A Time for...

I opened a button on the top of my starched white button down. Sitting on the steps of the funeral home, I starred silently past the floods of people wafting in and out. I had no idea who they were but it didn't matter. They didn't know me, either. I pulled a long, thin, black cigarette from a pack in my purse and lit it, inhaling deeply. The sugary sweet puffs of smoke passed over my lips and seemed a welcome, minor relief in the sea of death and condolences that was washing over my reality. I cracked my neck and finished the cigarette, putting it out and waiting until it was cool enough to pocket. Non-smoking areas tend to frown on cigarette butts on the lawn. I stood there for a moment, starring at the door.

I could go back in. I guess that's what I should do. Go in and tell her 'I'm sorry' for the 700^th time of the night. Hug her, tell her everything is going to be ok. It won't. It never is, though it never was either.

I could turn around and walk to the car. What would I do? Drive. Drive all the way back to work, back to an empty house, or back to somewhere I haven't discovered yet, but will feel familiar. I could go to the ocean. But then again... nah. Too cold.

I could stand here. Not doing anything but greeting people with sad smiles and empty welcomes. I wouldn't have to go back in until they began to close out for the night...

I sigh instead of any of the alternatives. I'm so tired. I pull another cigarette out, lighting it. The habit hasn't been easy on my lungs but damned if it didn't give me a minute or two to breathe during situations like this. I smile, uneasy at a couple people leaving the funeral home. One older woman stops and stares. I stare right back. Neither of us are sure what to say, but we both know that somehow it wouldn't be enough anyway.

“Were you close to her?”

“No. I'm here for her mother.”

“Ah... Thank you.”

“It's not enough, but we all do what we can.” I say softly. My words trailing off as I stare at the ground. I can't hold her gaze any longer. Her eyes speak to the sadness of loss too easily. I took a deep breath and a drag of the cigarette, hoping the ensuing silence would send her on her way. I look back up and she's smiling softly,. Her own eyes cast downward. She's fragile. That much you can tell. Brown hair with silver streaks, beginning to creep through. The black she's clad in seems to engulf her, much like the rest of us.

“You're young. I hope you never have to do this.” She says, her voice is soft but knowing. I nod, taking another drag from the cigarette. I walk forward, unannounced and hug her, arms wrapping around her shoulders. I don't know her, but she needs a hug. That much you can tell. Her shoulders shake breifly and she hugs me back, albeit a bit weakly. I smile and take a deep breath as I step back, hoping it id something. She smiles, albeit a bit weakly. Her husband takes her hand, smiles politely to me and she crumbles into a puddle of tears. I frown. This would be the pattern if I remain out here...

Time to go back inside...