I hope you enjoy reading it.
I stood by the window, peering under the clean white net curtains. There were two black cars parked in the road. My uncle stood next to one of these cars; my two cousins clinging onto him crying. My parents and brother stood by their car. I noticed my mum looking up to the window where I was stood. I quickly dropped the net down.
I walked to the bathroom and splashed my face with cold water. I walked back to the bedroom and sat on the bed, squeezing my eyes tightly closed. ‘I will not cry, I will not cry,’ I chanted to myself.
Mum appeared at the door, dressed top to toe in black, her hair tied up in a bun, like I’d never seen before. I noticed how large her shoulder pads were on her jacket.
She sat on the bed next to me. ‘Are you sure you’re not coming? Last chance.’
I shook my head. ‘I just can’t...It’s too...It isn’t true. If I don’t go it’s not true,’ I replied.
Mum put her hand around my shoulder. ‘It is true. If you don’t come now, you can’t come later. The cars are leaving in a few minutes. There’s still time to dress and come with us. How about you sit in the back of the car with me, Dad and your brother. He’s come.’
‘He’s too young to understand,’ I replied.
She said nothing to that. The silence was so large you could have driven one of the black cars through it.
I felt tears on my cheeks. Mum wiped them off. ‘I’ll see you later for the food, back here. Put on a nice shirt, something colourful, it’s what she wanted.’ She kissed my head and left.
I squeezed my eyes and slowly stood, walking to the window. The hearse arrived with white flowers spelling Auntie and Mum next to the coffin.
All the people walked to their cars. Mum, Dad and my brother got into the back of one of the black cars, my uncle and two cousins into the back of the other one with Granddad – Auntie’s dad. The hearse slowly left the close in Brentwood where Auntie first showed me what is now one of my favourite films, Dirty Dancing, as we sat on her new flowery and cream three piece suite.
I lay back on the bed and remembered other happy times, with Auntie: helping me de-clutter my bedroom; eating a home-made Indian meal; her laughing with Mum and reminding me of Birds of a Feather. Times that weren’t here and now in her spare bedroom as she was driven off in a wooden box.
If anyone has any thoughts or comments, I’d love to hear them.