Chronicle of a Funeral
((This is just from Chris’s point of view.
Nobody need reply. There would’ve been an obit in the paper and if anyone saw it, they know. I’m saying it happened last week, funeral last Saturday. Message with questions!))
Chris sat quietly as he stared at the coffin in front of him. At his age, he didn’t think he would have to face this. He was used to seeing death and even causing it. That was part of his job in the Navy. Though he had always figured he would be the one to die. When he retired he put those thoughts out of his mind. He was 37-years-old. He was in his perfect life. Husband he was mad for and two beautiful babies, everything was great. His life couldn’t get any better.
But if his life was so perfect, then why was he here? Why did he have to plan a funeral? Why was his husband lying cold and embalmed in that coffin?
It had been a robbery gone wrong at one of their restaurants. He had been closing for the night, letting the staff go early. He never liked anyone there when he emptied the safe once a month, except Chris. That was when he had been shot. Shot by two junkies who ran in to rob the place. That was when Chris had been told when the police showed-up at 1:07am. He remembered the time precisely. He had just put Katya back to bed and checked the clock when he heard the pounding on his door. After that started the whirlwind of his week.
He had planned a funeral, contacted his husband’s family in Russia, met with their lawyers to get everything settled. Finally it was time to just sit and mourn. Chris had been staring at the coffin for a few hours now. He was barely aware of just how many people stopped in front of him to kiss his cheek or shake his hand. Their whisperings of ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘Such a shame’ or ‘He was so young’ fell on deaf ears. He was just going through the motions. He was lucky his brother was there. Scott checking on him every so often, making sure he was doing okay. Well, as okay as he could be. But the biggest help was him watching the twins throughout this thing. Chris wasn’t able to focus much. Today made it real.
But Chris didn’t shed a tear, choke back a sob, or stifle a sniffle. There was no sadness evident on his face. It wasn’t because he wasn’t sad. He missed his husband terribly already. But inwardly he was too angry to be sad. Why was he angry? Not because the other left him alone. He knew he didn’t want to die. No. Chris was angry because his proud and stubborn husband was stupid. He had caused his own death. All over some fucking money.
Chris had watched the security tapes, even though he was advised not to. He watched the scene play out. Two people walked in, clearly erratic and fairly obvious they were on something. They held some guns up and started speaking. The cameras didn’t record sound unless you specifically set them that way. All he had was visuals. The talking went on for longer than necessary and Chris could see his husband trying to talk to them. Then came the stupid part. The cash register opened and it looked like he was reaching for the money. But Chris knew he wasn’t.
‘Don’t do it. You stupid idiot, don’t do it’ he had said to himself as the man came back up with the gun they kept hidden. He pointed it at the one person and fired. He fell back and then the other shot his husband. Multiple times in the chest. Chris watched as his husband flew backwards and sunk to the ground. The place where he would die alone. Where he’d leave them all, forever. There were no customers, the staff were gone, nobody to defend. It had literally been him. If he had just given them the money maybe he’d still be alive. But no. He had to protect the fucking money. So yes. Chris was angry.
The funeral was very low-key. He had to wait a week to give his family time to come from Boston, and the other’s family from Russia. There had been his obituary in the paper but that was really all the notice Chris had given anyone outside of family. If they came, they came. If they didn’t, oh well. He didn’t expect anything and he wasn’t going to drag it out. He couldn’t. After the four-hour visitation, they’d be heading to the church for the funeral mass and then to the cemetery where he’d be laid to rest. A repast would follow of course, as was customary, but Chris didn’t care about that. He didn’t even want to show-up for it himself but Scott told him he had to. Thank god for Scott.
Chris just continued to stare silently ahead of him as one thought kept repeating itself over and over in his mind.
‘Why did you have to be so fucking stupid?’