Judgmental Death

It never ceases to amaze me; with a drop of a hat – everyone can be a Broadway star. They cry, flair, stomp their feet, pull their hair, throw themselves over the casket; is this truly their actions, are they truly feeling these emotions and pains or am I looking at them too critically? I think not.

They parade around prancing, noses in the air, the stench of stale liquor following their trail. They make it to the end of the row, look at the casket, knees shake, hands tremble, eyes blur with tears as they step wobbly to the orphan and collapse into a waterfall of tears. I roll my eyes as I watch the horrid disarray takes place. Heartless? Maybe. More chemically imbalanced seem to flock to the scene, they seem to travel in packs, they all smother the orphan trapping him in the middle of a circle of miss placed arms, bodies and affection; they weep as one big blubbering ball of human mess.

I don’t blame the orphan, he doesn’t know better; but the others, the ‘adults,’ I despise them. They ruin every family outing with their antics, they never learn their not welcomed when using. They finish playing out their outrageous play as they whip their eyes, fix their clothes and calmly walk to a pew to sit, bow their heads and pray – the one thing they do right.

My eyes move to the slow moving body coming down the side of my pew, I turn slightly, their shoulders are heavy, head lowered, eyes swollen, their atmosphere screams – lost. They make their way to the casket as they stand a few feet away from the foot. I study them, their body language is different then before; their more frantic this time, more scared – their truly alone this time. A little boy walks down the red velvet carpeted centered aisle to the man – my father.

My nephew hugs him and then looks to the casket, my step mom. This entire time I’ve been sitting comfortably from my pew, watching everyone, taking everything in – and it amazes me on how people act at funerals.