or support from them.
That’s when I begged Phillip to take on an even more important role.
When we were lying in the hammock, looking at the stars the other night because I couldn’t sleep, I told him that he’s been my rock through all this and asked if he would continue that most important job and please sit with me at the funeral and hold my hand, so I wouldn’t fall apart.
Actually, I kinda begged.
Something about having Phillip squeeze my hand helps me keep it all together.
The pallbearers each grab a handle, as the caskets are slid out of each hearse.
Then they start the long walk up the grassy hill. Before today, many of the pallbearers didn’t even know one another, but right now they look like brothers, all in dark suits and all with the same solemn look on their faces.
I forget what they told me the caskets weigh, but I remember them saying they were easily supported by six men. What they didn’t say was that the emotions they seem to be carrying are much, much heavier than the caskets ever could be.
They all look like they are carrying the weight of the world.
I’m sure that if I could see my own face it would probably look the same.
The pastor has started speaking and I’m trying to pay attention.
I listen to the words and prayers he says, trying to find some comfort in it. But, well, honestly, I’m not really feeling it.
Because, internally, I am freaking out.
The pastor asks us to stand for the final prayer, and I know it’s getting close.
As planned, the caskets will get lowered into the ground. John, Sara, and I are then supposed to sprinkle dirt over the top of each. Then we are supposed to slide one of the long stemmed roses out of the floral arrangement and drop it into the hole, as well.
I wanted to fight that part too.
I was fine with the dirt because I get the whole ashes to ashes and dust to dust thing, but the rose bothered me for some reason.
Throwing the rose in, I thought, would feel like it does when you throw a coin in a fountain and make a wish.
I mean, how sweet would it be if I could wish them both alive, throw the rose in, and have them pop out of their caskets, alive and laughing.
I don’t know. The rose feels wrong to me, but I agreed to do it.
I don’t know where my will power has gone.
I did ask why people throw the rose, and I didn’t really get a clear response. No one seemed to know why. They just knew people do it.
Finally, John got frustrated with me and told me it was out of respect. And you want to be respectful, don’t you?
But then I looked it up on the internet and found out the reason you stay to watch them get lowered into the ground is not out of respect. This process is supposed to be harsh and difficult for the mourners. It is supposed to force them to face the reality and finality of the death. Which in turn, is supposed to help the grieving process.
We’ll see about that.
All I know is when you start doing Google searches on caskets, pallbearer etiquette, and funeral traditions, something in your life has gone very wrong.
As you can imagine, lots of people have been giving me advice about how to handle this. About how to handle death.
And how to feel.
How to deal.
And I can’t remember all of it, but one piece of advice evidently stuck in my mind.
I was sitting on the couch at the Diamond’s house. We had all eaten dinner there and were getting ready to go to the visitation. Danny wrapped his arm around me, pulled me in tight, kissed the top of my head, and told me everything was going to be alright. Mrs. Diamond, who lost her own mother when she was only twenty-two, was sitting next to us giving me advice, but I was having a hard time concentrating because Danny looked so sexy that I wanted to just jump on top of him and start kissing him.
Sadly, I haven’t kissed Danny since the night of the party. With him going back and forth to Lincoln for classes and offseason football workouts and me being constantly surrounded by people who are worried about me, I haven’t even had a second alone with him.
But when I look over
and see two butterflies flitting around a nearby gravestone, well, I remember what she said. She told me to let myself see a little of God every day. And, for some reason, watching those butterflies offers me more comfort than any of the prayers.
But then, while I am standing there getting my courage up, I watch in horror as John and Sara walk up to the caskets, do what we were supposed to do, and then walk away.
Uh. Hello!?
Wait a minute!
They were supposed to wait for me.
We were supposed to do that together!
And then, boom!
All my comfort and courage are gone.
I seriously feel like I could faint, or puke, or die myself.
I am frozen in my spot, and I want to scream out loud.
I can’t do this!
I can’t handle this!
