23.02.18

Look at me, writing twice within the same week. I can’t help it. I don’t know who to say all of this to. I still cannot believe that Antonio is gone and we buried him today. I have been trying to be as strong as I can these past few days. I don’t like to admit it but I have been getting help too. Erin and June have both been around a lot despite me explicitly telling them to leave me alone. They didn’t listen. June is as annoyingly overbearing as she has always been and Erin simply wordlessly ignores me. I just need some time alone, to process all of this. I keep expecting someone to start laughing and reveal that this is a joke. That actually, down there, on the grounds, one can still hear Antonio’s rumbling laughter coming from the cottage. And yet, this is as real as can be. It feels like someone has poured a pail of ice-cold water onto me and now suddenly I’m awake and the world is about to end.

Enough with the rambling. I’ve been marinating in this grief and running in circles all day. This isn’t going to help anyways. On to the funeral, I guess. The funeral procession started at Antonio’s cottage. His little girl was devastated. I didn’t know how to comfort her. It broke my heart to see her weep the way she did. We hadn’t had much time to plan the funeral but the planning went quickly anyways—we’ve all had too many funerals in the past weeks so I guess there is a pattern that we have all become used to following. Antonio’s wife had me sit in the same limousine as them, which touched my heart. I haven’t spent enough time with Antonio’s family or just any family, really, so this was new to me. A line of cars followed us to the temple. It was moving to see the amount of people who really loved Antonio and the amount of lives Antonio had touched.

Our town doesn’t really have any other place of worship than the temple and Antonio had always had a strange relationship with the it. He never talked about it but I would always notice a shadow pass over his face whenever it was mentioned. Yet whenever he felt troubled he would go there to pray without fail.

The entire town came to the funeral service. It was a poignant affair and there was not a single dry eye in the room. The rain has been incessant and the roof of the old temple had also started leaking this morning. Little droplets of water fell in loud taps on Antonio’s casket throughout the service. It was as if the universe itself was crying at this loss.

We headed outside for the burial. Antonio’s wife and daughter stood under one umbrella beside the grave as the priest gave a final service. I stood beside them in another. Drew and Jose stood opposite to us, Drew’s hand gently tugging at the hem of the sleeve of Jose’s coat. Jose’s face was twisted in pain as tears silently fell down his cheeks. I had never seen him like this and I realised that I hated it now that I was witnessing this. Sariah, Erin, Akeno and Yusuf stood beside them.

I felt a presence beside me so I looked and it was June. She was wearing black trousers and a black coat that was buttoned all the way. She stayed silent for a while as the tears on her cheeks glistened. “He raised me, you know,” she whispered finally, her voice cracking at the end, “And he was always kind.” For once, I understood June. Our parents had always focused on June more but June and I, we had always been alone. It was Antonio who taught us to love. June reached out hesitantly to hold my hand and I let her. This was hard enough to deal with in solitude.

After the casket was lowered, people slowly started to come over to us to give their condolences and leave. I shook hands and I gave hugs but it was all a blur to me. Drew and Jose were few of the last ones to leave. “He was a great man—and the best boxer,” Drew said, giving a teary chuckle before patting me on my back. I don’t know what she was referring to with the boxing but many of the things that Drew says are sometimes…random, so I didn’t say anything to that. Jose broke into shaking sobs in my arms and I didn’t know how to handle him. I guess no one can really understand the pain of losing a best friend, a solid partner on this plane of existence. Yusuf came next and all he could say was that he didn’t believe Antonio was really gone. Sariah was the last one to come. I didn’t know what to expect when it came to her. She stood in front of me looking exactly the way she always does, with her short tousled blonde hair sticking out in all directions and her mouth twisted in a steely frown. Yet for the first time, her eyes were soft. She shook my hand and gave me a firm nod, and then she was gone, walking away alone in the distance, looking over her shoulders frequently as if someone was following her. Slowly everyone went away and then I was there alone. No one had told me what came next, when you were alone and all you had was your pain and an ocean of ever-growing loneliness inside of you.

We had a little get-together at Mocair’s that evening, to celebrate Antonio. He would have wanted us to celebrate him with fun and laughter and alcohol. So that is exactly what we did. There was music there and everyone was all dressed up. Teary-eyed stories of Antonio’s kindness, his silliness, his bravery were shared and toasts were made. For once, I didn’t mind the crowd or the hubbub. I was in the corner of the room, slightly tipsy and hidden comfortably by the shadows of the heavy curtains behind me. Two women walked over, unaware of my presence there. I couldn’t help but overhear. “Look at her, Sariah. So gloomy and annoyingly mellow all the time—even at Antonio’s celebration. Some people just do not know how to behave according to their surroundings. Bloody spoiling the atmosphere with that rigid face of hers,” the first one said bitterly, pointing at Sariah, who was at the counter with a drink in hand. My ears perked up and I tuned into the conversation.

“I swear,” the second one continued, “She carries that sad little cloud of dread everywhere with her but everyone is just too scared to call her out on it. Like, grow up, it's been like, two decades since everything happened, move on, you’re ruining everybody’s mood.”

“And it wasn’t as if Callahan was any good, he was the one who did all the killings, so good riddance, I say.”

“Exactly. That harbinger of misfortune, Klaudia and Sariah with her ever-suffering long face in such proximity is really going to manifest doom upon us.”

The other woman hummed in agreement. I had enough at this point. I was used to this but I was in no mood to listen to any more of it so I got up and left. I could see the two women and their shocked faces in my peripheral vision as they watched me walk away but I did not care. All I wanted to do was come home, so that is exactly what I did.

by Klaudia Kabot on February 23, 2018