People put too much emphasize on funerals. Sure, a loved one died and all, but that's just it. They're dead. It's not like they're really coherent of everything going on around them. They can't hear your words or sorrow. They aren't aware of what sort of casket they lay in. And they sure as hell can't feel the flames cloak them if their family decides to cremate them.
But my feelings towards funerals didn't stop me from attending one. I had no choice in the matter though. It wasn't my decision to kill off my niece's birth mother. So now I get dragged off to a room full of mourners and have to find the sympatric character in me to feel for these people.
The funeral home we pulled into was a small one. Lots of little black cars littered the parking lots while inside, the owners proved to be as small in size as their vehicles. Most of the men were short and were standing outside, smoking cigars. The smell was sickening but I held in my thoughts. Not something easy for me to do, but I knew most of Polly's family member's were in the mob. Or at least they had been.
When we - and by we I mean Polly, my brother in law Glenn, and me - went into the funeral home, Polly squeezed my hand tight. I glanced over at her to see tears already brimming her eyes. It may sound insensitive, but I don't understand why she's getting so emotional over this. It's not like she spent much time with the woman.
The three of us took our seat in the family section, right in the front row. I'm not really sure why I was there since I'm not technically family, but I didn't question authority. Hell, Glenn wasn't family either. The only one that held Brenda Renaldi's blood in our family was Polly.
Why don't we get confusion out the way, shall we? Polly McMahon, my niece who's the same age as me, was born when Glenn was only about seventeen years old. The mother was Brenda Renaldi, but my brother in law got custody of Polly. Several years later he met my sister Ross under some bad circumstances, which I may get to later. Now Glenn and Ross are married and the only reason Ross didn't attend this funeral was because she had to work. Plus, she hated the Renaldi family.
But it's not like she didn't have good reason. Adam Renaldi, Brenda's father, took up little Polly when she was about five wanting a ransom that he knew Glenn couldn't afford. So Glenn took up a false name and then met my sister. When Renaldi realized he could get money out of my sister, he decided to take her up for some extra cash. Let's just say things worked out in the end with only one dead body and just a bullet to my Ross's side. But ever since then, my mother's wanted nothing to do with that family other than Polly.
So now I'm here at a Renaldi funeral only because of the fact that Polly is my best friend as well as my niece.
"My God, Em," Polly sobbed. "She's really gone. Can you believe it?"
"You'll be fine," I whispered, patting her hand. It's not like you two knew each other. I had to bite my tongue from speaking those words out. To give me something productive to do, I handed her a little packet of tissues.
The priest began talking about Brenda Renaldi and what a wonderful woman she was. I felt my mind floating off somewhere. Anywhere was better than where I sat now. As long as I had that sad sort of look on my face other than one of complete and total boredom, I was fine.
Lyrics began to race through my mind. They were scattered, along with the tune, but, soon enough, the words formed together along with a perfect melody. Hmm, maybe this could be something. Nah, I decided. I wouldn't remember any of the words unless I wrote them down now and if I did that, Polly would get pissed.
Thankfully, the priest quit speaking soon and everyone in the church got to their feet. Polly, with tears streaming down her face, stood in the line that would take her to view her dead mother. Glenn and I told her we would wait for her outside. Once out of that stuffy place, I took a seat on the hood of my brother in law's car.
"Geez," I said, blowing on my hands to warm them. It was one hell of a day in December for these people to arrange a funeral and burial. "It's freezing out here."
"Yeah," Glenn agreed. "I can't believe Polly is so broke up about this. Brenda wasn't exactly mother of the year."
I shrugged, "You got me."
"Maybe it's because Brenda was the only person she was really related to."
"What do you mean? You're her father, Glenn. I'm sure she'd be more broken up about your death than Brenda's."
"But Brenda is her real mother. Ross is just a step-mom."
I stared at him for a moment. "You're kidding me, right? Ross had been nothing but motherly to Polly since the first moment she met her."
At that moment Polly stepped out of the funeral home. Her eyes were red, but she no longer cried. She fell into Glenn's outstretched arms and sobbed a bit more before she pulled away from him. Maybe I should try and think in Polly's perspective, I thought as I climbed into the driver's seat of Glenn's car. That should make me feel more sensitive to her feelings.
Okay, my mother that never wanted to take care of me in the first place has died. My reaction? Nothing that starts with me bawling my eyes out that's for damn sure. Come on, Em! I told myself. Let's take a different approach, I decided. My mother's died. Whoa. Okay, that's upsetting me. My mother's died and though I don't know her much, I know that she loved me enough to not to have gotten an abortion and enough to send me presents and cards during my birthday and Christmas.
I started up the car and slowly began following the several cars and limos that followed the hearse. Well, now I guess I know what she feels like. If my mother died, whether she kept me or not, I'd be upset too.
