We're Not Related Anymore...

The Funeral

Maddie: Present Day

This day has snuck up on me so fast that I can't believe I'm here, sitting in the front pew of the church while some guy waxes poetic about my father. His picture stares down at me from the stage. It's an unsmiling, serious photo. It was the professional one he had my mom take of him when they were still together. He used it for everything. It was the profile picture on his social media sites, the picture he used in the books he published, and it's the picture I've chosen for his funeral.

I sit next to Lilian. For once, she seems totally at ease. Gone is the constant need to have a tissue on her in case she needs to wipe her eyes and nose. She is the picture of serenity today. Her makeup is done, she's in an ironed black dress and even put on heels. I, on the other hand, am finally starting to feel the force of my father's passing. It didn't feel real until now. I felt like I was playing pretend. Choosing the flowers, picking out a menu, bossing people around... all of that feels like a lifetime ago.

"We are joined here today to say goodbye to a good friend, a pillar in this community..." The words become white noise as I stare at my father's picture. I never got to say goodbye.

Over the last few days, there's been a weird peace that has settled over Lilian's home. No one has dared mention the giant white elephant in the room. But now that I'm finally quiet, now that I'm not filling up every second of every day with some task, everything I've been pushing back is finally seeping in.

Linda's words from yesterday come back to haunt me. It's about time you did something for your father. It's too bad he's too stone-cold dead to see it.

I feel my tears before I realize I'm crying. Hot, heavy drops of water fall from my eyes and land on my clenched hands in my lap. My body is shaking and I bite my lip to keep myself from making any noise. Iron coats my mouth and I know I've bitten too hard.

I didn't see my father for three years. Three. Whole. Years. And now he's dead. I'll never get a chance to make amends. My mom had said as much when I called her. She sits in the pew behind me but I still hear her words from a few days ago.

You and your Dad had problems that were never resolved. But you can't beat yourself up about it.

How can I not beat myself up about it? He's dead and his last memories of me will always be ones of anger. Now I'll never get to see him again, tell him I'm sorry, and that I love him.

The tears are now coming out so fast that I can't wipe them away quickly enough. My breathing becomes frantic. It's too loud and too fast and I know people are looking at me.

I feel a touch on my back. Someone's trying to comfort me but I can't take it. I inch forward in the pew, just enough that the hand on my back falls away. I can't bear to be touched right now.

"Keegan Culkin was a beloved husband, father, and friend. He is survived by his wife, Lilian, his children, Joshua and Madeline, and his stepchildren, Jacob, Mary, and Shelley. Let us bow our heads in prayer for our lost friend."

My head's already so far bowed I'm surprised it hasn't fallen off my neck. I know my body's shaking but there's nothing I can do to stop it. I don't want to leave right now. If I leave this room and go to cry somewhere in private, I don't know if I'll ever come back.

The pastor continues with his prayers. We stand up and everyone around me starts singing the hymns. I can't get my lips to so much as mouth the words.

The service continues around me in a blur. I can barely make out the shape of my feet with all the tears in my eyes. Someone hands me a tissue and it's wet within seconds while I try to soak up all the tears in my eyes.