Waking up that morning was the most difficult thing I'd ever had to do. Then again, I'd suspect it's never easy waking up on the day of your brother's funeral.
If I had to hear the words, "I'm so sorry for your loss," one more time, I was going to scream. Scream at the top of my lungs in the middle of the large crowd of people. All I'd heard since the funeral adjourned was "I'm so sorry," "I can't believe he's gone," or my personal favorite "You'll see each other again." No, we wouldn't; he wasn't going to the same place as I was.
It was a small service, held in the middle of the woods adjacent to our childhood home. A few close friends attended, gathering around the tree stump that Donovan and I used to play around every sunny afternoon. One by one, they placed a flower on the stump-a black rose. Numbly, I ghosted over to the podium next to the stump, grasping a solid white candle. Being the last living relative of my brother, it was my obligation to deliver the encomium. I took a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for the endeavor I never thought I'd have to endure.
"We ring this bell in remembrance of my loving brother, Donovan." I spoke slowly, trying to remember the speech that I had prepared a few days prior. "That which belongs to fellowship and love. That which belongs to the earth, remains with us. The wheel turns. As life is a day, so a young soul has passed into the night. Nothing is final, and we who remain behind know that one day, we will once again share the bread and wine with the recently departed. Oh, blessed spirit, we bid you farewell, for you await a new destiny."
Taking one final breath, I blew out the candle. As the flame from the candle was extinguished, a single tear slid down my face but I hastily wiped it away. I felt as though a piece of my soul was missing.
I made it through the day though. Surviving the repast seemed harder than the actual funeral. I must have said "I'm okay, I'm fine," over twenty times. But not once did I mean it. And no one noticed either. I'd come to the realization that, when people ask how you're doing, they never really want an answer. I merely gave a fake smile to the seemingly faceless individual and moved on to the next one.
I kept trying to convince myself that the days ahead would be better than the last. I just had to take things one day at a time. Maybe then it would hurt a little less.
