GOOD GRIEF

 The sun peeked through the black curtains in my room, signaling another chance to meet new people. I wasn't in the mood to make friends, though. I've got all I need right in my bed. Rolling over and attempting to forget about the world seemed very tempting. I did just that, and, man, it felt so calming. For a moment the reminder that my family was hosting yet another funeral was in the back of my mind. Then it hit me.

Fresh tears began to stream down my face, erasing evidence of the old ones. My chest began to tighten, and the familiar feeling of grief took over my entire body. A sore throat stopped any sound from coming from my mouth. All I could do was cry silently and pray that God, himself, heard me. 

The new morning process had become repetitive at this point: open eyes, cry, ask questions, cry again, hide from the world. 

I should fully understand what's happening by now. It should've hit me that there was another death in the family, but that's not what I've been seeing. Someone died-yes, but I still see everyone around me. No one seems to be missing.

Am I seeing dead people?

Are we mourning someone that is still walking amongst us?

The questions I've asked myself every day are the ones that I'm not sure that I want an answer to. If anything, it's me who has become invisible.

Nevertheless, I had an event to attend. People were expecting me whether they saw me or not. I had to be there.

My dressing-up process had ended just as fast as it had begun. I did the bare minimum to make it through today.

The next hour or two leading up to the funeral was a blur. I honestly don't remember any of it. 

The next thing I know, I'm sitting on the front pew watching my family interact. The exchanges were sad ones. Countless strangers had comforted my parents, trying to make them forget their loss for even a brief moment.

I still wonder: What did they lose? Who did they lose?

It wasn't until my mother went to stand in front of the congregation after removing the loose sheet covering the memorial picture that I finally understood what was happening. 

Everyone was right where they should be. My aunts, uncles, and cousins-both distant and immediate-filled the seats behind me. My grandparents took the spaces on the other side of my parents next to me.

Once more, I looked at the huge picture in the front of the church. What I saw was my reflection smiling back at me. 

This morning's grief washed over me as I absorbed my new reality. My family was missing someone.

They were missing me...