Pseudonym

A Funeral And A Eulogy

Chapter 4: A Funeral and A Eulogy

Carlo and I attended Leon's funeral. It was a small affair. About a handful of other people paid their respects, including his immediate family members – his mother and his brother, and a girl with him whom I wasn't sure was a girl friend or a wife.

Others were strangers to me, but they were probably other family members I hadn't met yet. It wasn't as if I knew every aspect of his life. Some of our classmates were there, and even boys he had hung out with back in high school. Some college friends were there as well.

A man introduced himself to us as Leon's literary agent. A publishing company sent a condolences card.

There was a man in the back. He had the same brown skin as Leon. The same straight hair, except that it was of a salt-and-pepper color. The same posture as Leon's.

He approached the casket but only looked at it for a few seconds. He said nothing to the mother and brother.

Leon's father?

"Leon's father, I guess," Carlo whispered to me.

After the service and the blessing of the casket, the eulogy was delivered by Daniel, one of Leon's friends, and the only boy besides Carlo to ever take a romantic interest in me. But that was in high school. Daniel and I had actually been friends until he confessed to me, and he and Leon had been close friends until he found out that I liked Leon.

Good morning to you all.

I am going to tell you a story. There was once a lonely boy, around twelve years old, who was seated by himself. It was a rainy day, the first day of high school, and he was waiting for his mom to pick him up. Another boy sat by him and introduced himself. "Hi, my name is Leon. What's yours?"…

Daniel was quite a poor writer and an even poorer speaker. I'm not saying that because I am a writer and a broadcaster—it is the truth. Part of me wished he would stop talking about hisfriendship with the deceased and talk about Leon. About what he meant to all of us in that chapel that rainy afternoon.

He was my best friend until my pride and selfishness got in the way and tore us apart. I thought that he was on the losing end since he did not have many friends. I was wrong. He had many friends, many friends who only called themselves his friends when they wanted someone to hang out and play videogames with. The truth is, I was on the losing end because I lost someone of importance. Someone of substance and knowledge and wisdom. I was a boy when I left him, and now we are both men. He is gone, though, and I wish someone, something had made me come back and befriend him once more, the way he befriended me when I was alone.

He died all alone…"

Quite surprisingly, the childish account turned into a sentimental speech that actually drew fresh tears out of the congregation's eyes. It drew tears of blood out of my heart.

I cried over my poor, sad, dead best friend all over again.

Leon liked the rainy weather. He liked storms. He said they seemed to empathize with his feelings. Was it coincidence that he had killed himself on a rainy day?

I hope he is at peace now. We let him go, back to the soul of the earth, with rain in the sky and a storm of tears pouring from our eyes.