It was harshly hot, the humidity seeping into people's clothes and sucking the life out of their faces, leaving them drained from all color. The women were decked in black from head to toe, regretting the decision to wear wool on this harsh day. Tugging at the unfamiliar, stifling clothes, people with unknown faces tried to hide their irritation. But none of them were very good actors and were seen numerous times frowning and murmuring about how awful this day has been.
No tears were shed, no faces showed mourning. People were there strictly for business. John's parents stood by their son's coffin, talking to different people and making business transactions as their son laid in a wooden box, slowly rotting away as his soul was somewhere else. George and Barbra never bothered to show up, for their grief wasn't needed nor wanted by John's parental unit. They laid with their feet skimming the water on the lake. They, also, shed no tears but they didn't ruin the boy's image by dealing with certain persons who have never set eyes on the particular young man they're supposed to mourn.
The funeral lasted only an hour, and once it was over the people rushed to their haven, the cool interior of their vehicles. John's father helped lower his son into the ground, conveniently forgetting his son's wish of cremation, instead choosing to have him rot in the ground.
-------------------------------
Jocelyn's funeral was the opposite. Many tears were shed and Jocelyn's father didn't ruin his daughter's image by making business transactions. Jocelyn's little sister stood next to her father, noticably trying to hold herself together. But every so often she fails and some tears escape. She shakes everyone's hands, accepting their mainly false condolences, as her father cries with his head bowed. In one hand he held his daughter's suicide note, and in the other he grasped the side of the coffin. His sobs were evident, for with every drag of breath his shoulders shook silently.
Family members, church members, even random people from school came. The only two to cry were Joeclyn's father and sister, the people she left behind. As people came up to shake the child's hand she gave them a false, watery smile and she would mutter a quick thank you before dropping her head and letting her facade drop for even a second. Onlookers could tell that she would never truly get over this paticular death, and when she got home she would become isolated(but of her own free will).
Once the introductions were made, Jocelyn's little sister walked over to the coffin that looked so omnious that she hated every moment of it. She wished things would be different, that much was evident. With her eyes gliding from each face to the next, some familiar some not, she slowly unfolded her speech. Her eyes were so glossy she couldn't make anything from it, but that was okay, for she memorized it anyways. As she cleared her throat all conversations ceased. She clenched her shaking fingers, hoping to draw blood.
"I'm Alice, Jocelyn's younger sister." She started, her voice cracking and her throat clogging again. "Jocelyn's and my life hasn't always been perfect. We've had our ups and downs, mostly downs contrary to popular belief." She sighed in relief when a couple immature teenagers chuckled. "But my sister was largely effected. Being older than I am, she remembers our mother, our father before he turned stranger. She was the one who held me when I cried, begging her to bring mommy home-" She stopped, breathing in a ragged breath. "When we were younger Jocelyn was diganoised with Depression and Insomnia. And still she continued to be the stronger of us two." She laughed a shaky breath, letting her tears flow for the first time since her sister's death. "She loved us, she never asked for anything, while we incesantly asked her, forcing her to give more than she could. We forced her to the brink, then we expected her to get her life together." She barely glanced at her paper before continuing. "And then there's John." Alice shook her head as she thought of the golden boy who isn't so golden now. "He loved my sister more than my father or I ever could. He helped her, he guided her, shaped her." Alice shut her eyes forcfully before continuing. "She was happy. But then the accident-" She realeased her breath, not wanting to finish, but opening her eyes with the knowledge that she has to. "-But then the accident that caused John's death. That's what sent my sister into the deep dark abyss she couldn't get out no matter what anybody-including herself-did. And so, in closing, I'm here to give tribute to this teenage couple. I love my sister, no past tense to it. She was strong and loving-god." Alice stopped, choking on her words while tears ran down her cheeks. "Joeclyn was what was right and wrong about this world all at the same moment. She cared for me, loved my father, and gave her everything to John. She was-she was my best-fucking-friend. I just pray she's happy wherever she is. The world owes her that much. The world owes her that-that and so much more. Dammit." She finished softly, before running off. She slid to the ground in front of John's grave. It was fresh from burial. She sobbed into her hands, wishing she had someone, anybody, who could just stop the bone-aching pain her sister's death caused her.
"Why?" She cried, wishing someone could just tell her, could just hand her the answers so she doesn't have to fucking hurt anymore. "Why?"
*
*
*
*
*
YOU ARE READING
Nights of Insomnia
Short Story“The night is the hardest time to be alive and 4am knows all my secrets.” (Wonderful cover by @streamline)
