Funeral Songs

Remember that time,

We were in your car together,

And we planned our funerals,

Deciding upon mix CD's

And strange young children,

Everything to mess with the heads of those

We loved.

And we laughed and laughed

And I laughed till I was near hysterical.

I wonder if you ever realized I was trying not to cry.

You complain about your feet

All the time

And I counter with my back and my neck,

Each one of us trying to best the other with our pain.

My fingers, I say.

My voice, you say.

But when it's my Grandpa who had the cancer

And my debate partner who took the pills

And my Grandma who didn't recognize me

When she died,

You stopped competing and simply

Asked if I was alright,

So often that I would get annoyed,

Because, honestly,

It hurts too much to let down the defenses.

So I would say I was fine,

Laughing and choosing more funeral songs,

Then when the cancer finally killed him off,

You never saw me cry.

You only heard me make

Sarcastic comments about

The minister.

I would catch you staring at me at random times

Just watching,

Affirming,

And I'd get annoyed

Because I'd couldn't let myself care too much

Even in front of you.

Even though you were there

When my Grandma died.

Me, answering the phone

With the screech of

Friends singing along to "Wind Beneath My Wings"

In the background.

Me, digging a hand into my sister's

Desktop Zen Garden

And sobbing.

You, hearing beyond the singing first

And coming in to find out what was wrong.

I hated crying in front of you all.

I still hate crying in front of anybody.

You say that I'm stronger than you,

And maybe you're right.

I say that half of everything that comes out of my mouth

Is facetious,

And maybe I'm right.

You say I'm stronger,

Except when it comes to boys

And you recognize this,

Cause I always end up caring too much when

Nothing can come of it

And I try not to care when something could,

Hiding behind blanket terms of Pride and Dignity,

While you roll your eyes and say

That you'll never really understand me.

Maybe that,

Or maybe you'll never really understand

Which half is facetious.

Maybe I never will either.