Invisible String

Chapter 22 - This is Why We Can't Have Nice Things

Around eight, everyone else was awake, and soon after, we got ready to go to the church where the funeral would be held. We had to be there a little early to make sure everything was prepped the way my mom wanted it. My aunts and uncles on my mom's side came with their children. I had six cousins between my two aunts and two uncles and their spouses. My cousins were older than my siblings and me because my mom had been my grandma and grandpa's last child. Or their 'oops,' a lot like me.

At the church, we got everything set up, and the first people started showing up around ten. They'd flow in through the front doors, sign the guest book, and shake hands with all of the family, then sit down in the room with Grandpa's body. They could wander around the church, but most didn't, feeling sad and awkward. Alex sat at the back of the viewing room, where he felt the most out of the way and unnoticeable. But he wasn't. When you're a celebrity, you're never treated like a regular human being. You're still a celebrity. So even though he wanted to support me, he was really just there to be bombarded by the women and girls around my age or younger. Some men approached him, too. Either to discuss his music or how to get in the biz. Or to simply flaunt their love for him. He was polite no matter what, though.

Sandra came in close to the beginning and stood and talked with me for a few minutes while Mandy spoke to the rest of my family. It was a nice break from all the unfamiliar faces that were passing through.

After an hour and a half of standing, accepting handshakes and sympathies, we finally started the ceremony. It was sad, of course. But it was what he would have wanted. There were people of all shapes and sizes that he'd met from all over the states. Many of them weren't even from Minnesota. My grandpa had been a brilliant man and a great businessman. He traveled often in his heyday and made many friends and contacts. Many of them were there that day at his funeral, to thank him for everything he'd done and pay their respects to us, the people who loved him.

For the first part of the ceremony, we played soft music alongside a slideshow of Grandpa and Grandma with all their kids, then us grandchildren. It was sweet, and each of us grandkids had picked a song to play during it. For mine, I'd chosen Carrie Underwood's 'See You Again.' It was sad but much more up-tempo than my sibling's and cousin's choices, who all chose more melancholy melodies.

With tears already staining people's cheeks, the montage ended, and we looked up to the altar where the priest was waiting and read a few verses from the bible, then spoke about how well he'd known my grandpa and grandma.

"Edison Brink," the priest smiled. "What can I say about Edison Brink that no one here already knows?" The crowd nodded and smiled along with him. "Ed was a generous man. A kind one, too, with a great heart. He was always loving. And we will not soon forget him. For he is not the kind of man that you can ever forget. I recall back when I first became a clergyman, he was in here regularly, praying constantly. For what? For many things. He prayed not only for himself, though, but he prayed for all of those around him. He had hope, and more than anything, he had faith in his Lord, in our Lord. And love. He had so much love." The priest gestured to my family, "He loved each and every one of you so very much." All of the family near me were crying and nodding along with him, including me. "Now, Iris, are you ready to come up and say a few words?"

My mother nodded, wiping her eyes and standing up while straightening her dress. She looked beautiful, even at her saddest moment. Her brown hair was held back with a black clip; she had no make-up on, but she didn't need it, and she wore a simple knee-length, long-sleeved black dress with black tights and black flats to go with it. I forced a smile on as she climbed behind the pulpit.

"Thank you, Father, for your kind words. My dad would have appreciated them." She nodded to the priest and looked back out to the crowd, barely glancing at us. "My father would have appreciated all of you being here." She looked down and pulled out a piece of paper from her pocket. With shaking hands, she unfolded it and began to read, "In my life, I have never met a person quite like him. My father was brave, unbelievably smart and completely kind while still being cautious and sincere. He never lied, at least that I know of," my mom said, a slight smile gracing her face. The crowd let out a small laugh. "And I see him in everything. I see him in the nature outside of these doors, I see him in the sky smiling down on me, and I see him in each and every one of my siblings and all of our children. I see the beauty, the grace that he carried with him. The same kindness, the gentle nature that we inherited from him. And I'm blessed because I know that even though he's physically gone, I will have him here with me still. All of us will. Because how can you look at the world and not find him? He never left."