Typical

Don't be afraid, it's only death

The world seemed like it was just a blur. An endless pit of nothingness that we called society. Time moved as though it's been slowly frozen over centuries. As though it was an endless void sucking us in for eternity, rotting us away from the inside out. Time never seemed to stop for anyone, it just kept going.

People who have needed time to stop, even for a few seconds, have fallen silent to their pleas from the higher being. Time is a tyrant. A tyrant who doesn't care what's right for humanity. Wastefully taking moments of our worthless lives while the child inside of us is torn to shreds. Time takes away everything dear to us. There are points in time that it takes away the things we love, the things we cherish. We can't do anything about it because time is untouchable.

They say things can change in a matter of seconds but do they really? Do the people who have been in time's grasp in a negative way actually change?

Throughout time millions have died by the hands of man and yet it hasn't changed at all. The numbers may slightly be lower in today's society but death has not gone away. Death is always breathing down our back and the only way it can tell we aren't in its grasps is by the frozen shiver it sends down our back by its icy breath.

Death and time seem to always be connected. When a person's time comes death is happy to take away the soul of the innocent victim. Though all might not be innocent and some might not be substantially "ready" to die they do.

"Everyone dies, it's a part of life."

I haven't been to many funerals before. They always give me an upset stomach. Everyone's upset and crying over someone who was "the best friend you could ever have" or "a mother who never stopped loving". They never really seemed to need to die. People's moans of sorrow and pitiless gestures of sadness fill the opaque room.

I once went to my father's boss's funeral when I was 8. How was I supposed to pay respects to one of my father's bosses? I didn't even know what he looked like let alone offer my condolences to the guy.

I sat there fiddling with my dress ,that my mother and I bought the day before, with my clammy hands while my bottom lips was furiously being attacked by my teeth. The dress was big around my chest and the length kept creeping up my slightly bruised knees. My mother and I searched for hours trying to find a black dress that would cover the greenish blue markings.

"I can't believe you would jump out of a tree, Mallory. What were you thinking?"
"I was only-," my mother cut me off and crossed her suit covered arms. She gave me the look that all mothers have when they are yelling at their kids. I stared at her with wide eyes waiting to hear her argument.
"That's right, you weren't thinking. I can't believe you still can't act like the young lady you are. You're eight now Mallory, you need to learn to grow up."
"But mom, I was only playing with my friends! And the tree was only 5 feet tall!" I groaned while throwing my head back.
"You still jumped out of a tree, Mallory. Look at your knees! Stop acting like a toddler and play more sophisticated games. Don't your friends like to play tea time or dress up?" My mother asked as she kept her eyes off of me, her face straight while looking through the assortment of dresses.
"No mom, we like to play forest adventure and tag and hide-n-go seek." My mother shook her head angrily. At first I thought she was going to say something but she must have changed her mind because she only sharply turned around and walked towards the soon to be yelled at employee of the store.

My lip would be slightly bleeding afterwards and my mother would scold me. She hates when I don't look proper and have scuffs or bruises or both. She always makes me do the dishes when I don't act proper. I hate doing the dishes. It was even worse when we were told to go up and pay our respects.

As we slowly approached the wooden casket the smell of the many flower arrangements made my nose tickle and I held back a sneeze. The flowers seemed to be from all over the world. Every color and size were delicately placed in a certain elegant pattern. You could faintly spot out the personalized notes stating their condolences and their love for this man. Some stained with tear others having hard rash hand writing as if it was rushed. There must have been 50 arrangements surrounding the shiny black casket, he must have been a good boss.

The area around the casket seemed to be many degrees cooler than where we were sitting in the pews. It gave me a small shiver making me unconsciously wrap my arms around myself. I took small steps, dreading to see the elderly man lying peacefully. I quickly gripped my mothers hand until my knuckles started to hurts. She gave me a stern look and I shyly loosened up my grip.

My father was the first one to the casket and he said a few words silently under his breath. I looked at him and went back to playing with my hands. I looked back at the sniffling women and the men who let them cry in their shoulder. A woman blew loudly into her tissue.

Geez all this over a old smelly guy?

I scrunched up my face and slowly turned back and took my first look at Mr. Jacobson. He wore a dark navy blue suit that fitted him perfectly, he looked like a businessman naturally. His skin was tinted white with a light tone of coloring around his face. His hands laid stiffly intertwined while resting on his still belly. A gold flashy wedding ring sparkled lightly and if you looked close enough it was engraved with, "my love for you is everlasting" in curt cursive lettering. The diamond in the center looked to be as big as one of my Lego pieces back home and it was elegantly cut.
I looked at Mr. Jacobson's face praying to god he wouldn't wake up and jump up at me. His wrinkled face rested in a scowl like someone had just ate all the pop-tarts. His two grey tinted lips drew up in a line. The emotion his face held was anger.

I thought dead people were supposed to be happy.

I quickly held my fathers hand in horror of this man's horrifying face. I wanted to be home with my barbies, who were sadly unable to accompany me to this awful funeral. For crying out loud I'm 8! I shouldn't see dead people, not now. Last time I went to one was great aunt Susie's and I was 3.

He looked down at me softly smiling,   "everything's going to be alright baby." I softly smiled back and leaned into him. I could faintly feel him turn to look at my mother then back at the casket.

We walked back together to the pew as a family. My father staying closer to me than my mother. He will protect me. Nothing bad ever passes him, he'll be here to keep me safe forever. After all I'm daddy's little princess.