Brushstrokes of Obsession | BXB

Goodbye Old Man

Montey sat in the front row of the church sanctuary, staring blankly at the mahogany casket adored with flower arrangements. The church choir had just finished singing, their voices filling the air with a powerful and uplifting melody. The mourners, filled with the holy spirit, cried out and clapped their hands, their emotions pouring out in a wave of shared grief and celebration of life for his father.

Montey's mind, however, was elsewhere. Their relationship had always been rocky, filled with more arguments than moments of understanding. His father had been a stern, unyielding man who had rarely shown affection. Montey could only recall a handful of moments when they had connected on a deeper level.

Montey glanced around the sanctuary, his gaze sweeping over the faces of family and friends. He felt disconnected, as if he were an observer rather than a participant in this moment of grief. He wanted the service to hurry up and end so he could escape the heavy atmosphere and the weight of the unresolved emotions.

A sudden, wrenching sob broke through his dreamy state, pulling him back to the present. His mother, sitting beside him, was crying uncontrollably. Her grief was raw and intense, shaking her slender frame. The sound of her agony pierced Montey's heart, filling him with a sense of guilt for being so lost in his own thoughts.

He reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently. "It's going to be okay, Ma," he whispered, though he couldn't relate to her pain. She laid her head on his chest, her tears soaking through his shirt as she cried her eyes out. Montey held her close, his hands trembling slightly as he wiped her face with tissues.

A church usher noticed their distress and came over to assist. "I'll bring her a bottle of water" she spoke softly, her eyes full of concern.

After a few minutes, with the bottle of water in hand the usher returned standing in front of them handing off the water. Montey gently urged his mother to take it. "Here, Ma, take a sip. It'll help."

She nodded weakly, taking a few sips before resting her head back on Montey's chest. He continued to comfort her, feeling a mixture of helplessness and responsibility. He couldn't share her deep sorrow, but he could be there for her, offering what assistance he could.

The pastor stood up to give the eulogy. His voice was strong and clear as he began to speak about Montey's father. Montey forced himself to stay present, feeling the weight of his mother's head resting on his chest, as he rubbed her back in a circular pattern. He held her tightly and close, feeling the tremble of her body with each sob.

"Craig was a man of great compassion," the pastor said, his tone warm and admiring. "He was a man of God and full of wisdom."

Montey couldn't help but let out a light chuckle, blowing air through his nose. To him, it felt like the pastor was talking about a totally different man.

"He was always there for his family," the pastor continued, "a guiding light and a source of strength."

Montey's mind flashed back to their countless arguments, the harsh words exchanged, and the feeling of never being good enough in his father's eyes. He chuckled again, this time a bit louder, a bitter sound that spoke volumes about the disconnect he felt. A few loved ones glanced at Montey, sensing his discomfort, but he kept his gaze fixed on the casket, his expression a mix of sadness and frustration.

After the eulogy ended, the pastor along with the assistant pastors, descended from the pulpit. They approached the front row where Montey, his mother, and other close family members sat. One by one, the pastors shook hands, offering their condolences.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Sister Elmore," the pastor said softly to Montey's mother, his eyes filled with genuine sympathy.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.