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Summer
July 17th, 1958
Samantha stared blankly at the dewy green grass by her feet. Her Mary Jane's were soaked and seeping into her socks, but it almost seemed fitting for a day like this. She should feel miserable, and she did. But it wasn't because she had lost someone she loved, she didn't really know Aunt Julia. She felt miserable because she had actively avoided the opportunity to get to know her aunt, and now she would never get the chance too. It had been a closed casket, and now she would never see her Aunt's face. The only memory she had of Julia was seeing her red hair shimmer brightly and boldly in the small crowd at the Quarrymen shows. The hair that was so similar to her own.
But that wasn't the worst of it all.
Samantha could see John in front of her, he was wearing a suit, one that fit him nicely and seemed like it cost a good amount of money. He stood behind his half sisters and step-father with his hands shoved into his pockets, looking slightly out of place from the mourning family. On his left, Eden stood. Her arm was looped through John's and she leaned her head on his shoulder as an act of comfort. John didn't react to her presence as he usually did with a smile or a kiss. Instead he slouched and stared stoically at the black casket being lowered into the ground. Throughout the entire funeral he didn't say a word, he just stayed expressionless, though Samantha could clearly see the redness of his eyes. The entirety of the morning, Samantha watched him, her heart aching. It was the pain that she knew John felt, the pain that she was so familiar with, that caused her to cry for him.
Next to Samantha, Maria clutched her handbag tightly with one hand. Her other hand held Mimi's. Both of the sisters had tears welling in their eyes. Samantha couldn't even imagine what her mother was feeling. Upon finding out about Julia's death, she retired to her room, and for an entire day Samantha didn't see her. George, Paul, and Samantha cooked some food up in the kitchen and left it in front of her bedroom door for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Samantha was relieved when each time she went to retrieve the plate, the food was eaten. This morning, she appeared dressed in a black dress with her hair curled and a face full of makeup, and told Samantha to put on the nicest black dress she owned. Maria shooed Paul and George to their own homes, told them to put on nice clothes for the funeral, and meet at John's house at Ten o'clock.
George and Paul had refused to leave Samantha's side for the last day and a half, and Paul protested when Maria told them to leave the house. Paul was now weary of letting Samantha walk the streets by herself knowing that Julia had been hit by a car. Though Samantha insisted that she was fine when walking to the bus stop and around town, Paul insisted he came with her. While Paul pestered her, George silently followed Samantha around, watching to make sure she was okay. When he noticed her begin to cry he would pull her into his chest and hug her until she stopped. When told to leave the Clarke home, Paul tried to come up with reasons as to why they should stay. George, on the other hand, made eye contact with Samantha and mouthed, 'Will you be alright?' to which she silently nodded. George pulled Paul away from Maria and dragged him out of the house. Samantha was extremely grateful for the pair of them, though Paul had been overbearing.
George and Paul stood to her right side now, their features both soft and sad as they watched the funeral unfold before them. Samantha let her gaze drift between John and the casket until the Pastor called everyone up to take a turn shoveling dirt to bury Julia. It was dreadful, watching John's little sisters cry as they buried their mother. John's face stayed the same as he gently took the shovel from his sisters, rubbing them on their backs comfortingly as he guided them towards their father. Samantha had never seen John be so gentle. He shoveled his scoop of dirt and dropped it into the grave, a single tear falling down his cheek as he stared down at the casket. He quickly wiped his tear away with his sleeve and silently handed Eden the shovel before walking away towards the trees that lined the cemetery. Samantha watched him, her breath starting to tremble as John retreated towards the trees. She remembered burying her father. She remembered his lifeless face and body laying in the casket, eerily still. It wasn't him. She knew it wasn't him. Her father would have smiled when he saw her, his chest would have moved up in down with breath, and his face wouldn't have been so pale. Samantha was grateful that this funeral was a closed casket. John didn't need to see his mother lifeless, limp, and pale, lacking anything that had ever made her human.
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