The Piano Knows Something I Don't Know

What happens after death?

What happens after death?

I think I woke up on the wrong side of paradise, I thought as I opened my eyes on the day of Brendon's funeral. Patrick was still sleeping soundly on the other side of the room, but I couldn't sleep at all, even though the sun wasn't up yet. Nightmares of a vampiric Brendon rising from his coffin plagued me that night, so I thought that it would just be better to stay awake and work on my philosophy homework.

About an hour later, Patrick woke up. "Ryan, what are you doing up this early in the morning?" he asked me.

"I couldn't sleep," I told Patrick.

"If you're up, is it okay if I turn on some Elvis Costello?" Patrick asked, proving that despite everything that had happened over the past year, Patrick was still the same boy that he was when we first met. Perhaps seasons change, but people don't.

"That's fine," I said. Patrick turned on his music, and I tried to ignore it as I worked on my homework. I would have to leave for the funeral in a few hours, and it would be best if I could get some of my homework done before it started.

Those hours went by far too quickly. Before I knew it, it was time to leave. Patrick and I walked to the funeral home on the other end of Old Haven together. As I walked through the town, I wondered if this was the sort of funeral that Brendon would have wanted. I had never talked to Brendon about things like that, but I suspected that Brendon's ideal funeral would have been much more exciting than what his family had actually planned.

As we approached the funeral home, it was as if I could feel Brendon's presence. Where was he now? Was there some sort of afterlife that Brendon was living in now, or was he sticking around on Earth, just to haunt me? Maybe he had already been reincarnated, or maybe he truly was gone, and I was only making things up to make myself feel better. Then again, was there any harm in that? Dreaming didn't hurt anyone.

I opened the door to the funeral home, and I found Dallon standing near the door. "Hello Ryan," he said.

"Hi Dallon," I said weakly as I looked around the room. There were pictures of Brendon from throughout his life placed on each wall, and I spotted Brendon's parents and siblings dressed in black on the other end of the room. There were all sorts of other mourners packed into the funeral home, from Brendon's parents' friends from Las Vegas to a few of Brendon's old friends from Yale to people like me who had only known him in the last few years of his life. Our only connection was that we had all known Brendon Urie in some way. For a few moments, I felt as if I wasn't alone in my pain.

"When we were together, Brendon once told me that he wanted to be buried in Old Haven," Dallon said. "I'm glad that we were able to make that work."

I ignored Dallon and found the rest of the Guyliner Club crowded around a photo of Brendon singing at the Aubergine. Pete was already sobbing, while Patrick did his best to comfort him. I took a deep breath and told myself that I wouldn't cry. Brendon would have wanted me to stay strong. I could grieve as much as I wanted once I returned to Flack Hall.

I moved into the next room and took a seat near my friends. Pete, Patrick, Frank, Gerard, Spencer, and Laura were all right next to me, although I did find Dallon in the seat directly in front of me. As a priest started to speak about a God that Brendon didn't believe in, I thought again about the unfairness of all of this. Why did Brendon have to die? I knew that life was nothing but pure chaos, but why did that chaos have to go after my beloved boyfriend? I fought back tears as I thought of all of the people who were attending Brendon's funeral. At the very least, Brendon had made an impact on a lot of people in his short life.

Brendon's sister gave the first eulogy, giving a rather generic speech about the memories that she had shared with her younger brother. It was clear that she hadn't really known Brendon, at least not in the way that I had. Then again, what right did I have to complain? I hadn't known Brendon when he was young, even though we went to the same high school. I slumped back into my chair and listened to Brendon's sister speak. I would have much rather have had Brendon alive and by my side than having to attend his funeral, but I didn't have much choice in the matter.