The funeral

The funeral was today. I was surprised with how composed she was. She had just lost her best friend and her father at the same time to cancer, and she looked passed the negative and into the positive. He wasn’t suffering anymore, and that’s what seemed to matter to her. She must have been well prepared for this whirlwind of emotions.

The whole time I couldn’t help but think about my dad. Have I been unfair to him? Although the majority of my lifetime has been seeing my dad drunk, have I been so bombarded by the negative that I lost sight of the positive? I do miss him, but I had to admit to him that I don’t love him anymore. I love the man he used to be. Was I too harsh? I thought it was the truth, but is it?

I told my dad to not call me until he was doing better, and to not bother telling me if he was. My sister and my mom are good informants on the matter, so I figured I’d spare him wasting time lying to me that he’s better–I’d find out the truth through other means. I havent heard from him since late January, except occasional texts sent also to my sister, or texts from both my mom and dad. I got a text on my birthday, that’s about it. I also assumed he would understand that there’s an exception for my birthday, that I’d rather get a call. Silly me.

So today got me thinking about my dad. If you haven’t been able to tell already.

Back to today. What a day. It was a scene out of a movie, the storm was coming in over the city and hit us hard. Cold gusts, heavy raindrops that wanted you to notice them, and everyone dressed in black huddled together to stay warm. The prayers all in spanish, my mind started to remember my catholic childhood. And my friend, stoic as ever, not a tear until the vary end. As I said my goodbyes, I walked away towards my car and into the gusts of wind and water. For some reason I was drawn to look back at the grave that had just been covered in flowers. There was her older brother. She had told me he wasn’t the best at expressing himself to her dad–he was blunt and didn’t understand how to pick his battles. Even from a distance I could see his guilt. I stopped and just stared, as rude as it sounds, I stared. No one seemed to notice in their haste to get out of the ice-cold rain, so I guess I took advantage of the opportunity. He also didn’t notice me studying him. A huge gust of wind and the clashing of thunder brought me to reality and reminded me that I was on my way to my car to head home. I was the last one in the procession out of there. I snapped this picture through my window. So peaceful, dreary, beautiful–all at the same time. May he rest in paradise.

campos_grave

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