I sat there. Not moving or thinking, just watching. I watched everyone move around the room. Some laughed, some cried, some thought deeply, and some were eating. I searched the room for my brother. He was there, in the corner of the room at a table. His head buried in his arms lying on top of the table, I could tell he was still crying. The memories were probably replaying over and over in his mind. I knew because they were also replaying in mine. Every now and then someone would come and try to comfort him, but he just acted like they weren’t even there. After standing behind him awkwardly for a while they would give up and leave. Earlier he had made me burst into tears. We were walking up the aisle after the service and he could barely walk; his body shook so hard. His head was bent down straight towards the floor; tears streamed down his face. That was what hurt the most, seeing my big brother cry.
His best friend walked past me, gave me a weak smile, and then sat down next to my brother. He didn’t say anything, didn’t make him eat, and didn’t touch him; he just sat there. I knew that his friend would sit there forever if that’s what my brother needed him to do. That’s a true friend, not like all my friends who were all outside socializing. They were all sitting in the grass eating and talking about something that was apparently very funny. I’m just glad that they were outside not inside. I knew that if I asked them to come inside and sit with me they would all rush to my side and try their hardest to be helpful. It wouldn’t help though, because there is nothing they could do. There isn’t anything anyone can do. I shoved those thoughts to the back of my mind. Those thoughts just bring more tears, and my head hurt so badly from crying. I was sure my head was doing all it could just to keep from exploding… and crying again wouldn’t help anything.
I got up to get some water and then went back to the large leather chair I was sitting in. It was large enough that it could probably swallow me up. I almost wished it would. I wanted to leave this room, this building, this place, and this stupid world where dads kill themselves and leave their families with nothing but pain. What was her dad even thinking? How on earth would he think that killing himself would help? I was so mad no, not mad, furious. I was so furious that I wanted to… I wanted to… words failed me. What did I want to do? What could I do? Nothing… yeah that’s it, nothing. Just nothing.
I looked around the room again, just in time to see my mom leave the room trying to hold back the tears. That was like my mom, can’t stand crying in front of people. I slowly got out of the big leather chair and started to walk towards my mom. I saw her go back into the sanctuary. She walked down the center aisle towards my dad’s picture, uniform, and flag. Mom gently picked up the picture and gazed at dad’s smiling face. That was the last picture they took of him. I remembered the day. It was a perfect day, a nice warm breeze, beautiful colors on the trees, and the whole family was together. All eight of us posing for our annual family photo shoot. Little Caroline, just turned four, wearing her new pink dress she had been waiting to wear. James, seven, in his favorite shirt, his “lucky shirt”, he always said. Michael, ten, in his new Converse he had been begging for since he was eight. Martha, twelve, in her blue jeans and t-shirt, that’s what she always wore. Then me, Alice (fourteen), my teal necklace stood out nicely with my peach sweater. Then there was Tim, sixteen, his red hair shining brightly in the August sun. We all huddled by the big tree in our backyard. The one we took pictures by every year. The younger ones sat in the lowest limbs while the rest of us stood below them making sure they don’t fall. If someone had told me right then that dad would be dead within a month I wouldn’t have believed them. I would have rolled my eyes and tell them to go check themselves into the insane asylum. Dad was always so happy. Sure, he had his bad days… but I never thought it would come to this. He always had a smile on his face. He was always telling us stupid jokes to make us laugh. We never did, oh how I wish I would have! I wish I could hug him one last time. Or at least have gotten to say goodbye.