Speak

We walked hand in hand into the church. I saw my mother sitting in the front row of pews along with the pastor. The loud clanking of the door as it closed caused them both to look back at us, noticing our presence. Walking down the center of the aisle toward the casket, we made our way over to them. The coffin had already been closed, which was perfectly fine by me.

“Ah, yes. Your mother told me you”d be joining us. Let’s get started, shall we?”

The pastor walked up to the pulpit at the head of the church. When I looked back at my mom, I noticed her sitting slack-jawed. She rubbed her eyes for a second before mouthing the words, “IS THAT LEXI HARLOW?”

I nodded while grinning at the childlike nature she exhibited. Lexi, on the other hand, was too busy looking at the casket directly in front of us. I wondered if this reminded her of her own father”s funeral. The last thing I wanted was to bring up any kind of trauma for her.

“Are you okay?” I whispered in her ear as we took our seats next to my mother.

“Yeah, I just keep thinking about how I felt when I attended my dad”s funeral and how far I”ve come since then.”

Growing from the pain was possible. What once felt so far away now seemed within my reach.

Sitting down on the pews next to my mom, we watched silently as the pastor began.

***

After speaking for a while, the pastor rolled out a projector and played a short slide show with old pictures of my father. It wasn’t a normal thing to do at funerals, but seeing as how most things involved loved ones and no one had bothered to show up, we had decided to merge the ceremony and the reception. It was crazy how much of a decent person my father seemed to be on the outside. By looking at him, you couldn’t tell that he left a trail of destruction behind him. I guess that’s why people say not to judge a book by its cover. Usually, it’s because personalities were better than appearances, but in this case, it was the other way around. This just goes to show we shouldn’t make any assumptions based on physical features…at all. Cute baby pictures, though. After the slide show ended, the pastor read several passages from the Bible, most of them claiming my father was in a better place filled with joy. My mother stifled a laugh at that statement, causing me to clamp my palm over my mouth in an attempt to hide my snicker as well. Next, it was time for the music chosen by the family to be played. Usually, the person who died would have decided which music to play beforehand, but my dad wasn”t the creative or sentimental type; therefore, the responsibility of the songs was left in the hands of his mother. Even though she wasn’t here, my grandma had chosen several instrumental pieces composed of piano and violin symphonies to be showcased at my father”s wake. They were all beautiful. I was actually kind of surprised she didn’t choose something more along the lines of an angry screamo. When the music ended, the pastor called on my mother to give the eulogy.

“Claire, at this time, you may now take the stand and share any thoughts or memories you have of the deceased,” he said while taking his seat next to the pulpit.

Smoothing out her skirt, my mom rose to her feet and slowly walked to stand behind the podium. She cleared her throat and opened her mouth as though she were about to begin, but closed it suddenly. Squeezing her eyes shut, she started to speak.

“Michael, you were loved dearly and will be missed deeply by everyone.” Opening her eyes after that statement, she seemed to scan the room, taking in the emptiness that was present. “Who am I kidding? There’s no one here.” She let out a small scoff before continuing, “Michael, you will not be missed, and I think that’s evident by the number of people who decided not to show up today.” The pastor gasped. Clearly, he was not used to people expressing any other emotion while at a funeral other than sadness and love. He was in for a shit show today. My mom looked over at me to gauge my reaction. I smiled at her and motioned for her to continue. This was her truth. She was entitled to it. Sighing, my mother continued, “I want to believe that I loved you at some point, but after having our daughter and knowing what real love feels like, I can confidently say that I didn’t feel that way about you. We are only humans, and we all make our fair share of mistakes, but you never learned from any of them. I am thankful to you because of the daughter you gave me, but honestly, I think we will manage just fine without you here.”

The pastor, who was very uncomfortable by this point, ushered my mom off the stage as she took her seat next to us again. I squeezed her hand as she sat down in solidarity with her speech. She curled her lips upward and mouthed thank you.

“Autumn, if you would like, you may now come up and say any words you want to share.” He then continued on to list examples, hoping I would heed his words, “Some people share memories, or song lyrics, or what they will miss about the dearly departed.”

