I remember it in tones of brown. I don’t recall the pictures on the wall or most of the faces of friends and family grieving, giving me sympathy. I cannot remember the casket color. Was it white and my memories stained it sepia toned? I was sixteen when my father passed away. I was sixteen, unaware of what stage my father’s cancer was in. I was, at least, far more knowledgeable than my siblings who didn’t question the condition he was in. They didn’t even know he had cancer, or if they did they didn’t want to bother my parents into asking how sick he was. I was the only brave one ten months ago that year when his hair started falling out in clumps and when his fair toned skin turned white like death was approaching. I was the only one brave enough to go to one chemotherapy session of his. I ended up locking myself in the hospitals restroom muffling my tears so that my father couldn’t hear me.
Before the wake had started, I was near my grandfather. He was such a strong man, and could not tolerate public displays of emotion, so instead of tearing up in front of me, he spoke, his Irish accent strong, “When your father was a tad younger than you, he was such a trouble maker. There was a graveyard in back of our house, and your father would come home with flowers for your grandmother. She always wondered where he’d get them from until one day she saw him in back of the house, taking the flowers that were perched on top of the graves.” My father never told me that story and I started to wonder how well I knew him after all.
I approached the room where my father was laid to rest. The last time I had seen him was on a stretcher, at the hospital. I tried my best to prepare myself as I went down what seemed like a long, ever-lasting corridor. The stench of fresh flowers hit me before I reached the doorway. A combination of lilacs, lilies and roses invaded my sinuses as I finally laid my eyes on what I had been searching for. One piece of the puzzle wouldn’t fit together for I was unable grasp the scent of living floral with the sight of death in front of me. It was nauseating but I couldn’t peel myself from the room. I stood statuesque in front of his casket, oblivious to any social graces I should uphold as I faintly started to hear guests arriving.
As coworkers, friends of the family and their company started to flood the tiny room to pay their respects, I sat quietly on a couch on the opposite wall where my father was. I leaned back and rested my head against the top of the Victorian style love seat trying not to make eye contact with anyone. It was hard enough to concentrate on not tearing up and I knew looking at their dejected expressions I wouldn’t be able to keep my misery at bay.
“I’m so sorry. Your father was a great man.”
Startled, my eyed focused on where the voice had come from. It was Mike, my fathers “best friend”. His face was drenched with sympathy and I appreciated the concern he had for me. I muttered a quick, “Thank you” as he walked back to his family.
At that moment, I felt completely alone in a room full of people. The dam was broken. Tears that had finally surfaced stung my tired eyes and I buried my head in my hands. I felt bleak. My mood was black and blue and I couldn’t shake off the feeling that I no longer had my father. Why couldn’t this had happened when I was older, when he could see me graduate from college and carry on the family genes? My future husband will never get the honor of being introduced to this “great man”. I get to tell my children that their grandfather was wonderful but they could never get to meet him. My grandfather came over and expressed to me that I should leave the building as I was making a scene and I shouldn’t make guests uncomfortable. Social graces.
The wake was as traditionally Irish as my mother could make it. She said it was what my father wanted. Copious amounts of food and drink were provided, there was a Rosary service and my fathers friends spoke greatly of him. I was happy when it was all over with and joined my father once again in silence until it was time to go home.
i do not know if this is good or not and right now i do not care i NEED SLEEP. 