This is so not the way my life’s supposed to be!
I am not supposed to be burying my parents!!!
The pastor clears his throat to get my attention. He is waiting impatiently for me to come up and do what I am supposed to do.
He might as well have yelled at me, Move it, missy. It would have felt the same.
I know you’re probably not supposed to cuss at a religious ceremony, but I can’t help but scream aloud in my head, Shit!
My hands start to shake, and I think my head may explode.
I am also seriously contemplating jumping into the dirt myself so they can just bury me with them.
I feel a hand on my back, turn my head, and there’s Phillip.
“I can’t do this,” I whisper.
“We’ll do it together, okay?” The same words I used on his dad at the hospital.
Phillip holds my hand and guides me up to the caskets.
Well, maybe pulls me up to the caskets is a more accurate description.
I am seriously shaking.
He gives me a handful of dirt, and together we sprinkle some dirt on the caskets.
And I don’t know where it comes from, maybe the butterflies, but I decide to stick to my guns.
I pick out two roses, put them up to my nose and breathe in their wonderful smell, but I don’t drop them into the dirt.
I can’t.
I’m keeping them.
Taking them home with me.
I’m sorry, but I don’t need any more harsh reality.
I’ve had enough of that.
So I repeat the mantra I’ve been telling myself all week, through the planning, the visitation, and the funeral.
Don’t lose it. Stay in control. Put on your game face and get through this.
You can do it.
And now, with Phillip holding my hand, I think maybe I can.
We turn away from the caskets, toward everyone. I take a deep breath, clamp my back teeth down tight, hold my head up high, and walk away from my parents for the very last time.
And I didn’t know it, but apparently after I dropped the rose, the people who attended the graveside service were supposed to come up and do the same thing.
Say goodbye and drop a flower.
But they don’t.
They follow my lead.
When people start coming up to me to give me their condolences, most all of them are also carrying two flowers.
And I realize I started a trend.
I look around the cemetery grounds and see that nearly everyone mingling about is taking two flowers home with them. For their own, in remembrance.
And that comforts me more than the butterflies.
God, I am going to miss them.
Even Mr. Mac, who comes marching up to me because he is furious with John, is clutching two roses in his hand. He tells me, “JJ, you’re riding home with us and not in the limo with that jerk, John. I can’t believe he just left you up there by yourself. Some family.”
He shakes his head at John and herds me to their car.
The funeral luncheon is at the Mackenzies’ house. It has a much lighter tone because for everyone here, the worst is over. But I know that when everyone leaves, my worst will be just beginning.
Because, regardless of how sweet Phillip is, now I'm alone.
Truly alone.
Last night, Uncle John offered to take me back to Seattle with him. I don’t know John that well. I see him once a year, if I’m lucky. I’m not sure why, but he and Dad weren’t that close. All I’ve ever heard him say is something about John being selfish and only worrying about himself.
I never used to understand, but I get it now.
Phillip’s mom was not happy about his offer.
Here’s how the conversation went:
“JJ is staying here with us. That’s what her parents wanted,” Mrs. Mac said firmly.
“JJ, you’re eighteen. You can do anything you want. I think it would be good for you to get away from all of this for a while. Get a fresh start,” Uncle John said, scowling at Mrs. Mac.
Mrs. Mac grunted. “Well I disagree. JJ, you need to stay with us. We love you.” Then she cried.
How come everybody around here can cry so freely? People must think I’m a horrible daughter because I haven’t cried since the hospital.
I just haven’t been able to.
I’m either very callous or still in shock.
Or something might be seriously wrong with me.
Or maybe not. I think it’s just that I have become an empty shell.
My body is still here, true, but I’m pretty sure most of me died when they did.
And an empty shell should not be fought over, so I pretended to be grown up and replied diplomatically with something like, “I need to stay here and finish high school, Uncle John. Maybe I could visit this summer?”
