I was welcomed with the smell of flowers and the strong perfume of women. The kind of smell that makes you crinkle your nose, but my face was still. Looking around the room, it was filled with a mixture of things. Smiles, laughs, hugs, kisses. I stood in the doorway with my hands clasped in front of my stomach, not sure what I was supposed to do next. Pulling me out of my stare, my sister reached for my wrist and led me to the back room where we put our purses and cell phones. The two beds were trimmed with pink, making you feel welcome. On the walls were painted pictures, hand prints and photographs. They were at the perfect age. The age where everything is new and exciting. When helping mom is a treat and every bug is your pet. Sucked back to earth by the clicking of heels underneath the hardwood floor, I took a deep breath before re-entering the chaos. The little ladies hugged me, tears streaming down their faces, telling me how special he was. Old stories and memories became the talk of the crowd and the faces quickly turned from sadness to laughter. Realizing I hadn't mentioned any memory or story I backed up from the circle until it was safe to turn away completely. On the table were all of his favorite foods, doughnuts, biscuits, grapes etc. Taking a plate, I made my way around the table grabbing several strawberries and some whip cream that had been especially prepared for him. I scanned the room, staring at the pictures that had been posted on a quark board where I saw my fathers smile in his. A hand landed on my shoulder and the introductions began again. From one group of people to the next, I held a smile and answered yes sir, yes mam until one woman said to me, "You are a lucky girl". I smiled politely, not saying a word and waited until the opportune moment to leave. Was I lucky? I couldn't tell myself. I wasn't sure. Memories faded in and out of my mind all afternoon. The time he bought me my first CD player...it was bigger then I was, but I remember vividly the wrapping paper, the smile on his face, and the perfect sound it seemed to release. My dad hugged me and told me we could leave. My sister and I walked into the back room and grabbed our things, saying one last goodbye to the pleasant pictures. Someone's cell phone was wringing inside their purse with a ringtone that makes you smile because it's so annoying. The day had been confusing. I hated myself for the relationship I shared with my grandfather, which was no relationship at all. At times I was sure I hated him. However, after seeing the faces of people who knew him and the sympathy that came with their smiles, I knew he was different. He was my grandpa, I was his granddaughter and we were related through blood despite our relationship. It was the funeral of a family member. A member I barely knew. I cried not one tear that week. Although, a week later while at college, I found myself crouched, knees to my chest in my car. I cried for 45 minutes. The kind of cry you never want to have. Gasps for air, tears soaking your shirt making it even more impossible to be comfortable. The street light flickered on and off over the top of my car and headlights beamed on the road. With a blurry sight, the town had turned into a city. Street lights popping on everywhere you looked and the sound of the wind reassured me it was cold out. I prayed to God to give me strength to be a better person. That when times are tough and relationships fail, that I would try to mend them. Pride had gotten the best of me, and I lost an opportunity to know an intelligent man.
"God, give me the wisdom I need to be a stronger person, a better witness unto thee and follow in your path, amen"
-I miss you papa.
