the funeral.

After mulling it over in my head for quite sometime, I decided I would go to the funeral. Sort of, that is. I wasn’t going to go an mourn and cry with everyone else. I was going to watch from a distance to see how people were mourning. I knew that it was a graveside funeral at holy name’s cemetery in Colma.

I wasn’t going to have more drama in my life. I wasn’t going because it was a thing to write about. I was going for what I hoped would be some closure. That’s all I really wanted. For some reason, slicing the man apart piece-by-piece just wasn’t good enough. In fact, it was awful!!! The say that revenge is a dish best served cold. Well, doing an autopsy… you can’t get any colder then that. I basically just wanted to see how I would feel, now that revenge would never really happen, even though in my wildest dreams I wish it could still.

I could start this with “it was a beautiful day in the lovely city…” but I don’t like sugar coating things that often. Instead, I will say I went to the cemetery and stood several yards away. I couldn’t hear the priest, but I could see the jerk’s wife and daughter at the side of the grave. The daughter looked bored. I half smiled because I think that is exactly the look Ricky would give at a funeral. His wife looked devastated. I felt sorry for her. Suicide is a chicken’s way out.

I was half hidden behind the large head stone thinking to myself when the funeral ended.
I had brought a book (“everything is illuminated” one of my favorites) to “read” as people were leaving so I would go unnoticed. I sat and read the book until everyone left. Then I just stared at the grave where the coffin was lowered.

I knew he was there before he even said anything. I didn’t hear him. I didn’t see him. I sensed him. I didn’t look up. I didn’t move. But I wasn’t scared. I sat there quietly in the breeze and said, “I have nothing to say to you.”

Jerk 2 quietly said, “Nothing I can say will ever be enough.”

Your damn right, I thought to myself. I stood there, watching the grave, with him at my side. He stared straight ahead. You could cut the tension of memory with a knife. It made the crisp air damp with remorse and pain. Eventually, j2 broke the silence with a single sentence, “I will be at starbucks down the street and I hope you will come so I can talk to you.” With that, he turned and left.

Stay tuned… Ricky is crying.

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3 Responses to “the funeral.”

  1. Shigeta Says:

    Wow. Who was he? What happened? I am glad you got some order of closer.

  2. fog city mommy Says:

    Jerk 2. Jerk 1 committed suicide, jerk 3 killed in Iraq. Jerk 2. all together, they gave me the second worst night of my life, coming in only second to the night my dad died.

    use your imagination. yep. you got it. 😦

  3. I believe this is heaven to no one else but me… « Foggy City Mommy Says:

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