It’s getting late and by now most of the funeral-goers have left. I’m sitting out on Phillip’s front porch, alone for a few minutes. It feels good to just sit here in the rocking chair, not having to be polite, not having to say, I’m fine, when I’m about to fall to pieces.
Danny strides through the front door.
I know that I’m in mourning, but mourning or not, the boy is overwhelmingly hot.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey,” I say back. “Please don’t ask me how I’m doing or I may have to hurt you. I’m tired of lying and saying fine.”
“Do you know that in the last two days Phillip and I counted you being asked how are you over 167 times? Then we lost track.”
“It feels like it.”
He grins at me. “So, how are you?”
I roll my eyes at him. “Fine.”
Phillip told me that Danny and Jake hadn’t done all that much fighting. Evidently Jake ended up with just a black eye and that was courtesy of the pipeline. I’m so glad Danny wasn’t hurt. Phillip was right about that. I never should’ve let him risk getting hurt for something so stupid. I mean, if I have learned nothing else throughout this whole ordeal, it’s that life can change in the blink of an eye.
Danny takes my hand, pulls me up, and wraps me into a hug. I practically melt against him. Then he pushes my chin up with his hand and kisses me deeply.
My mind is immediately rendered incapable of thought. It’s the first time in days that my brain has finally shut up and stopped thinking.
Now this is my kind of therapy.
Kissing Danny feels so good. I’d really hoped we’d kiss again. I mean, on the phone it sounded like he wanted to, but this is the first time we have.
“You’ve been amazing through this, Jay. I’m proud of you. Quite honestly, I’m not sure how you’re doing it.” He smiles and winks at me. “But, then, I always knew you weren’t a prissy wimp.”
“Not always,” I say, reminding him of what he thought of me when he first moved here.
“Well, nearly. Anyway it didn’t take you long to convince me.”
I smile in spite of myself, and feel a chink in the armor I’ve been wearing.
“Thanks, Danny.”
“Seriously, how are you holding up? And no bullshit answers
this time.”
“Honestly, I don’t know how I’m doing, Danny. But when you just kissed me, I felt alive for the first time in days.”
He grins big at me and pulls me into another long kiss.
Then he says, “We haven’t really had the chance to talk about the party. I wasn’t sure what you were thinking. What are you thinking?”
“Um, well, I mean, you told me on the phone that it wasn’t just about making Jake jealous, but I guess I have felt a little awkward around you. I didn’t know what you were thinking.”
He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me into a tight hug. A much different hug than the hugs I have been getting all day. Those have been the kind of hugs where just your shoulders and arms touch. This is the kind of hug where your hips touch, your stomachs touch, and you feel like your bodies are molded together.
“This doesn’t feel awkward to me,” he says and kisses me some more.
“Danny, why did you kiss me at the party?” He is still holding me close, and I am praying no one comes outside and interrupts us.
“I don’t know. I felt like it.”
“That’s it. You felt like it?”
“No, I mean, that didn’t come out right.” He sighs. “Jay, truth be told, I’ve maybe been wanting to kiss you for a while. And I got there, and you looked hot, and then you had that cute meltdown, so I kissed you. And it was amazing, and I was having fun and thinking this could be something, and I should have just taken you home with me, but instead I thought we’d mess with Jake first, and then the fight happened, and then Phillip whisked you out of there, and then your parents—and I haven’t gotten to talk to you about it. And every time I see you, Phillip is holding your hand, and everyone thinks you two are together, and I just keep thinking it should have been me there. Holding your hand, making you feel better. Why did you ask Phillip to sit with you and not me?”
“I didn’t do it to upset you. I wanted everyone to sit with me, but they told me pallbearers had to sit together.” Then I eye him. “Were you jealous?”
He nods a little and rolls his eyes up to the ceiling, looking uncomfortable.
“Danny, I asked Phillip because I know exactly where I stand with him. He’s been part of my life forever. He’s like a brother to me. And he has this way of calming me down, of relaxing me.” I look at him with a naughty grin. “You don’t exactly relax me.”
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