Page 125 of Becoming Us
He’s not there.
He’s gone.
Your dad’s gone.
Another image. Him in that hospital bed. So different from the man I remembered. Then, just as suddenly, the echo of his laughter in my ears.
I cleared my throat, ignoring the glance Ilana shot me, and the priest began to speak. People sang all the same songs I’d grown up hearing. Maybe they’d turned on the heat, or maybe it was just me, but as time dragged on, the collar of my shirt began to suffocate me.
Ilana stood before I even registered it. She stepped onto the small stage, unfolded a piece of paper, and began to read.
“Thank you to all of you who came…”
That was as far as I got. My lungs filled and emptied too fast, the rush of breath in my ears louder than everything else—louder than my sister, louder than the sniffling around me. Likethey’d been the ones sitting with him through chemo, like they’d listened to him be sick over and over again.
Why was I doing this?
For who?
For them?
For him?
He wasn’t even in there.
He was?—
I coughed into my hand.
“Are you okay?” my mother asked. She wore dark sunglasses, but the skin around her nose and mouth was red, like she’d been crying. Was that real? Or was it just another act?
I clenched my teeth and blinked hard, eyes locking on the casket.
Not here.
Where the fuck else, then? I couldn’t just leave.
And then the room stilled even more. I blinked again and caught my sister’s face through the blur. Tear-streaked. She was beckoning me closer.
No.
My hand curled tight around the paper, crushing it in my fist.
I can’t do this.
He’s not here.
He’s never going to be here ever again.
Before I could register my mother’s call or the tug on my jacket, I was already turning away—from him, fromit—rushing out of the church. The doors groaned and creaked as I pushed them open, then again behind me as they clattered shut. My footsteps echoed through the empty hall. No one followed.
I didn’t stop until I found a bathroom—mercifully empty—and began pacing. Back and forth. Again and again.
He’s gone.
The full force of it kept hitting me in waves.
I was at my dad’s funeral. He was gone. He was inside that box. And they were going to bury him in the ground.
