I sit here at a funeral for a woman I barely knew. I'm not sure what emotion to convey: grief, indifference, a willingness to talk to people? I don't know. This isn't really a social situation anyway. This isn't a chance to catch up and talk about your school/career. I don't know how to act when I'm in this kind of situation. There are many people here I know but fear to talk in case I say the wrong thing. What am I supposed to say when they ask, "What was your favorite thing about Jude?" How am I to answer that when I barely remember anything about her? Should I default to the, "She was such a vibrant person who always made everyone happy."? I feel nothing at first except for a nervousness that I won't act or feel correctly. Anyone who comes up i just wanna say, "I don't wanna play the pretend everything's okay so let's catch up game. Move on to someone else." I just hope my short, conversation killer answers are enough to make them give up. I mean there are people I haven't seen in years but I just lost all socializing desires as soon as I entered this funeral home. I may joke about or watch movies about death but when you're immersed in such tangible grief, you find that death isn't as funny as you used to think. Then I see her daughter, the reason I'm even here. She's standing at the front, looking at the pictures of her mom. I sidle up as she's reading her mom's favorite poem and put a hand on her shoulder. She finishes reading and scoffs, saying, "that's just like her" before turning to me to ask how I am. I'm dumbstruck. For her, of all people, to ask me how I'm doing when in the midst of all this grief, is just amazing. After I tell her that I've been fine, give her a hug and offer my condolences, I return to my seat. After I've had enough of the tension in the room, I head outside where half of the guests are catching up since it's so nice and not crowded outside.
Then I see him. The man who made my childhood a living hell. That man (let's call him...Harvey Dent) tries to talk to me but Melissa pulls me away just as he's about to hug me. I feel my heart pounding and my hands shaking but I don't let him see what a mess he has made me in the few minutes since I made eye contact with him. I'm sure he saw the fear in my eyes that still resides in the very memory of him. After the short encounter, I scurry back to the safety of my seat next to my mother, who has returned from socializing and rest my head on her shoulder.
Then the service starts. It's lovely. It's exactly what I want when I die. Jude was cremated so there was no body. Instead, they had a few poster boards that were made and a slide show. The whole service was just an open forum for anyone to come up and share a story about her that they just wanted to get off their chest. There were many touching stories but also funny ones. Laughter is always welcome at my funeral. I would want my friends and family to reminisce about all the good times we had. Jude had obviously enriched many lives in her short time on this earth so I hope to be the same.
R.I.P. Jude Gater
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