The sky was eclipsed in darkness the landscape of my home town was devoid of colour of life. I peered outside my room and examined the bleak landscape i examined a dreary drab wet windy day. The sky was enclosed in a dark forbidding clouds that threatened a torrential downpour at any moment. The scenery of my suburban middle England town had changed drastically from a picturesque idyllic vision with flowers in full bloom. With children playing exuberantly in the nearby park the trees were once filled with greenery and the calming bird song emanated from the lush vision of a heavenly english town.
Now in this melancholic day in the twilight of winter all that colour all that vibrancy had evaporated. The deciduous trees were left bare they appeared so fragile in the chill of winter. There were no children playing in the streets no glorious meditative sound of birdsong. The entire panorama was that of a black and white greyed vision. The bleak desolate horizon was a fitting scene for this day the day of my mothers funeral.
It was 9 o’clock in the morning i was a precocious teenager sitting in my fortress of solitude waiting for the torturous funeral ceremony to commence. My room was adorned in imagery of my favourite bands my favourite literary idols. There was a tiny single bed which i cried profusely night after night that followed my mothers suicide. I glimpsed a cavalcade of funeral mourners friends relatives who were arriving at my family home before the funeral procession started. Staying locked inside my den of isolation not wanting to converse with my family members. I had been refrained from speaking to my father today I simply put on my mourning dress adorned my body in the traditional dark gothic attire that suited the occasion and my dolorous state of mind. I meticulously painting my nails black to match my melancholic funeral garb.
I sat sobbing and peering outside my window seeing these relatives arrive promptly to my home. My staff upper lip withdraw father asked me if I wanted some breakfast or if I wanted to vacate my room and interact with these distant relatives. I calmly declined his kind request opting to listen to my joy divisions bleak music which boomed into my ears at a thunderous almost deafening volume. I listened with my Bluetooth earphones whilst pressing my dejected face against the rain drenched window.
Then the dreaded moment had arrived the funeral procession was ready to depart to the Catholic Church where the traditional scared funeral ceremony would be held. My father pounded on my door vehemently demanded i leave the sanctuary of my fortress of solitude to join the funeral party. I left my metaphorical womb to languidly walk down the stairs and say hello to the abundance of relatives and close friends who were situated in our home. I was quiet but polite retaining a stoic austere exterior that masked this well of sadness. It was a strange day when everybody apart from me and my heartbroken father were acting in a positive buyout mood with effusive effervescent conversations. The comportment of my distant relatives seemed to me so incongruous with this forlorn day where my mothers decaying body would be buried. The positive demeanour of the funeral attendees left me seething and infuriated. Of course like a good natured emotional repressed English teenage girl i hid my feelings my exacerbation.
I saw my aunts June my mothers sister my uncle Stephen and uncle Brian from my fathers side. There were distant cousin and my mums best friend Susan who appeared shell shocked. Susan never uttered a singular word she just sat in the corner of the living room timorously sipping a glass of sherry. Most of the attendees had decided to drink some alcoholic spirits in the hope of numbing the pain of the funeral. I a 13 year old vulnerable teenager was forbidden from partaking in the pre funeral alcoholic libation. I overheard loquacious interactions with my aunty June saying to a distant cousin of my father “ how are you today its a fine day for a funeral” in her characteristic buoyant manner.
Whilst i was furious with incandescent rage on the inside how could they be so sanguine why aren’t they like me gloomy and severely depressed. I glanced at my mums best friend Susan who at least was acting appropriately and distant like myself. She at least appeared sad depressed at losing a beautiful friend in such a a tragic manner. My father was trying to remain normal never exposing the tumult of despair swirling around in his grief stricken mind. I languidly strolled over to Susan and embraced her giving her a passionate impromptu hug as a few droplets of tears strolled down by ashen face. Before I released myself from Susans maternal warm bosom I wiped the tears from my face.
Then the exorbitantly expensive funeral had arrived with the hearse carrying my mothers corpse. The disquietude the raw emotional were bubbling up inside my teenage body. I didn’t know how to react how to behave in this horrendous setting. My father gathered all the guests and proclaimed it was time to depart for the church. I tentatively sauntered outside and saw a appalling site of the hearse which carried my mother the victim of untreated depression. The site of the black shift hearse which held her casket I felt by stoic disposition break feeling my bottom lip quiver. I bit my left lip and prevented a outpouring of grief not wanting to appear vulnerable. Me and my father were the first attendees to get inside the funeral vehicle. We sat alone together the only passengers apart from the driver in the main funeral motor vehicle. We were the only members of the immediate family hence we sat alone situated directly behind my mums hearse. We sat in awkward deafening silence holding the pain feeling a telepathic despair. We waited patiently for the remainder of the mourners to get inside their respective vehicles before we would begin the short torturous traversal to the majestic Catholic Church.
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