I don’t really get whole stories in my head.  Instead, I get short powerful scenes.  And that’s it.  I found this snippet while going through my computer.  I have no idea when I wrote it or what direction I was going in it.  But I thought I’d share anyway.

 

“Nothing quite as noble as death.” she whispered as she gazed at the cold tombstone. “I hated you in life, and I pity you in death.” The tears in her eyes stung but she refused to let them fall down her cheeks. A cold, bitter laugh worked it’s way out of her throat. “I should have been able to love you in life, and miss you in death.” She swallowed, “An obligatory rose,” she placed a red rose on the coffin and looked around. The few people who had braved the below zero temperatures for her father had already cleared the cemetery. “It figures,” she said bitterly. The funeral home director anxiously watched her, waiting for her to leave so that he could give the go ahead to the grave diggers and leave.

She wasn’t even sure why she was still standing there, alone. The only thing she knew was that she couldn’t make herself move. The biting cold had numbed her cheeks and chin, her feet felt like ice blocks, and her fingers could feel the bitter wind through her gloves. She looked at the frozen rose she had placed on the coffin. “It’s fitting,” she said to herself, “a frozen rose for someone who had a frozen heart.”

“You don’t mean that,” she heard a familiar, deep voice behind her.

Quickly she turned to find the son of her father’s business partner, Darius, standing behind her.

She forced a weak smile at him. Now was not the time to argue.   She had to argue with her father since she was a small child, she was tired of it. Her father knew how to give good appearances to people. Some people would miss him. They would mourn a stranger. Only she knew what he really was, and only she would be conflicted. Of course, she would mourn the loss of her father, but she would mourn it as someone who never really was. She never considered the man buried as her father, only the person who helped give her life. And that would be the person she would miss, her life giver. But buried in the coffin was a person most people would never know about. A monster only she had known. And it was that person, that monster, she was almost glad, or at least relieved, to see go.

She wasn’t alone. Darius held her to comfort her. But she didn’t want his comfort. He thought he was comforting the loss of her father, when she needed comfort for the loss of the monster. Instinctively, she pulled away.

“You don’t have to be strong by yourself,” he said reprimanding her for her courage.

She looked at him. It was as if he was speaking in a foreign language to her. The only thing she could do was to shake her head and walk toward the limo. It wasn’t her choice to ride in the family limo provided by the funeral home, but she was the only family left. As good as her dad was at keeping appearances, she was determined to do so also. But now, it seemed to mock her. She slid into the limo and waited for the driver to walk around. The car was cold and big.

Tears she managed to hold in for the past week finally worked their way down her cheeks. “I only thought I was alone before,” she mumbled. A nervous feeling deep inside began to grow. For the past week, time seemed to stop as she took care of the details. As if someone had hit the pause button on her life, now it felt like the play button had been pressed. “Time to get into the routine of life again,” she whispered as the limo pulled away.

At the luncheon, church members approached her tentatively. “I’m sorry for your loss,” one would say with words but with eyes asking how she could have abandoned a sick father.

Some didn’t talk to her at all. Choosing to snub her as if punishing her for leaving her father alone when he had been so sick.

 

Others, who had been taught politeness and mistook it for charity, talked to her and even gave her comforting hugs. She couldn’t hug them back. Even though she knew they had no idea what kind of man her father was, she still associated them with him. The most she could do was to thank the people for their kindness and attentiveness to her ailing father. What she wanted to do was to run out of the church and never return.

Instead, she continued to stand and let people either glare at her or approach her. Either way, she barely noticed anyone. The only word that came to her mind was, “Orphan.” Though that seemed ridiculous. Who ever heard of a 28 year old orphan?

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” a familiar voice said.

She looked into the eyes of a friend from high school.

“How long will you be in town?” Her friend asked.

“Not long, just a few days to tie up some matters.” She hated that her voice sounded so weak and pitiful.

“Let’s get together and do lunch,” her friend smiled and touched her elbow.

Instinctively, she drew back. But was upset at herself for doing so. It was what this place did to her. She wanted to explain it was his fault that she couldn’t stand to be touched. Instead, she forced a weak smile. “I’d like that, call me.”

Her friend nodded her head and stepped away so that others could give condolences.

She wanted to be done with it. Though she hadn’t communicated with her father in ten years, an overwhelming sense of loneliness enveloped her. Her soul felt dark and no light could penetrate it.

People finally stopped coming and the gym emptied out. Was that a normal amount of people for a funeral? She wondered. Do funerals usually last this long? Or was his shorter? She couldn’t imagine his funeral being longer than anybody else’s.