It was the first funeral Zeke had ever been to.
Of course, death was common amongst the Rosarios, but his mother never pressured him to go. He had never been to a funeral on his mother’s side either; most of them lived in Columbia, and he didn’t know them all too well.
His standard black suit and tie defended him effectively against the nippy weather, but the cold did a good job of gnawing away at his fingertips. He closed and opened his hands over and over as he sat in the front row.
The layer of russet red leaves that coated the grounds of Ritter Memorial Cemetery blended well with the gray sky, teasing a rain that would never come, similar to the ceremony attendees. His experience in funerals was lacking, but surely, he knew there had to be some sort of sobbing.
All he could hear was Pastor Isaiah delivering a generic eulogy that sounded like something you could copy off a sample online. Isaac’s father was a virtuous and dignified-looking man. Isaac looked just like him, the only difference being that Isaiah had short, graying black hair and was a little taller. Zeke turned his head back, and all he saw were bone-dry faces. Most people had stolid expressions, not the kind that hints at unhappiness stemming from a tragedy but the hopelessly bored kind you’d have when you tried to pay attention to the presentation of a classmate you don’t care about who is just completely botching the topic.
The entire number of chairs present could be counted on two sets of hands; even so, some were left empty. That’s probably why no one had gripes with the eulogy. Nothing about the funeral catered to his grandmother’s liking. He couldn’t even spot one bouquet of daisies anywhere in the cemetery. They were her favorite, and they were traditional funeral flowers, anyway, so why weren’t they there?
Because no one knew her, no one cared, maybe her husband, but he had died long before Zeke was born. Sure, there was a mention of her work as a nurse in Cuba and her involvement in International Humanitarian Organizations. Still, those were things that anybody could easily look up. No mention of her personality, sense of humor, or compassion.
A relative should be in charge of talking about personal details like that, but no one offered to say anything, not even Zeke himself. It seemed moronic in a way to ramble about the amazingness of Esther Rosario to a crowd that couldn’t care less.
When Pastor Isaiah came to a full stop at the end of the front row to Zeke’s left, an eager Isaac raised his hand to get a word in. He was seated next to AJ—she was attired in a long-sleeved black dress to hide the developed biceps and triceps that lined her arms. She looked nice.
Zeke stared at her from his seat. He could tell that she was screaming internally to get out of the dress and trying her best to be respectable for him. She didn’t look bored. She was attentive, considering every word like an essential documentary. Suddenly, she looked in his direction and gave him a sad smile. Zeke smiled back and nodded.
After receiving the blessing, Isaac rushed to the carved wooden casket where a photo of a 20-year-old smiling Esther sat in a blossom of roses—she wasn’t a fan of roses.
Pastor Isaiah stepped aside and watched his son as he faced the bored crowd and flashed a smile.
Zeke tuned out. Isaac didn’t even know his grandmother. He was going to spout a vague, generic speech about the virtues of his grandmother; no need to listen to that.
He resorted to studying the attendees sitting in the first row with him. To his left was Ugo, who didn’t seem bored, just calm. He had experience with funerals; maybe he was used to the dread. His dad sat next to him, and his face was sullen. Bad memories of his previous wife’s funeral were definitely bubbling up.
Then Zeke looked over to his mom, seated next to him on his right. He couldn’t believe what he saw.
She was smirking.
Of course, she was. Zeke realized he was being a moron for getting surprised at the sight. His mother never cared for Grandma Esther, calling her Aba as if she meant something to her. Getting her sent to the psychiatric hospital wasn’t enough to keep her from filling nonsense or ‘cagada’ into the mind of her precious son, she would say. No, he still visited her regularly, and now that she was gone for good, there was no way for him to come into contact with her, so she was smirking. If there wasn’t a recognized pastor before them, she’d be jumping and dancing. Little did she know his grandmother was right about everything. What she taught him and what he inherited from her helped him save an angel’s life! That’s way more useful than what any detestable Rosario has ever done!
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
It was time for the burial.
Zeke, Ugo, Gerardo, his Uncle Pablo, and two other cousins fresh from prison carried the casket over to the grave and placed it on the lowering device.
