An emotion is a funny thing. We all know that they can be there, but we don’t know how they come to be or why we have them. We’re moved by our emotions, and it seems that everything anyone does is motivated by them. As of right now though, I don’t feel anything. I feel like I should be feeling something. I wonder if that makes me crazy? Or a sociopath? Or do I just not care anymore?
I snap out of my haze to look around. Everyone is dressed in black and tears are drenching their faces and napkins. I bite my lip out of awkwardness as I realize I am the only person not paying attention to the ceremony. I look away from the crowd of people in front of me to look at the picture right next to me that’s blown way too big for comfort. He was smiling, but I knew better than that. His brown eyes held the pain of a thousand men. His sleek hair was fake, to cover up the fact that he had none. His paleness was edited out, and he was made to look tan like he did before he got sick. Why am I the only one bothered by this picture? Does no one else see?
My father takes a step down from the stand, pain etched clearly into every part of his face. It was clear he is hurting, but who wasn’t? Well, I guess just me. He turns his head towards me and waves towards the stand, signaling my turn. I have been dreading this moment since the day I was told I had to do this. I don’t want to, but I also don’t have a choice. I take a deep breath, stand up from my chair, and slowly walk towards the stand. Every step I take, it seems to be getting further away. Out of frustration, I close my eyes and grab a hold of the stand. Whatever happens now is solely up to fate.
I open my eyes, and everyone is staring at me with their own creepy pairs. Anyone could tell in my spot that they were all holding their breath, as if they didn’t know what to expect. I laughed a little: it is a funny sight.
I started to speak with a smile on my face, “You know, I still don’t know what to say. I still don’t feel like he’s even left yet. Everyone is expecting me to showcase all these sad emotions, all this anger, but I just don’t feel anything like that. He was my best friend. Of course I miss him. But at the same time, I’m glad he’s gone. He was in constant pain, and no one could tell but me. He smiled for you all and made sure to not let anyone worry. I had seen through it all though. He’s not in pain anymore, and he sure as hell isn’t faking for anyone anymore. This to me is just a relief. I’ll love him for life, but I’m glad he’s gone.”
The gasps and whispers were instantaneous. I shrug and step down from the stand. I look at my dad, who is more shocked than anything, and my mom’s anger is written all over her face. I stood down and looked into the open casket. Everything about him looks wrong, but I knew it is still my Brian. I hold the end of his casket and stare down at my deceased half and whisper knowing this is the last time I’ll be seeing him in person, “I love you big brother, I don’t think I ever really told you that enough.”
