Funeral

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            The smile dissipated, as the boy walked into his house, traumatized.  He foundered to the floor, desperate, ashamed  and empty. The world became unconscious on this day, the first experience of despondence, and death. He stare at the corpse on the ground, no soul was left, just the fallacy of post-existence. His mother was behind him, also in tears, but she retained her strength, she had to for the child.

 

            Her beauty, was no longer evident, because she didn't want anyone to embrace it. Not anymore. She subsequently stopped nourishing her beauty, then it died to all the world. At the funeral she was overtly as dead as the one being buried, she wanted to go down with him, but her son was now the strong one he held his mothers hand and stared. "I'll do the crying for both of us," He said, stuttering.

 

            Speeches were made about him, "Genuine" and "Handsome" were used so much it was incredibly pretentious. Even the mother wanted to end this feeble attempt at empathy for her. The deceased always said that funerals are just reconciliations for narcissists that only love you in death. So it makes them happier, inside. Because The ones who do love you had your funeral  before this superficial event . The Mother took this pessimism to heart, and dreaded this finicky get together.

 

            After a couple hours of shear, pandering, boredom, the people left the grave for the owner of it's family. The son, stared, he just couldn't stop. It was not that he was looking into his memories, it was that he was obsessed with his future. He was enthralled with the unknown, because the present was too tumultuous to perceive.  The child and his mother stayed at the grave for a minute, then the son dropped a rose, and the mother watered it with her eyes.

 

            He was 6 years old, he hadn't lost everything, but he had lost most of what mattered. An idol, a leader, a god to most 6 year old boys, or at least a super hero. He was strong, too strong, after the funeral he didn't feel sadness. He felt a profound, safeness after the funeral, and it did not phase him as much as one would expect. His mother worried about her son's "denial," but she was too encompassed by her own feelings of woe, and self pity, to do anything about it. 

 

            Her constant sadness over his husband, of course, ceased after many years. Despite this, she was still distant from her prior self, she was still incased in the breath of the instant, that death surrounded, and subsequently trapped her. The child became more and more distant, as he became more and more aware.  When he finally left, the raw image of it was analogous to when the father died, except this time, the mother had to suffer alone.  His departure was captioned with "Just forget it mom, just forget everything you two did, and everything you said. Blindness keeps our vision stable."  They hugged, he left, she cried, he smirked.

 

           

 

            The separation was, shockingly, an amazing thing for her. The boy called her every time he could, to say how much she mattered. With this, her  sorrow receded back, back into her prior self. She hatched, and became beautiful again, despite her age. Still, she never loved again, as she promised. But she was loved, she became as magnanimous as her husband was  many years prior. Yes, a part of this woman stayed in the coffin with her husband that day, but she took her husband with her, and it just took this long for it to flower.

 

            The town she lived in adored her. After years and years they continued to, she was the perfect old woman, full of love and hope. The love she gave was assisted from her dead husband. She died, old, happy and loved, and her ever so pretentious funeral, was beautiful., like her. After the funeral ended, the boys now young son put a rose on his grandmothers grave. Then both he, and his father watered it with one tear each. They left, smiling and satisfied.