Today is yet, another day that I don't want to live through. This was the third funeral in a row that I had to attend. I did not want to go, and Bruno didn't want me to go either. Yesterday was my best friend's funeral, and the day before that was my precious grandmother's. Today was my cousin's. Who did I have to thank for that? My own grandfather. We were close when I was younger, and I did not have a clue about a mental illness. Memories fill my head of people telling me that the man was crazy, but I was young and didn't think anything of it. When it comes to attending funerals, it's like I have a phobia of it. Although I'm pretty sure it's like that for everyone, for me, it's about ten times worse.
I'm putting on my pearl earrings when I notice Bruno looking at me through the vanity. "Briana, you look so beautiful," he tells me. I softly smile, "You look handsome.'' Just as we were admiring each other, we heard a honk in our driveway. My breath hitched, and my heart hammered against my chest, as I saw the limousine driver coming to the door. "Are you ready," he asks, looking at the both of us. I reluctantly nodded, as I grab his hand. The driver opened the door for us, and I stepped inside first. As soon as I looked up, I saw my mom, aunt, uncle, and other cousin. My anxiety started kicking in, and I started shaking and crying, uncontrollably. Bruno took me in his arms, and my mom held my hand. Her eyes were watery. "Bri, I know you don't like going to these. But who does? Just take some deep breaths, and relax. It's too late to turn away now." I listened to her words, and found myself slowly calming down.
Soon enough, we arrived at the church where the service was being held. It was packed. Just the thought of how many people loved my cousin made me smile. I talked to a few people that I haven't seen in awhile, and someone tapped my shoulder, letting me know that it was time for the family to march in. I took some deep breaths, and took my place in line. Things were running very smooth until my eye caught a glimpse of my lifeless cousin in the front. My heart skipped many beats as I was walking. Bruno was still holding my hand, and telling me how good I was doing. We made it to our seats, which were right in front of the casket. That's one thing I don't like seeing--dead people.
The service dragged on, and finally the priest asks for family to come and share memories they had with the deceased. I mustered up enough courage to stand from the pew, and walk on the stage. Bruno and my mother gave me a secret thumbs up, and that warmed my heart. Before I actually spoke into the microphone, I gave myself a mental pep talk. I took a breath, but then my eyes diverted to the casket again. Why do I keep doing that to myself? I struggled for words, and for air. The church became stuffy as tears filled my eyes, and anger filled my soul. The person who caused all of this pain was standing at the back of the church. I couldn't take it any longer. I ran out of the church, and ignored the gasps and my name being called. There was a nearby bench and I sat on it. I just needed some air. Out of nowhere, a pair of hands touched my shoulders. "Briana. I am truly sorry about what I did," my grandfather spoke to me. I didn't turn to look at him. "All I want to know is why. Why did you do it," I asked him, trying to keep my voice steady. He sat down next to me. "I don't know. I'm just lonely." I took out my phone, and finally faced him. "You know where you belong, and you know you'll be there for life," I say dialing the police. He nods. Everyone comes out the church as the police arrests my grandfather, and takes him away for good.
