Ah. Today I finally realized, without a doubt, why I despise funeral.
I took off from school today to have a break and get away from that hell mouth as much as I could. I wanted peace and silence today but I end up going to a funeral. An officer who I don't even know lost his son from a gunshot to the head. I was tired and I don't care for this man so, I figure, why should I go? But, nevertheless, I got dressed , got into the car, and my mom drove us there.
At first we went to a wake and I realize something else. I hate church, and preachers, and the people who stay consistently dedicated to it. Why go to a different building and pray? If it's true that "god" is always listening, then why can't you pray in your own home. Apparently, "he" doesn't listen unless you're in a room filled with crosses and senior citizens. And why, may I ask, does the preacher have to talk like we aren't 5 feet from him and doesn't have a microphone which I'm sure is turned up to its full volume? Plus, when he decides that what he says is really important, he screams and breathes like the weight of the world is on his shoulders. I didn't know...that you could get so out of breath from walking slowly in a circle for approximately 15 minutes. It amazes me that all of them seem to do that. Another question? Well, why do people go there every Sunday? And if they really want to be "saved" every day of the ******** week? The man/woman, will say the exact same thing every time. About sinners, how "jesus" died for us and why, and that adults should watch their children and all that other bull. It irritates me to the point where I feel like screaming. Also, for a religion that doesn't take too lightly on the subject of homosexuality, you'll never see a more civilized place to see grown men and women hugging, kissing, holding hands, and repeatedly saying "I love you" to the same sex over and over again.
But, I'm not typing this entry to inform you why I hate churches. It's why I hate funerals.
After the wake, we went to the burial. I tried not to cry because I wanted to feel indifferent. Why should I care about this boy? He probably did something stupid and got what was coming. And I didn't even know him. His family, friends, and friends of friends crowded around his coffin and I still tried not to cry when I saw it. I decided to look around and look for something that would occupy my time other than lamenting over a dead kid. I started looking at the grave stones. Interested in the years they died and how long they lived. But the more I looked at the more I couldn't hold my tears. One man died at 27. At 21. But the one that made me lose it was the tomb of a girl. Her name was Dayna, I remember, and it said, "1996-2004." I thought, Wow, she was 8. What happened? Why? How did her family feel? And then my mom told me that the son of the offier was 17. My age. I broken down. How could I not? My head started swarming with thoughts of my cousin, whom I considered my best friend in my family. What if he died? What would I do? I don't want him to die. I don't want to lose anyone close to me. That girl. She'll never get a job. She'll never go to hishschool. s**t, she'll never sit on the school bus in 5th or 6th grade and talk excitedly about going to middle school. It's incredibly depressing. This is definately not what I got of school for. I'd rather be a grave alone than have my whole family there. I'd rather have time to talk with my loved one alone. And speak to him/her like they were still here.
I never want to go to another one. When a person in my family dies. Tell me when the funeral's over. While the soil's still fresh and the flowers still bloom, I'll visit them. And see how they're doing. But a funeral, never.
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