Lexi let out a breathy laugh. She knew exactly what was going to happen. I smirked at the pastor and then stood to take my place on the podium, where my mom had just been. This time, instead of sitting down, the pastor simply took a few steps backward while eying me, probably questioning my motives. I wasn’t used to, as my dad put it, “vomiting my feelings all over the place,” but talking to Lexi and my mother earlier had opened the floodgates. All I had to do was stop thinking about what everyone else thought and focus on what I thought. Focus on my own voice. My emotions were valid, even though they could be considered cruel or harsh. I was entitled to my own feelings, and that was something no one could take away from me. Taking a deep breath, I let all the words I had wanted to say to my father flow out like a river.

“Dad, you brought me into this world, and then you left, not because you died, but because you abandoned us. I used to blame myself. I thought I caused all of this, but then I realized you were just too weak to stay,” I confessed while my hands clenched the sides of the pulpit.

The pastor interjected, “Autumn, maybe you shouldn’t—”

My mom interrupted him. “Let her finish,” she demanded.

With a slow downward turn of his head, the pastor remained silent.

Biting my lower lip, I continued on with my speech. “Sometimes calling you a father doesn”t even feel right. I don’t think you even knew what being a father really meant. For so long, I thought you broke our family apart, but today, I realized I have all the family I need here with me.” My mom brought her hand up to her chest and laid her palm over her heart. I did the same. “You wanted to be alone so bad…well, you got your wish. You pushed everyone away so well that no one even bothered to show up to your funeral. Don’t worry, though; I’m here. Not because I want to reminisce or mourn your passing, but because I need to tell you something. I don’t need you, and I never have. All the love I need is right here in front of me.” I smiled down at my mother. “Goodbye, dad. See you never,” I chuckled dryly.

I walked away from the stage and back toward the pews. I didn’t get the chance to sit back down because, as soon as I got to the bench, my mother enveloped me in a hug. She wasn’t mad at my words, for the same reason I wasn”t mad at hers. We said what we needed to say because she was right in what she had told me earlier—funerals were for the living, not the dead. If this was what it took to move on, then that’s all that mattered. People often said not to speak ill of the dead, but those people hadn’t met my father. Not everything needed to be romanticized.

What good did lying to not only yourself but also everyone else do? Who did it benefit? No one.

After pulling away from the hug, we both sat back down. I felt Lexi intertwine our fingers.

“Are you okay?” She asked.

“Yeah, I really think I am.”

Our attention was back on the pastor when he began to stutter, “Um, oh-okay…” He fidgeted with his robe in an attempt not to appear so disheveled. “And young lady, I’m afraid I don”t know your name, but if you would like to come up and say a few words, now is the time.”

My mom and I paused, then turned toward each other while shaking our heads. We both blurted out,

“Umm, she’s not—”

“Uh, I don’t think—”

Lexi stood swiftly and answered, “I’d love to.” This caused my mom and I to stare at each other in confusion. Lexi walked over to the pastor. He looked like he was about to faint after hearing all the things we had revealed earlier. I take it he had no idea what kind of man he would be speaking about at today”s memorial service. “Michael,” Lexi cleared her throat while glancing at the pastor, “How dare you intentionally light my house on fire and kill my cat?” The pastor all but lost his shit when Lexi spoke. His eyes became wide, practically bulging out of his head, as he let a quiet, high-pitched squeak escape from his lips. I slapped my thighs while expelling a loud laugh, and my mom covered her mouth with her hand, trying to suppress hers. Lexi cracked a smile, then continued, “But no, in all honesty, I know what it’s like to have a complicated relationship with your father, but Michael, you really missed out on getting to know Autumn. She is by far one of the strongest and most amazing people I have had the pleasure of meeting. I didn’t know you well, or, for that matter, at all, really, but I still want to thank you. Your daughter is such a great person, and for some reason, I think that is because you didn’t raise her. So, fuck you for abandoning her, but thank you for making sure she turned out nothing like you.”

Lexi was courageous. I would never get up at a stranger”s funeral and say what was on my mind, but I was glad she felt like she could. Even before meeting her, I knew she always said what she was thinking, and I was someone who tried to live by the same sentiment. Maybe I learned that by listening to her music. What she said up there at the podium only made me more sure that I had made the right choice in sharing my story with her.

“Thank you,” I mouthed silently to her.