The Dawn of Realization.

     That morning, dreadful as it was, felt like I had lived it a thousand times over. Not that I had, it just felt like I had been regretting this day all last week.

     Today was my father's funeral.

     I got up, showered, and dressed in the dress my mother had picked up for me. It all felt surreal.

     I sat in front of the mirror, applying my make-up, patting concealer over the dark cicrcles under my eyes. I brushed out my hair, deciding to just leave it be.

     My mother had left earlier that morning, saying she had final paperwork to go through, and she'd see me in the next hour or so. Who knew there was so much to a funeral? I guess everyone went through the crash course as it happened.

     I slipped my shoes on, a pair of ungodly painful high heels that matched the dress. I was unaware it was tactful to be fashionably appropriate for the dead.

     I grabbed my car keys and bag off the kitchen counter and opened the front door. It was raining.

     Nothing like a big storm, just a small drizzle. Just enough to make the day more miserable. I rushed across the yard to my parked car. I quickly checked my hair and make-up again, out of habit. I didn't want to show up looking like a mess.

     Once I arrived at the funeral home, it appeared everyone else had already gotten there first. I struggled to find a parking space and the struggled to squeeze down the hallway.

     My father was a well-known man. He had probably designed half of their homes; being a talented design architect.

     I joined my mother, who sat in the first pew, holding a hankerchief to her cheek. I don't think she had slept the last few days. she still looked just as frigid as ever, though, and distant.

     I should not think ill of my mother during such a time, I scolded myself.

     " What took you so long?" She leaned over, whispering to me.

     " There was a lot of traffic." I lied. There had barely been any traffic, I had taken my time. The last thing I wanted to do was see my father lying in that coffin like I was now.

     My heart ached, wrenched, and throbbed at the sight of him. He had always been such a nice man, so thoughtful, and friendly. He didn't deserve this.

     But he looked so alive in that death box. His black hair gleamed under the flourescent lights, his skin was clear, and his beard was neatly touched up, the gray still peppered the sides.

     He looked more alive dead than he did last week. When he was actually alive.

     I kept expecting him to just sit up, laugh, and climb out so we could all go home. But he didn't.

     I had never seen a corpse up close until now. I had never lost anyone in my family up until now either. I hated that it hit so close to home.

     My mother asked me why I wasn't crying, but I didn't answer her. It was true, everyone had watery eyes but me, but I couldn't cry. I had cried all of my tears out. I had nothing left to squeeze out. If that made me appear heartless to these people, then so be it. I was not here for them, I was here for my dad.

     After everything was over, my mother and I stood by the door, accepting grievences. There would be no burial, no further ceremonies. It was in his will to be cremated. He would still have a plot next to his mother in the Alexander family grave, but it would be pointless if nothing of him was there.

     I shook hands, nodded, listened to people tell me what a great man my father was. All the while just begging God for this day to just come to an end.

     My feet were blistered from the heels, the dress was awful tight, and sweat was beginning to bead on my forehead. The funeral home's air conditioning was broken. And my heart was done aching for all of these other people.

     " Dawn? " My mother said, grabbing at my shoulder. I blinked. I hadn't noticed everyone was gone now. We stood alone in the hallway.

     "Everyone has gone back to house for food." She told me, rumaging through her purse for her keys.

     "We have to head back now, there's people waiting for us." She fiddled with some loose strands of my hair, then withdrew her hand.

     I watched her walk across the empty parking lot and slide in to her new Cadillac. Her heels clicking all the way.

     I took a deep breath, rubbing my palms against my tired eyes, and walked to my own car.

     This day was never going to end. I was doomed to live this day, the day of my dad's funeral, over and over. This day felt like it had 48 hours compiled into 24.

     My house was littered with flowers, people just standing around, and home made food people had brought.

     In no mood for anymore socialising, I went upstairs and locked myself in my bedroom. my cell phone was going off all night, but not once did I answer it.

     I peeled the shoes off my sore feet and tossed them into the corner and dressed myself in soft shorts and a T-shirt.

     I just wanted this day to be over and maybe if I slept long enough, it would be.