Hear Me Out

Chap. 11

Wooo Skye's friends are back! :D

My brother and I were seated together in a pew. My friends sat by us. Erin held my hand, and my boys sat behind me and Fabien, to reassure us. It was a beautiful winter day. The sun was shining, birds were chirping. A cold wind was in the breeze. It was a nice day. My parents would've loved it. Light shined through the stained glass, the priest was speaking, telling us how life is precious and whatnot. Like we didn't already know that.

I looked passed Fabien's shoulder, and Uncle Vic and Aunt Joce were seated together with my grandma and grandpa from my dad's side. In the next pew over was my mom's older sister. I haven't seen my aunt in, God knows how long. She and my mom never got along. I never understood why. But she had the decency to come. Which I'm thankful for, and my mom will be too. Seated with her on her right, were my grandparents from my mom's side, then on my aunt's left, were two men that I  barely recognized, but they had straight faces. They were seated directly behind Uncle Vic.

Uncle Vic probably knows them. I kept staring at them, until I finally figured out who they were.

"...and now, their daughter Skye would like to say a few words." The priest motioned for me to come up.

I stood up and walked over to the podium. I looked out into the crowd, family and my parents' friends from work. Everyone they knew was there. Everyone they've ever cared about was there.

"Hi." I muttered, "in case you didn't already know, like Father Carlos said, I'm Skye. Byron and Christine's daughter." I looked at my crumpled piece of paper, and I looked back up trying to say what I wrote down, but I couldn't, I ripped it up. Murmurs started around the hall, "I..." I sighed, "I wrote something down, I wrote down what I wanted to say to all of you, but then I just realized, I can never know exactly what I want to say."

I chuckled, "My parents always did that. They'd never plan anything, 'cause they knew they can never expect what will happen next. Life is unpredictable and it's easier to just go with it. That's what they taught me and Fabien." I sniffled, "I can't believe I'm actually speaking at their funeral, but unfortunately, I am." I scanned them, "I see you're all wearing black." I laughed, "My parents thought life was full of color and that we should accept it. Dad had the weirdest clothing ever, bright and loud, but we all just went along with it. He knew that there is a black and white side to everything, sometimes you'll find a gray area."

My voice started to tremble but I held it down, "They wore bright colors to represent the fact there are other options besides black and white. So I stand before all of you today, wearing, not black, but my mom's favorite color; purple." I wiped a tear that went down my cheek, "I'm wearing a skirt. Heh, only for you Mom." Everyone laughed.

I pointed out Fabien, "Fabien, my brother, is wearing green. My dad's favorite color. Black is a mourning color, and we're not here to mourn. Maybe some of you are, but my brother and I are celebrating. Celebrating their lives. Celebrating the wonderful things they've taught us."

"They've also taught us the power of music. My mom played the piano, which my brother and I had inherited our love for that instrument. My dad played the guitar, which is a part of my daily life. My parents believed that music was the only way to have someone really listen to you." I began to speak louder, "They thought music let you have a louder voice. My dad's favorite word was, 'Hear'."

I placed my fingers on my neck where my dad's guitar pick was hanging, "The word, 'Hear' meant so much to him. To him, it was like the bible all smashed into one word. He lived by that word. When you 'hear' something, you're not only listening, but you're making the attempt to understand it.  Now we've heard what my parents had to say over the years, now we have to heed their words."