Today was one of the most horrific I have ever experienced. I stood beside my father's coffin and watched as they lowered the steel box down into the earth. My mother cried and clung to my arm. I imagine I was the only thing holding her up. I stole a glance at her and watched as her mascara and eyeliner ran down her face. I blinked a few times and went back to the excruciating scene of my dad's burial. Im certain the preacher was talking. Comforting us. Explaining that Dad was in a better place but seriously we're a selfish bunch of people. We didnt want Dad to be anywhere other than back with us. My stomach clinched and I felt like vomiting up what little I had eaten at the service. Mom was sobbing so hard she was starting to hiccup. I pleaded with my eyes to my younger brother to come help me out but he kept his head lowered with all the other mourners in prayer. I sighed and tried to keep both mom and myself upright. Her weight was getting difficult to hold. I tried to concentrate on the preacher's last prayer for my father but suddenly the sound of pounding interrupted his soft words. We all looked down into the dark hole that would be dad's final resting place and watching in awe, wonder, and most definitely terror as the coffin lid banged open and my dearly departed father sat up.
