Funeral by Isabel Night

Funeral by Isabel Night

Dammit, girl, don’t start!

I don’t want to be here, sitting at Biglow Funeral Home, preparing to bury my grandfather.  Sure, the wood-varnished, cathedral-styled room looks nice, but décor aside, Grandpa Joseph needs me now—more so than when he was alive.

If you start crying, you won’t stop.

All my life, I was raised to believe that family comes first.  Thus, it’s my duty to observe the proper rituals so he can safely reach God.  Sounds odd?  Maybe for a casual Roman Catholic, but not in my family.  That means I have todo my part to make sure Grandpa’s funeral goes smoothly— in this case, choosing an appropriate set of readings from our parish’s Book of Readings for the priest to use at Mass.

The viewing’s a small affair with only three of us and several of Grandma’s friends.  Across the room, my grandmother sobs beside her husband’s coffin.   To her right, my dad—almost inconsolable—tries to comfort her.  I worry that his hand on her shoulder and reassuring words isn’t enough…

Grandpa’s body lies in a polished white coffin.  He’s dressed in his favorite, formal charcoal gray suit, white shirt, red paisley tie, and cufflinks.  This outfit was his ‘Sunday Best’ and he insisted on being buried in it—

“What’s he doing here?”

Grandma Susan’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts.  A bald man enters the room, wheeling himself toward Grandpa’s coffin; ignoring Grandma’s ‘glare o’ death.’  “Great-Uncle Robert?”  I murmur.  “Why is he here?”

Frowning, I go back to the Book of Readings.  Robert’s irrelevant.  Stay focused.  You’ve got a job to do.

There’s a reason why he’s not welcome on our side of the family.  Robert’s a dickhead— a notorious asshole who treated my grandpa like shit for years.  Manipulative, he played the role of Great-Grandpa’s favorite child.  And Great-Grandpa certainly spoiled him like one, too.  That still rubs a lot of us the wrong way.  Again, why is he here?  He’d better have a damn good excuse—

“Get out!”  Grandma yells… before suddenly lunging at Robert.  Dad grabs her, preventing her from reaching him.  Recognizing that narrow, gritty gaze, I know she’s determined to kill.

“Mother, stop!”

Dad yanks her back… and Grandma almost trips over herself.  Holy crud!  She doesn’t hit the floor, but is back on her feet faster than I expected.  Whew, safe!

“No!   He treated my husband like dirt and got away with it for years!  Why is he here now?”

“Sit back down.   This isn’t the time for a fight.”

“Seriously, you guys?  You had to do this now?”  I say, shaking my head.  Does Grandma realize that everyone’s staring at us?  Ugh!  This is so embarrassing.  Dad’s right—go fight elsewhere.

C’mon, you guys are adults!   Do I have to be the mature one?!

Slamming the book onto the chair next to me, I turn to the only person I sympathize with at the moment: Dad.  “Do you need any help?”  I ask him.

He nods.  Before long, I’m on the other side of the room.

“Sit down,” I tell my grandmother, helping my dad.  “He hasn’t done anything.”

“He shouldn’t be here in the first place!”

Robert shakes his head.  What is that look in his green eyes?  Sorrow?  Disappointment?  Could he have genuinely come to apologize to Grandpa after all these years?

If he has, then a public tussle isn’t going to help.  I don’t remember exactly how we did it, but Dad and I managed to get Grandma back into her seat.  Seconds later, she tries again to lunge at Robert.  Now it’s obvious she needs to be moved somewhere else, like the other side of the room.

“Stop!”  I snap.  “Robert’s acting like an adult!  More so than you!  Now grow up, stop causing a scene, and let him pay his respects!”

“Bitch!”  Grandma snaps back.  “Don’t tell me what to do!”

The guests gasp, and my father echoes them.  Surprised— mainly because she disapproves of Dad and me cussing— I clench my fists and storm out of the parlor toward the small bathroom.

In five minutes, we’ll proceed to our church.  Perfect!  The funeral’s already been ruined!

& & &

To my relief, Robert stayed at the back of the crowd during the interment.  Added bonus: there wasn’t any drama during Mass.  Good.  Grandpa used to insist that everyone behave like adults in the presence of God—

“Frances?  Can I talk to you?”

“Yeah,” I answered him, shifting my focus away from Grandpa’s headstone.

“Sorry.  It’s just that I wanted to thank you for defending me.  Your grandmother shouldn’t have said that.”

“Grandma apologized before Mass started.  She was incredibly embarrassed about it.”

Perfect.  During the service, I sat next to my Great-Uncle.  We held hands during the Our Father Payer and even hugged each other when the priest asked us to offer a sign of peace.  After that hug, I began concocting a spur-of-the-moment plan to talk to him privately about what happened earlier.  Yes, it was going to bring up a lot of emotions, but I refused to let the incident define our family— especially define me.

“To be honest, the best way you can thank me is by apologizing to Grandpa.”

Robert’s eyes lock with mine; his gaze doesn’t falter.  “You’re right.  I should.”

Wait… what?

“I know this sounds odd, but old age has a habit of making people in our family reflect.  Yes, I wasn’t the best big brother, but with all his flaws, your great-grandfather taught us that family is important.  Without its guiding foundation, people essentially become worthless.”

What in the…?

“He was right.  If I had been a better brother, I would’ve actually listened to that lesson and applied it to my life.”

Robert shakes his head.  I will admit this: whenever he’s determined, he’ll go through with it.  “I’d originally planned to come to Pennsylvania when I heard he’d fallen ill.  But being wheelchair-bound makes it hard for me to travel anywhere outside Chicago…”

To my surprise, Robert hands me a wavy piece of paper.  The ink’s smudged, and I’m wondering how it got wet.  It didn’t rain here last week… even so, I can’t account for the weather in Chicago…   “I wanted… to give him… this letter.  Would you read it to him?  Please?”

“Uh… sure?”

Dear Joey,

I’m not asking you to forgive me, but I’m sorry I failed you as your older brother.  I know Susan and Joey Jr. hate me, but you have something I never could: a loving family.

After my bitter divorce, I lost custody of my sons.  I wanted to stay in contact with them, but my ex-wife made it impossible.  That forced me to realize how far I’ve strayed from what’s important.

You lived a full, happy life because of Papa’s words.  I’m proud of you.

Fondly,

Robert

He sounds genuine.  I should give him the benefit of the doubt.

Whether or not I accept Robert’s apology, for Grandpa’s sake… depends on his next move.  He can say he’s sorry, but does he really mean it?  After all, he played the role of Great-Grandpa’s favorite son for years.  I—like Grandpa—just refuse to accept anyone’s half-baked, half-hearted apology.

* * * * THE END * * * *
Copyright Isabel Night 2025