Roger Pollock

4

A Morning of Reflection

I sat in the van, looking out the window, watching the world pass me by. I was sitting there droning, looking back at memories. I was trying to think about anything, anything but my final destination.
It was making me irritated, knowing that it will come, that the van will come to a stop.
It was a funeral, a funeral for a friend of the families'. I didn't even know him that well, I thought to myself. Pull your self together. Oh, but how? I didn't share that many moments with when I did.I don't care!
Oh, but you do. And you know it.
What do you know? I told my mind, but my heart knew other wise. I knew it was right. There will always be that empty place on the chair at my grandmother's house.
He would sit there. Talking, little to me, more to my father. He didn't care, so why should I? He wasn't a large part of my life.
But he was.
The van stopped. I slowly got out of the van and into the chilly outside, in front of the funeral home. I slowly, and somewhat reluctantly, entered the building.
Everyone was crying, sobbing, even wailing, all with tear-stained faces. And then I saw my grandmother. Surprisingly, she was untouched by my all the sadness surrounding her. She hugged me smiling. Smiling.
Instantly, all the emotions of my vary being, sprang out and over came my vain attempts to keep them back, and I broke down, then and there.
Sobbing and trembling, I held my grandmother's small, fragile body harder. My grandmother quietly whispered into my ear. Whispered four little words that made all the difference."It will be alright."
I silently, began to cry.