A Death - Anne Wright

Will walked behind the casket as the pallbearers led him to the front of the church. He walked as though he were moving through cold water, pulling his legs forward, his body following their lead. His head was down. His shoulders curled forward like a defeated animal. As he passed by our pew I wanted to stretch my arm out to help him, but John, sitting next to me tightened his grip on my hand.

I think the funeral went on a little too long. One after another of Diana’s friends, then her brother read rambling remembrances, choking and crying, then laughing, a few feeble caws to hide their grief. I tried to pay attention but I sat as still as I could, eyes closed, not even wanting to swallow, until my saliva went down my throat in a gulp so loud I imagined the organ player could hear it. Behind my closed eyelids my mind rested in a spotty grey fog and waited for it all to be over. When I felt John nudge my arm I awoke from like from the dream; I wasn’t asleep but I felt fuzzy all over. I opened my eyes. The church was dim, we were all dressed in dark colors hoping to be diminished in the shadows, and we all stood up stiffly when it was over.