I didn’t really belong there at all

On the day I sat in the fifth or sixth row from the front. I didn’t belong with the family. My own family sat to my left, unspeaking, glaring even. The small child whimpered in the seat behind me and I bit back the urge to scream it into silence.

The Priest began to speak. For five minutes words like “so young”, “before their time” and “forgiveness” echoed in my ears. I felt elevated, as if my body was attached to strings in the roof high above. I was icy cold and my hands, scratched raw were numb through.

Then began the sermon. The Preaching. “For those who don’t walk with Christ, you will not understand this loss until you do.” With that I threw up on the parquet floor and left the bitter coldness of the chapel.