The Funeral (by Nancy Allen)

THE FUNERAL

Seven days ago I died.  Now, nobody will talk to me.

            The Divine Garden Funeral Home was alive with people talking and laughing in the halls.  But, as they entered the small room where my body lay in the light blue casket their laughter gave way to whispers and solemn rectitude.

            “Doesn’t she look natural?” said Susan.

            “Just like she’s asleep,” said Grace.

            “I’m not asleep!  I promise you, I’m not asleep!  I can hear every word you’re saying.  There’s nothing natural about my body lying there.  They put red lipstick on me! I never wear red lipstick!”

            “Speaking of sleeping, I heard she was sleeping with the minister of the Harmony Fellowship Church,” said Grace.

            “I asked her about that, and she never would say.  There was something fishy about her denial,” said Jill.

            “I was not!  Can’t you ever think about anything but sex?  Hey!  I’m standing right behind your chair. You’d better watch what you say!”

            The funeral had to be delayed until the week-end.  Her brothers lived on the west coast and couldn’t afford to give up their work-week.  It wasn’t as if they knew their sister.  They never talked.

            The tall, dark haired minister walked into the front of the chapel.  He held his Bible in one hand and a rose in the other.  He walked over and placed the rose in the casket.

            He turned to the crowd and said, “good morning.  We are here to pay our respects to our dearly beloved departed sister, Margie Null.                                  The girlfriends were in a huddle. “He’s really a looker.  How did she manage to get her hooks into him,” asked Susan.

            The minister continued, “She lived a full and happy life.  Margie visited the sick and tended the poor.”

            “When was he ever sick or poor?” whispered Jill.  The girlfriends laughed.  Some of the congregation turned to stare.  The girlfriends remained quiet for the remainder of the service.

            It had been raining all morning.  Most of the people who attended the service decided to skip the burial.  But, the girlfriends decided to go.  If they didn’t go, it would look like they didn’t care.  The last thing they wanted        was to start a rumor.  With umbrellas in hand, Jill, Susan, and Grace made their way to the burial tent.  They stood next to the family near the casket.

            “That’s a cheap casket,” whispered Susan

            “Fitting, she always was kinda cheap,” said Grace.

            “That does it!  You’re going to pay!” I tripped Grace. She fell headlong in the mud, into the grave.  I guess she broke her neck.  Nobody talks to her now either.  I tried to talk to her, but she wouldn’t respond.  I think she’s mad.   

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            While many of us go about creating mischief celebrating Allhallows Eve (Halloween), we forget about All Saints’ Day.  The day was first set aside by the Roman Catholic Church and the Church of England to remember martyrs; but, gradually came to include others.

            Don’t get tripped up! On November first, set aside some time to remember the good things about family and friends who have gone before you and how they may have influenced your life.  We would not be who we are today without them!