binded

zane ; the funeral

In my 17 years of life, I have never once attended a funeral. The only thing that I have seen of them are that of movies. Everyone cries and wears black as the casket is dramatically lowered into the dirt. I've never been to a wedding either and share similar knowledge to that of funerals. I know that there is a deadly game of catching a bouquet of flowers amongst women and that if another female wears white that the bride will lose her mind.

This is why I am extremely nervous when waking up on Saturday morning. It is 6 a.m. and I spent the entire night panicking about what to do. Do I follow the stereotype and wear black? What about Grace? How do I comfort her through all this? Knowing her she is going to be an emotional wreck the entire day and that will be something difficult to handle.

When I get out of bed, there is a knock at my door and I shout for whoever is there that they can come in. Once the white wooden door opens, my mother stands in the door frame with a pair of nice dress pants and a button-up shirt in a dry cleaner bag.

"I didn't know the color scheme of the funeral, I just assumed that you would like wearing black and grey." she shrugs while handing me the bag, "I also have a pair of dress shoes downstairs for you...are you sure you want to go to this? You didn't even know him."

I nod without a doubt in my mind, "I want to be there for her, even if it means something like this."

My mom places both of her hands over her heart and smiles, "You seem to truly care about this girl, I can't wait to meet her one day."

You will mom, you will.

I squeeze her tightly and hear her call me her boy. My mom always knows when I'm dysphoric and tiny gestures like that always help me. She walks me down the stairs and waves goodbye as I leave through the garage.

As I drive to the church, my mind begins to think of things I don't particularly wish to. How maybe Grace won't accept me, or that things won't work out. However, I need to realize that I'm still just a kid and have my entire life ahead of me. But deep down I really do hope that things will work with Grace.

I arrive to the funeral and check my appearance one more time in the mirror. Yes this is the first time I'm meeting her mom and I'm truly hoping that I'm passing well enough. After taking a few deep breaths, I exit my car and walk through the front doors of the church.

Most of the people in attendance don't seem anywhere close to my age or Grace's. She said that she would be saving me a seat in the front alongside her mother and her family which causes my heart to race. Just calm down Zane, everything is going to be fine. They're not focusing on you but on the ceremony.

While entering the chapel, a woman hands me a pamphlet with a photograph of Grace's father on the cover. His full name, date of birth and date of death are all listed along with the date and time of the service.

I immediately take note of Grace's cloud of hair in the center of the front row. To her right is who appears to be her mother. From what I can see from the back, she has light brown hair and olive skin. I assume that those surrounding her are other family members, but there is a gap to her left.

I walk past every pew full of emotional family members and close friends of Mr. Russell until reaching the front. Quietly, I sit beside Grace and take her hand. She is simply looking down at her feet and the blue carpet. I can tell by the way her eyes are studying the floor that this is the closest thing she has to a distraction.

"Have you been doing okay?" I ask as she shuts her eyes.

Grace continues to stare in silence until she finally looks up into my eyes. Her normal round spheres of cracking firewood have been replaced with burnt logs. There is no more happiness in her eyes. And I can't blame her.

"You must be Zane, I am Grace's mother, Caroline." she says with a false smile, "I have heard many things about you."

This leaves me wondering if what she's heard is good or bad. Let's hope the first one.

Grace still remain silent up until a woman presses her fingers on piano keys and plays a soft melody. She quickly covers her mouth with a free hand and turns to face me with sadness in her eyes.

"This was our song." she whispers, "This was the song I always said I wanted to dance with him at a wedding to."

As the woman continues to play, I see Grace is deep in thought. I want to help but I truly have no clue how. I've never had a family member die before and this is the type of grease that I can never understand.

So I simply kiss her cheek, rub my thumb against her hand and tell her that everything will be okay one day. All she does is nod and sniffle until the song comes to a close. A priest approaches the tall podium and looks down on the crowd.

"Good morning everyone." he says while people echo what he has just said, "And thank you all for being here this morning. Today, we are honoring the life of Edward Matthew Russell."

To be completely honest, I zone out through a lot of his obituary. Most of it is talking about how he grew up, his parents and eventually how he met Caroline. I come back to reality when he begins discussing a daughter.

"On January 15th of 2001, his only daughter, Gracelyn Diane Russell was born in San Diego, California." he begins, "Grace was always the light of Edward's life and he raised her until now when she is 17 years old."

I turn my head towards Grace and see her wiping away a tear with a tissue that has dabs of mascara on it. She never mentioned her father to me until I picked her up from the hospital, I should have known how close they really were.

"On September 5th of 2018, Edward Russell moved into the afterlife. He will be leaving behind his wife Caroline and daughter Gracelyn. Let us pray for them."

All at once, every single head in the church bows down and hands connect in prayer. I have never been religious, but I take Grace's hand anyways and bow my head as well. I don't even think I'm praying, just shutting my eyes to blend in. However it's more than I would do if I went to a regular church service.

After a few minutes, everyone's heads lift back up and the pianist starts to play Amazing Grace. Some in the crowd are singing to his urn while others have their eyes closed and sing to the sky. Either way, they want the song to be for him.

I can hear Grace's quiet singing, her voice cracking every so often as tears fall delicately down her cheeks and land on her black dress. Halfway through the song, she is looking down at her lap and trying not to sob. I wipe the tears from the corner of her eye as the singing continues.

"I know it hurts." I say to her as she sighs, "Let it out..."

And she does.

When the funeral ends, we are the last few people to stand up and exit. I get to officially meet Caroline and discover that her initial thoughts about me weren't the best. But now that she has seen me around Grace, it seems that her point of view is changing. While walking down the aisle, Grace rest her head on my shoulder and I can tell that she is emotionally drained.

"Take me to your house." she simply says, "I need to distract myself from all of this."

Then I remember that she hasn't met my family yet. My mother, my stepfather or Bradon. Maybe something like this could be good for her. Now might be the best chance considering she will get to know my life a little bit better.

" Okay." I nod while squeezing her hand, "Go change at your house and be at mine for lunch".

Grace's lips curl up the into the slightest smile and she tucks her hair behind her ear, "Thank you Zane...and I can't wait to meet them."