Page 54 - Reason To Sing by Kelita Haverland

Reason To Sing

Male family members begin to congregate and Jimmy, Frankie
and Billy are directed to stand with them. Together they will
carry the casket.
A man in a long dark coat unlatches the rear door of the
hearse. With white gloved hands, he pulls the shiny mahogany
casket out of the car. The first two pallbearers take hold of the
handles.
There is something very formal about death. So much
ceremony. The funeral, the graveside, the clothes, the music.
People only speak in hushed tones as if they might awaken the
dead. They dress in their Sunday best and shine their shoes.
We follow closely behind the casket, as instructed. I can’t
look at any of the people smiling sadly. I just look down.
Another step. Down. Don’t trip. Down. It still feels surreal.
The harsh violence of my father’s death. Excruciating pain for
which there are no words. I will never find them. Ever. My soul
is weeping.
I can feel their eyes on us. What are they thinking? What
are they really saying behind closed doors? Are they looking
for clues in our faces? Perhaps waiting for a knowing glance
or a secret touch between family members? Who’s crying?
Who is not reacting? Who is crying too much? Everyone is so
curious. They just want to take it all in and then draw their own
conclusions. Wrap it all up in a pretty box that they can hide
away forever. Because after all, they are not us!
I can only imagine some of the conversations:

Well, you know they had been separated for six months.

Is it true they had seen each other that very day?

I heard it was Oleg who found him.

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