Tuesday, July 21, 2009

"Never Special," Ghoulish, pt. 5, 386 words

I can't keep my mind on events. I try, but I just can't. It's too... too alien. That's the only word I can come up with. I never really tried to imagine what my grandmother's death and funeral would be like, but there's a lurking conviction somewhere deep in my gut that it shouldn't have been this way. It's hard to explain, except that I feel like I'm just going through the motions, practicing for the real funeral. Except this is the real one. I sigh quietly and keep from shaking my head at it.

I glance surreptitiously up and down the rows of seats, and realize that, like Mom and Gramp, I'm one of the only people here on my own. My aunts and uncle have their spouses sitting next to them. My older cousins have their spouses and children. My younger cousins have their siblings.

Another point of victory my aunts like to score against my mother. Almost all of my cousins who are now married, they managed it younger than me. One of my younger cousins has his girlfriend and their child there. Everyone grants their tacit approval for his child born out of wedlock, I reflect bitterly, while Mom was given all kinds of passive-aggressive bullshit for daring to not stay with Dad, treated as if I was as good as born a bastard myself. I don't begrudge the child anything, much less for being loved by its family, but I can begrudge my aunts for the double-standards at work.

No, I'm not much fond of my extended family. Is it that hard to tell?

Still, while I'm glancing over everyone there with someone else to lean on... Well, I can be a little envious without burning too much karma, I figure. But I don't know who I'd bring with me, to satisfy that envy, to sit beside me and hold my hand...

No, I do. I know precisely who I'd bring, and it's the same person that leaves me feeling I'm taking part in a dress rehearsal of a funeral, not the real thing.

It's been nearly a month now, that I haven't heard a thing. After two weeks, and him never answering his phone, I started looking into things that might've happened. News reports, police blotters, that kind of thing.

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