Of Angels and Demons (Revamped)

Chapter 2: Mourning

     At the day of my grandfathers funeral, it was a pretty difficult day. I've seen a few people who were unrecognizable to me, but they all knew my grandfather. They were all old friends of his, so they weren't complete strangers. To me however, I barely knew them at all. They were total strangers to me.
The only person I knew there was my Aunt, and she's basically the only person I knew there. As I looked around, from what I know, were my grandfathers old acquaintances and friends; People who knew him very well. Not a single child was there, besides me.
     As the music began, it was only me and my Aunt walking down the isle to the front row of the pews. Up ahead was the man who I hold high on a pedestal, even to this day, resting in a suit inside a casket. What he wore was usually what he always wore: a blue plaid shirt, with a t-shirt underneath, and his dark grey khaki pants. At that time I didn't know he wasn't wearing his usual loafers, but to me during then I believed he wore them inside. Just to complete his attire for an afterlife.
     Now, I'll be completely honest. I'm not religious, and I really never was. I don't really believe in a higher entity who is all powerful, but I do believe in an afterlife of sorts. Doesn't matter wether or not you've been kind or cruel, our mind and souls should end up somewhere, right? But I believe that my grandfather would be happy in the afterlife, after living out his life as a great person.
     As I sat in the front row pew to the left, I looked down at my hands. My aunt wrapped her arm around me to try and comfort me, and I leaned against her in the attempted to comfort her. Tears were flowing like waterfalls from my eyelids, and I lost count of how long I actually cried.
     When they started to begin, one by one, my grandfathers old friends and acquaintances were telling stories of their time with him. Even if it sounds far fetched to believe, not a single one had anything bad to say about him. It may sound impossible for someone like him to exist, but it's true what I say. He was an outstanding man, and a wonderful grandfather.
     After they all finished, they started to play an old western song. My grandfather loved old westerns; hell, we even watched DVD's and recordings of old westerns with him. He and my grandmother were an old rancher couple who, through age, sell farming supplies and animal feed. While I wasn't much of an agricultural person, I certainly helped him with whatever he needed. I never knew my grandmother much.
     As the song played, Aunt Lilian whispered in my ear:
"Do you hear this song...?"
"Yes..." I said while still sobbing.
"This song.. this song was their favorite.. your grandfathers and grandmothers.. they were his words to her.."
I wasn't sure what it all meant, because I couldn't hear clearly. However, as I started listening I heard the lyrics fully. They were words of love, and supposedly vows of honesty, kindness and gratitude. This was a western love song that brought the two of them together. I couldn't help but cry a little more, even though I couldn't understand the words at all. I may not have understood what Love was, but it was enough to have me cry more.
After the song had finished, everyone got up and so did me and Lilian. We exited the building and then entered a car, where someone else was driving. After a bit of a drive, we arrived at our destination: the cemetery. It was where we'd say our final goodbye to him, for the last time before we bury him. There were seats prepared for us, and so we approached and took our seats.
Where I was sitting, I could see a vase of flowers and a certain walking stick. This walking stick was the one thing I vividly remember, because it had a saw handle with 2 quarters embedded into both sides. This was my grandfathers unique walking canes, which he made himself. This one was stained and glazed to make t look orange, and the coins look like they're made of gold.
The sight of the cane itself made me feel a bit more happy. At the time, I believed that he could use his cane to walk in the afterlife, and maybe with his beloved wife, who would've been my grandmother. I was smiling, but the tears were still flowing from my eyes as soon as they brought in the casket that contained my grandfather. They rolled it to the hole dug out perfectly for him, and as soon as it was perfectly aligned, started lowering him in.
     The reality of that day started to get back at me, and my slight sense of happiness went away. Afterwards, we all had a final few words, then they began to shovel the dirt inside.
     2 hours later, after the burial and supper, me and my aunt Lilian drove back to our home, where the rest of the night I stayed in my room. It was a Thursday, as I remember it. My aunt allowed me to stay home for another day, but as soon as the weekend was over I had to go back to school.
     I laid in bed, holding my arms around my head and cried silently for the night. My role model and mentor was now dead, and nothing could ever bring him back. This is the reality we all face one point in our life, so I try to keep the courage to carry on with my life. But it doesn't mean that I wasn't any less sad.