The cemetery we pulled up to was a small one. Before I stepped back out into the cold, I tightened my jacket. Polly waited for me to step out of the car. I slipped my arm under hers and we made our way to where they set the casket down. Glenn followed behind us with his hands stuck in his pockets.
The three of us stood behind all the chairs and other family members as the priest got into another speech. I studied my surroundings, blocking his words out once again. Headstones big and small were scattered on the grass. The thought of walking out there made me shiver. Walking on this grass meant walking on bodies buried either long ago or just days earlier.
By the time I came back to reality, the priest had finished speaking and some people were leaving while others walked to the plot meant for Brenda. Glenn, Polly and I moved back towards the parking lot. Tears fell down Polly's eyes once again when we got into the car. This time, Glenn took his place behind the driver's seat and Polly and I sat in the backseat.
"I really wanted to stay for her burial." She sobbed into her tissue.

"It's alright, Polly." I comforted her. "You can visit her any time you like."
She nodded but just stared out the window for the rest of the ride home, her mind elsewhere. I fell against the leather seat and gazed out my own window. You'd think Polly would act more like an adult. She was twenty- two years old for goodness sake!
Glenn dropped me off at my parent's house. Before I went inside I assured Polly she'd be fine. She only nodded and quietly thanked me. I sighed and walked inside.
"Mom? Dad? It's Em!" I called from the front door.
"Emmy?" My mother's voice called from the kitchen. In a moment she came out into the hall, wiping her hands off on a white towel. "We weren't expecting you for a couple days!"
"Polly wanted to come in earlier to attend the funeral." I answered, kissing my mother's cheek. "She's lucky we can afford to take time off."
We moved back into the kitchen. The room smelled like vanilla when I entered and took a seat at the island. I inhaled deeply before taking a sugar cookie from the bowel in the center of the island.
"How is the band going?" She asked, taking a seat across from me.
I sighed, my eyes falling on my uneaten cookie. "Great. The new album should be coming out any day now."
"Isn't that supposed to be a good thing? You sound like it's a burden or something," She said.
It was a good thing. The Green Faeries consisted of Polly, my cousin Gracie and myself. We got together four years ago, originally with Carly Evergreen, an old family friend. But Carly backed out because of the fact that she didn't think she could live with being famous. It was hard enough to have her mother still get her picture in the tabloids. Her mother, Joan Evergreen was part of the band my father was in back in his younger days.
I am the youngest daughter of Keith Ridge, the lead singer of The Royal Court. When my dad had been much younger he and a few friends started up a nameless band. Several years past until finally they had a hit and when it hit, it hit hard. They became the most played band on the country radio station. Awards littered my father's study from their accomplishments. Around the same time The Royal Court made it big, my parents got married. They soon became known as 'The next Tim and Faith'. Whatever the hell that meant.
Forty years later, my father is still as popular as ever. He doesn't sing anymore, but he created his own television show and even produced a major hit movie.
I, unlike my two sisters and my brother, decided to embrace my musical gene and started up The Green Faeries. You could call our music girl power, but the truth is, we just like to have fun. Most of our songs are just party songs, but some Polly and I have written are very serious. Gracie's written a couple songs herself that mean a lot to her. The one single we put out on our new album has to do with her being a young mother. It's gotten such good responses my dad said that it's possible we could win several awards for it. Though in the past two award shows we've been too, we've won over ten awards combined.
But if it hadn't been for Polly's mother dying, we'd be on a plane out to Europe right now. Being back home when I could be in France or in Greece sort of bummed me out.
"It's a good thing, Mom. I'm just sort of bummed I'm not in Europe right now," I answered.
"Oh, honey. Don't worry. Europe will still be there in a couple weeks when you leave. To tell you the truth, I'm glad you're here for Christmas." Mom said.
I shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so. I'm here for a lot of things. Christmas, Ross's birthday, and you and Dad's anniversary."
"You're going to stay for those, right sweetie?" She asked, hopefully. For Mom, having family over for such holidays was important to her. My sisters and my brother never failed to come and visit no matter what state they were in.
"Yes, Momma. I'm going to stay. But right now I'm going to the rec- room."
She nodded her agreement and stood up. I moved onto the rec- room/playroom. I spent most of my days here when I was younger playing with Polly and Gracie and my friends. As the years progressed, the toys gradually moved out and in moved instruments. The playroom moved into Meredith, my eldest sister's old bedroom upstairs.
When I entered the room, I studied it. The room reminded me of my dad's old barn where he practiced with his old friends. But he had this room sound proofed so Gracie and I could play as loud and long as we wanted to.
I took a seat behind my old drum set. I didn't play the drums anymore. That was Gracie's instrument. Now I was the lead singer. I traced the cymbal with my pinkie finger.
God I didn't want to stay here for Christmas.