The Second Writer Games: Life and Death

Semifinals - Funeral Crashing - Candor Rouse

It wasn't like the movies. The sky had not cried, not even for me. Instead, it was bright, and ac blinding white overcast. Church bells didn't ring, for my funeral had been held outside, in a graveyard. Not everyone was crying, and sad music didn't play in the background. No, not a movie at all, it was real life.
"Wow. You actually bothered to show up." a voice mumbled.
My ear flicked, and I didn't bother to turn around. I already knew it was Parker, I already knew he would show up.
"It is my funeral after all." I replied.
Hordes of people had already begun to show up, all wearing black, all wearing the same grief-filled faces. Yet, here I stood, in front of my own casket made for two. I stared down at my limp body, my pale face, my freshly dressed body. My hair had been nicely combed, they had cleaned all the dried blood off of me, and dressed me in a beautiful black suit and tie, with nothing but a bright pink rose in the front pocket. Next to my casket stood a pictures of me, they'd used my most recent pictures, my senior year photo collages. Even more nostalgia washed over me as I stared at the has been, and thought of what would've been. It wasn't fair, and I knew it.
"Feeling sorry for yourself won't bring you back." he sighed.
I felt a sudden burst of anger risen up from me, yet I did nothing. Parker did nothing to deserve my anger, and resentment, and I knew it. I attended Parker's funeral yesterday, he was feeling no better, no worse then me.
"I know....." my voice faded.
Somehow, it had hurt even more to hear myself say it. By the time I finally turned around, the funeral was already about to begin as people begun to take their seats.
"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. On behalf of the Rouse family, I'd like to say thank you all for coming, the turnout couldn't be any better. I am, um..Wendy...Parker and Candor were my nephews..I am speaking on behalf of my sister, Miranda Rouse, she was his mother, and on the behalf of my brother-in-law, Daniel Rouse, who was Candor's father. My heart goes out to them, for they have lost both of their children.
Candor was an amazing young man, always optimistic, and always polite. He was a free spirit, and whenever he entered the room, you couldn't help but just light up when he was around. I remember when Candor was 8, and my father had passed, which was also Candor's grandfather, and he approached me after the funeral, all dressed up in a small black tuxedo, with a crooked tie...So he comes up to me, and he asked, 'Aunt Wendy, why do people die?' Not knowing how to respond, I just said, 'Because bad things happen.' He looked at me, with these tiny little sparks in his eyes, and he replied, 'I know what I want to be when I grow up.' When I had asked him what he wanted to be, he just looked at me. His big brown eyes filled with warmth, and hope, and he says, "Aunt Wendy, I want to be a superhero. I want to be a superhero, so people don't have to die. Because I can save them all. Bad things wouldn't have to happen anymore.' In that moment, I couldn't help but smile. He was an innocent, and little did I know, he forever stayed that way...."she trailed off.
In the front row, I saw my parents. My mother's curls looked deflated, and tangled, and she sat in her black dress, weeping, as my father held her close to him. She hadn't once opened her eyes, all she did was listen. Every time my name was mentioned, she flinched, and those times were when the most tears were shed. My father hadn't been any better. Bags hung under his eyelids, his brown eyes lost in thought, his hair wasn't combed at all, and I could tell he was exhausted from consoling my mother every night, every hour, every minute that passed.
Some people came to my funeral that I didn't even know. I scanned the crowd for one person in particular, the one person who had been in the back of my mind forever and always. Most of everyone I knew had shown up, whether it was my teachers, extended family, friends, neighbors, or friendly acquaintances. Just not the one person I was searching for restlessly. My best friend, Andrew, had shown up, as well as my favorite teacher, Mrs. Palette.
"She's not here you know. You know? The one that you desperately want to be here. Yet, at the same time you pretend not to care about whether or not she shows up or not." Parker almost read my mind.
I flick my eyebrow up, and he lets out a loud sigh of 'I don't want to tell you this.'
"I never told you, although I probably should have...The one that got away, Jaime, she couldn't show up." he implied.
His eyes stared into mine, and mine stared into his.
"Jaime's on 51/50. She attempted to kill herself last week. After the incident, she was hysterical, and blamed herself for our deaths. She never forgave herself, and she thinks she's the one that got us all killed, and she thought she was the one that deserved to die the most. Next thing you know, she's climbing onto a ledge, and a whole crowd of people were telling her to jump." his words echoed in my head.
I opened my mouth to say something, but all I could feel was air coming in and out of my lungs.
"Oh." was all I had managed to puff out.
My aunt stepped down from the podium, and my mother took her place on the stand. She could only speak in between sobs, and tears.
"Candor.....please come back," she choked, "you promised me you would come home...."she cried.
Every word made my heart burst into pieces. It hurt to see her this way.
"I-I-..I need you, your dad needs you...Please come back..your-you're my little boy, and I-I need you...,"she hyperventilated.
Please don't, it hurts me to see you this way. She continued sobbing, and I saw my dad stand up to bring my mom down from the podium. I approached her, and I wanted to scream to her that I was okay, but she would never hear me. My dad tugged at her arm, but she swatted him away, and began to tremble.
"I love you Candor...yo-you're my little boy!....M-my little boy...please come back." she wailed, and her voice shook like an earthquake before fading.
She collapsed on the podium, with her face in her hands, and countless tears running down her cheek. I stepped onto the podium, and knelt down beside her. Each breath she took was heavy with grief, and pain. I laid my hand on her shoulder, and she cried even harder. As I watched her weep, my heart sank to the bottomless pit of stomach, and it felt like it would burst at any second. Please mom, please stop crying. I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to bury both of your children, and lost them on the same day. Please. My eyes became glassy, and my own hot tears slowly rolled down my face. For a couple of moments I silently cried to myself, before wiping the tears away from my face. I extended my hand out to her, and gently stroked her on the cheek. She lifted her head, and her eyes were cloudy, and depressed. I attempted to wipe her tears away, but failed because I am no longer alive. All I could do was just stroke her, and put my hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her in some way. Any way, to make her feel safer or better. I'm okay. It'll be okay. I promise, and this time I won't break it.
Words fled out of my mouth, and I kept repeating it. The words I thought I'd never say ever again. Words that meant everything, and nothing at all. The words that kept me hung up, for what felt like lifetimes.
"I'm coming home," I whispered, "I'm coming home to you."