Queen Bee

April 2006 (3)

"How you doin'?" I quietly asked Marshall, our car pulling up to the church where Proof's funeral was being held as I began gently intertwining our fingers over his lap. 

He nodded, his low hanging eyes staring off into a distance, refusing to look at me. "Yeah... Yeah, I'm fine." 

I softly nodded back, knowing good and well he was not fine but still trying his best to just put on a brave face. "You're gonna be okay." I whispered again, tightening my hold around his hand. Not responding, the vehicle came to a halt in front of the large, wooden doors where it seemed hundreds had already gathered. Realizing they were all here for the funeral, and not just annoying paparazzi, I felt like everything should go pretty smoothly as far as our arrival went. 

Stepping out of the car, we were quickly escorted inside, thankfully not one person bothering us. As we entered the building, we were met with Paul, Biz, Von, Swifty, Denaun, Zoe, and Kuniva's extremely gloomy looking faces. With still none of them speaking to me except Zoe, I knew I had to make this bullshit between us right eventually. Especially after Proof. It just isn't worth it to me anymore, none of it is. Any one of us could die tomorrow, so what's the point in beefin' over some shit that they have no control over? That only Marshall has control over? There isn't. It's just unfortunate it took Proof dying for me to realize it. 

Making a mental note to at least attempt to try and talk to them all later, when it would be much more appropriate, we all began making our way towards our second row seats, but not without being stopped first by Trick Trick, 50, Dre, Xzibit, Lloyd Banks, Treach, Young Buck, Vinnie, and so many other people that sorta just became blurred together. I'm sure Marshall felt the same way considering how many pills he took prior to this, and if I was having trouble keeping everyone straight, he definitely was. 

Finally making it to our seats, I could tell Marshall was nervous just from how rapidly his leg was bouncing. Whether he was nervous because he had to make a speech and knew he wasn't in the right mindset, I don't know. But rather than questioning why he felt nervous at his best friends funeral, I gently reached for his hand just as I had done in the car. Quickly snatching it, he squeezed it tightly, not letting up with the pressure once as his leg continued to bounce. 

About half an hour or so later, all of the seats looked, at least to me, completely filled, and a somber violin began to play. Immediately standing up, Proof's mom, kids, grandparents, and Sharonda all started to slowly walk down the long aisle, heading directly towards the pews that were placed in front of us. As they sat down, I noticed Sharonda was seated right in front of me. Gently placing my hand on her shoulder, she looked behind her to see who the hell was touching her, I'm sure. With her wet eyes meeting mine, I offered a comforting, empathetic smile to which she quickly returned, reaching up to give my hand a small squeeze before releasing it. 

Only a few moments later, the pastor headed towards his stand that was placed behind Proof's white casket, being adorned with a giant bouquet of red roses that were in the shape of the number eight. Knowing Marshall had specifically asked for those flowers, I just hoped they were the ones he was envisioning and I hadn't fucked up his best friends funeral. 

As the pastor began his speech, tears flowed effortlessly from I swear almost everyone in the crowd, myself included. It was a hard fuckin' day, but at least we all had each other. A few moments later, the pastor introduced Marshall, and it was almost as if I could physically feel his nerves spike. Gently letting go of my hand, he began to stand from his seat and slowly made his way over to the mic.  

Staring off into the crowd, I saw as his red eyes fought back tears as hard as they could. After pausing for a few moments, he finally started. "I- I apologize if I cuss in church... This is hard for me, man..." Marshall's strained voice boomed across the sea of people as he took another moment to breath. "Proof, he loved people, and people loved him. He was just a people magnet. When you first met him, you wanted to know more about him, he was just... That typa person..." Pausing once more, he connected eyes with me for a brief moment, almost as if he was looking for comfort. Nodding gently, he took that as a signal to continue. "When I was sixteen, Proof came to my house, tossed down a pair of shoes and said 'put 'em on!'" Marshall exclaimed, earning a light chuckle from the crowd. "I laughed, and I was like, man, what the fuck? He told me, he said, I'm tired of you wearin' them dirty shoes, put 'em on!"  He exclaimed once more, earning yet again another rumble of laughter. "And that was just, y'know, that was just who Proof was. Without Proof, there would be no Eminem, no Slim Shady, and no D12. D12 was all Proof's idea, actually, so I mean it. There woulda been none of us without him, and he was just..."  He paused. "He was the man. He is the man... And- And we love you, Doody. Forever." 

After yet another short pause, Marshall began to back away from the podium, his eyes refilling with those same tears he had been trying so hard to put to bed. Exchanging spots with the pastor, he quickly made his way back down to our seats, plopping himself directly beside me once more. "That was beautiful." I whispered, his hand immediately finding mine once more and in replacement of any words, offering me a few nods instead.

As the service continued on, numerous other people spoke, who were mainly just Proofs family or the boys. The pastor also spoke a few more times, leading us in prayer as well as giving a couple hopeful and encouraging passages from the bible before it was finally over. Looking towards Marshall, he released one large, deep sigh, almost as if he had been holding his breath this entire time and was now finally able to breath. Feeling proud of him, I knew he had only one more hurdle to jump before he was home free. 

Standing up, we conversed with our group, Proof's family, and a few others before being swiftly escorted back out, and towards the car. Being taken to the mausoleum building for the burial, Marshall said no more than maybe two or three words to me the entire ride, and I just knew he couldn't wait for this day to be over. 

After about fifteen minutes, the much smaller group of us had arrived, and we were all shown to the site. The same pastor was also present, and he once again gave another short lived speech before the casket was inserted into the large hole. Watching as they slowly entered it, tears began brimming once more for everyone, and all I could do was just latch onto Marshall's bicep as he tried his best to dry his under eyes. 

Around a minute later, the large door to Proof's final resting spot was closed, and all we could do was just stand in silence for a few moments while we stared aimlessly at the gravestone. All it read was, "DeShaun Dupree Holton, AKA Proof, 1973-2006." Simple, but beautiful. And exactly what Proof would have wanted. 

After half an hour of some more light conversation, hugging, and many tears, we all began trickling out of the building, and back into our respective cars. As the day was finally coming to a close, I felt absolutely exhausted, and so did Marshall considering how many more pills he had taken. Figuring he likely just wanted to go to bed when we got home, I offered him my hand once more which he graciously took. "You did amazing today." My genuine tone filling the dead air of the car. 

WIth a nod and his voice turning thick, he only replied, "thanks."