Brother (Petekey)

Cemetery Gates

    Gerard's parents had decided that they wanted a closed casket funeral. It had been an instant decision for them, not wanting Mikey to see his brother like that. He would never like to admit it, but he was grateful to them for it. Just the idea of seeing what had once been living and smiling and feeling turned to some kind of grotesquely realistic doll, like a stuffed animal, made him feel nauseous.

   He sat in the back row of the church, alone. There weren't many people there in total, leaving most of the pews empty. From the back of the church, Mikey could see everyone in the main chapel, and he realised, looking at them, that Gerard had probably only actually known about half of the twenty or so there well. Mikey himself only recognised about three quarters, and he knew for a fact that one or two of them had never even spoken to Gerard, let alone been friends with him.

  He knew that they were most likely there because they felt a portion of guilt from having been at the party at which Gerard overdosed, but he still felt a small amount of anger towards them: they shouldn't be using his funeral as a way to prove to his family that they were sorry. His funeral was a time for those close to him to honour him, and, perhaps, try to start moving forwards, not for people he hardly knew to try to cleanse their own soiled consciences. After this service, they would no doubt return to their own safe, unspoiled, fucking innocent lives, and they would forget that Gerard had ever existed.

   The priest started talking slowly, uncertain of his words. The instructions from the parents had been clear: just read something. Anything. Anything at all to fill the silence. No one was reading eulogies; there would be nothing particular to Gerard. It was all rushed, unsure: impersonal and disjointed.

   They hadn't even had a coffin made for him. There hadn't been time for that. Just give us what you've got. We'll pay extra for it. Just make it quick.

   And so the coffin was too large, and the service was too short, and everything felt disjointed, fragmented and wrong. Just so wrong.

   Things shouldn't be like this. And now, Mikey wasn't just thinking about the funeral. Everything that had happened in the last few days should never have even had a chance to come about: Mikey shouldn't feel like this, and that coffin should still be lying empty at the back of the funeral directors', and, above all, Gerard should still be here.

   Up until now, the whole thing had had some odd surreal quality to it, like it would all be over soon, but sitting here, in this church, with Gerard's fucking corpse just in front of him, he finally realised how real it was. And it would never be over. There was no getting through, no other side. This was it. And, he supposed, he just had to learn to live with it.

   He surveyed the small crowd again, trying to find anything to distract him from the priest's words. This man had never known Gerard well, and yet he was the only one speaking at his funeral. It seemed unfair, really, for this to be all that Gerard received in the way of a goodbye.

   After a moment, Mikey realised what was wrong with the picture: his grandma was missing. He knew she had been of an unstable mental state recently, but he would have expected her to come to the funeral. She loved Gerard – really loved him, the way, apparently, few people had – and yet she didn't even turn up to his funeral? There was something not right about it, and Mikey had a sickening idea that perhaps his parents hadn't even told her what had happened. He hoped to god that wasn't the case.

   The congregation in front of him rose suddenly, startling him slightly. The organ had started playing the first few notes of the horribly generic hymn by the time he found the strength to stand. He glanced around again, trying to get some hint of what he was supposed to be doing. He'd lost his service booklet, and didn't go to church often enough to know the words to this song.