The group huddled around the casket as it sank. Pastor Isaiah sang a prayer that Isaac hummed to. During this, Zeke eyed his mother from the other side of the grave. Her eyes were unfocused and welling up; her body was shaking, and her face puffed up, slowly turning red. It was ridiculous; she was holding in a laugh. She covered her mouth and hunched over. As more eyes flew to her, she bolted out of the scene before her laughter burst out.
Zeke averted his eyes to the casket as it hit dirt. A couple of dirt-shoveling, insincere kisses to the grave and more words from the pastor. After all was said and done, everybody went their separate ways. AJ left with Isaac, and Gerardo sent Zeke to find his mother while he and Ugo darted back to the car.
Zeke wandered the vibrant vista, feeling the breeze and loamy aroma while looking up at the tough, towering trees with invigorating, fiery red leaves dangling off the branches. It was like walking in a painting.
That came with its own jump scare.
Zeke yipped and jumped back as one of the hallmark angel statues of the cemetery appeared. The horrific figure stood on a pedestal and was larger than the ones at the entrance, with broad wings arching over it. It had the face of a grown man, corroding with black mold smeared across it. It had a broad smile, showing its broken teeth with pride. Three rings formed its eyes; they fixed on Zeke, eyes that exhibited imminent death, like an omen and also life, as if it had sentience and a will to live. The thought of angels became much scarier.
He heard chuckling from afar and followed the sound. He found Eldora and retreated under the largest tree in the cemetery. A massive flame-colored bush sheltered her. Zeke legged across the crunching foliage to her.
Just a few feet away, Eldora turned to him. She was covering her mouth and shaking like a hyena.
Zeke winced at the sight and slowed down. “Mom?” He said.
Eldora lowered her hand and put on a straight face but was still shaking all over. Her smirk returned immediately. “Ezequias.” She took a big gulp and clenched her eyes shut. She stood idle until the shaking went away, and the smirk dissipated. She opened her eyes and tried again. “Ezequias.” In a dignified tone this time.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, I am. I’m sorry,” Eldora said sincerely. “I don’t know what came over me.”
The brain had a nasty habit of reminding you of the funniest joke you’ve ever heard in a dire moment, but this was too much. What was so funny? Zeke decided it wasn’t worth arguing about. “It’s okay,” he said.
Eldora leaned back into the brown tree trunk and clenched onto the center of her chest, keeping her breath steady. “Can you just… give me a moment? Please.”
Zeke approached her closer, entering under the leafy canopy.
“Ezequias…” she started with a shaky voice. Desperately pushing back the laughter. She cleared her throat and continued without laughing. “Your father’s birthday is coming up.”
Zeke raised a brow. Yes, Adelmo’s birthday was a week away and way too close to his own birthday day. The last thing he wanted was more connection to the good-for-nothing.
“So?” Zeke said.
“Do you not want to visit him?”
“Of course not.”
“Ezequias…” she stopped to clear her throat. “It’s been four years since you’ve visited him.”
“And I plan to increase that number.”
“It’s his birthday, and he didn’t even get a chance to come to his mother’s funeral—”
“You say that like he cared about her.”
“She’s his mother, Ezequias.”
“I was the only one who cared about her! Nobody did! Not you, not Dad, not Mora, not Uncle Pablo, not anybody! It was only me!” Zeke balled his fists and trembled. “Why do you even remember when his birthday is, anyway? After everything he put you through, he should be out of your life forever! Everything about him should be cleared from your mind forever! He is a worthless asshole! It baffles me that I have to explain this to you!”
Eldora chuckled. Zeke glared at her for it.
“He’s still your father.”
“He’s not my father. I have a father, and his name is Gerardo Morata—your husband!! An actual dignified contributor to society!”
“I’m not going to force you to do anything.” Eldora held back another laugh. “I was simply asking.”
“Well, there’s my answer. I’m not going to visit him.”
Silence took over. A couple of leaves fell on Zeke’s head, and Eldora stifled her giggle.
Zeke asked, “Does that mean you’ll go?”
No answer came from Eldora.
“I never asked, really, but how often do you visit him?”
Eldora didn’t answer once again. She started walking. “Gerardo and Ugo are waiting for us in the car, right? Let’s not do this here. Not now. Near your grandmother’s grave.”
Like she ever cared.