In my twenty-five years of living, I've never been to a funeral.
My grandmother, Sarah Hope Dickson, died on the day I was born. My mother named me in memory of her. Shortly after, my grandfather died. Eva and Adam were the only ones old enough to attend the funeral. Dad's parents are still very much alive even after ninety-seven years of living. All my aunts and uncles and cousins are still healthy and kicking and breathing. For the longest time, the town referred to 'The Stones' as the "Forever Family". This tragedy just ripped away that title.
We just buried Dad.
I'm sitting in the back of the car, sandwiched between Jack and Billie. We're driving back home after a long endless day of eulogies and condolences.
I can't believe that we just left Dad locked up in a casket, buried six
