The curse

Funeral

Days blurred into nights, and before Daisy could fully grasp it, the day of David’s burial had arrived. The weight of it pressed on her chest like a stone she could not lift. Every morning since his death had been a battle—eating felt impossible, sleep eluded her no matter how exhausted she became, and the walls of her room had become both a sanctuary and a prison. Neither her mother’s gentle coaxing nor Jessy’s firm encouragement could pull her from the shadows she had sunk into.

But on the morning of the burial, something shifted. Daisy rose before dawn, her eyes heavy but dry, her movements mechanical. Without a sound, she slipped out of the house. Her mother, who had been staying with her since the incident, still slept in the guest room, unaware that Daisy had gone.

The streets were quiet, still bathed in the soft gray of early morning. Daisy drove with trembling hands, the steering wheel slippery from the sweat in her palms. Her heart pounded as though each beat counted down to the inevitable moment she would have to let him go.

At the funeral home, the scent of polished wood and faint flowers filled the air, sterile yet suffocating. She clutched a garment bag in one hand and a small bottle in the other—David’s favorite suit and the cologne he always wore when they went out on special dates.

Inside the preparation room, her breath caught in her throat. David lay on the table, dressed in plain white for the moment, his face eerily peaceful, as if he were simply sleeping. The sight was unbearable. Daisy’s knees buckled, and she leaned against the wall for strength. She had always imagined him full of laughter, always teasing her, always brimming with energy. Seeing him still and silent cut deeper than any wound.

With trembling fingers, she handed the suit to the attendant. “This was his favorite,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from nights of crying. “He wore it the day he proposed to me. He said it made him feel invincible. Please… let him wear it one last time.”

The attendant nodded with solemn understanding and helped dress David carefully, almost reverently. Daisy watched, her tears spilling uncontrollably. She uncapped the cologne and sprayed it lightly on his chest and collar. The scent filled the air instantly, familiar and devastating. It was him—the man who had wrapped his arms around her on rainy evenings, who had whispered dreams into her ear, who had promised her forever. Now forever had been cut short.

Her sobs echoed in the quiet room. “Why, David? Why did you leave me? We had so much more to do.” She reached for his hand, cold beneath her touch, and pressed it against her cheek. “I can’t do this without you.”

When it was time, the coffin was closed. Daisy lingered, her hand resting on the polished wood until they gently guided her away.

⸻

The ceremony began mid-morning. The church was filled with friends, relatives, colleagues, and neighbors—faces blurred together through Daisy’s tears. Some came with red-rimmed eyes, others with whispers of sympathy. Every hug, every soft word of condolence chipped away at her composure until she felt raw and exposed.

Jessy stood close by, a steady presence. She guided Daisy to the front row where her mother sat, clutching a handkerchief so tightly her knuckles were white. Daisy’s legs felt heavy as though the aisle were miles long, but she forced herself forward.

The pastor began the service, his words a gentle rhythm of scripture and comfort. He spoke of David’s kindness, his generosity, his unwavering loyalty to friends and family. People nodded, some cried openly, others dabbed their eyes in silence.

When the time came for tributes, Daisy froze. Several people went ahead of her—David’s cousin spoke fondly of their childhood mischief; a colleague remembered his dedication and humor at work. Each story painted a portrait of the man she loved, each memory both a gift and a knife to the heart.

Her name was called, and all eyes turned to her. Jessy whispered, “You don’t have to if you’re not ready.”

But Daisy shook her head. She rose on trembling legs and stepped to the podium. Her hands gripped the edges, her knuckles pale. She opened her mouth, but words failed her at first. Only sobs came. The silence stretched, broken only by her uneven breathing.

Finally, in a trembling voice, she began. “David was… everything. He was my anchor when the world felt too heavy. He believed in me when I doubted myself. He made ordinary days feel extraordinary. And… he promised me a lifetime. We planned a home, children, a future.” Her voice cracked. “Now all I have are memories.”

She broke down, unable to continue. Jessy quickly rose and wrapped her arm around her, leading her back to her seat. The congregation murmured in sympathy, some weeping quietly along with her.

The rest of the service passed in a haze. Hymns were sung, prayers were whispered. The coffin was lifted and carried out, and Daisy followed, numb and dazed, the sound of the choir’s final song echoing in her ears.

⸻

At the graveside, the sun had broken through the clouds, a cruel contrast to the heaviness of the moment. The coffin was lowered into the ground, the sound of the ropes creaking sending a shiver down Daisy’s spine. Each thud of soil against the wood echoed in her chest like a drumbeat of finality.

Family members stepped forward to lay flowers. When it was Daisy’s turn, she approached slowly, clutching a single white rose. She knelt, her tears dripping onto the earth. “Goodbye, my love,” she whispered. “Rest well. I’ll carry you in my heart always.” She kissed the rose and placed it gently on the coffin before retreating, her body wracked with sobs.

After the burial, mourners gathered under a canopy where food and drinks were served, though Daisy barely noticed. People came to her, speaking softly, offering comfort. She nodded politely, her eyes distant, her mind replaying every memory of David—the way he laughed, the way he held her hand, the way he said her name.

Her mother never left her side, quietly wiping her own tears while holding Daisy’s hand tightly, as though afraid she might drift away. Jessy managed the guests, deflecting questions, ensuring Daisy wasn’t overwhelmed.

As the crowd thinned and the sun began to set, Daisy found herself standing at the edge of the cemetery, staring at the fresh mound of earth. The world moved on around her, but she stood still, caught in the chasm between past and future.

She whispered into the wind, “How do I live without you?”

No answer came, only the rustle of leaves and the fading voices of mourners leaving.

Daisy turned and walked slowly toward her car, her steps heavy but deliberate. Something inside her had shifted. Grief still clung to her like a shadow, but beneath it was a faint spark of defiance. She had buried David, but she could not bury herself—not yet. Not while questions about her family’s dark legacy lingered. Not while the deity’s presence haunted her nights.

As night fell, Daisy knew her journey was far from over. The burial had closed one chapter, but the next loomed, darker and more dangerous. She was no longer just grieving; she was preparing—for answers, for truth, for war against the curse that had claimed too much already.