Signed by, Andrew Oliver

Chapter Three

"Did you write your eulogy?" Aunt Susie asked me quietly as I looked at the picture of my parents, which was now framed in a beautiful sky-blue frame sitting on my desk. I shook my head. Aunt Susie uncrossed her arms and pat down her black dress and walked to me. She rested a hand on my shoulder.

I looked at her, then back at the picture, and then out of the window. It was starting to rain again. "I don't think I could ever bring myself to read it out loud if I did."

"It takes courage," she said as she picked up the frame, "which is a quality I think you have. Your father was always courageous."

I ignored her comment. Then, I took the frame out of her hand and set it neatly back down on the desk. I got up and headed towards the bathroom, took some gel and combed my hair back nicely. Elizabeth knocked on the door.

"I need my earrings."

"I'm done, hold on." I looked into the mirror and pushed up against it with my arms. I sighed heavily, and just looked at myself. My blue eyes looked tired from all the crying, and the bags under my eyes didn't help. My cheeks were like a permanent pink. One look at me and you could tell I was a mess.

I closed up the gel and placed it back in the cabinet, then slipped my comb into the back pocket of my khakis. Elizabeth impatiently knocked again, so I unlocked the door and slithered my way between her and the doorway.

"We're going out to eat after the funeral," she said. I looked at her, made a small smile and tilted my head a bit. Then I turned around and went to my aunt, who was grabbing some jewelry from her case in her room to finish up her look.

"Do you have a eulogy?" I asked as I went to go sit down on her bed, which was a beautiful red with flowers blooming from the feet of the blanket.

Aunt Susie jumped, then looked at me as she worked in an earring. "Sadly, no. It doesn't have to be written," she said as she turned back to the mirror," even though it's best to be prepared because you'll most likely be crying."

"I hate reading while I'm crying," I stated.

Aunt Susie started working on the other ear. "Well, just talk from the soul, read your heart. Whatever your heart wants to say, say it." She smiled at me through the mirror. I smiled back at her. "Make sure you're ready to go, though. We won't be back until about eight tonight."

I nodded and pushed myself up off the bed. The note. The note. I rushed to my room and found the note, which had fallen in-between the nightstand and my bed. Quickly, I picked it up and flipped it open while making myself comfortable in my bed. I read it over, again, again, again. The words were whirling through my head over and over again.

"Time to go!" Aunt Susie said as she came down the hallway and started her way downstairs.

I glance up, then quickly fold the letter up. I held it close to my chest. Do I really want this? What would my parents want? I sigh and set it underneath a book and rushed downstairs and met up with my aunt and cousin in our green station wagon.

As we were on our way to the funeral home, it was raining even worse. The thunder pounded against my ears and the lightning rushed it's way through the sky. The soft, rhythmic squeak of the windshield wipers made a beat, but not one you could make music too. Puddles gathered around on the sides of the street like their was a party only they were invited to.

When we got there, we entered the parking lot, and a funeral manager was outside in a clear raincoat, sticking bright, orange flags to the hood of our car. He did the same for every single person who came. It would suck to hang out in the rain for an hour or two.