Category : Stories

Sub Category : Drama

The first of the month and still i haven't heard any mention of her. Her passing just a few short weeks ago... they say the grieving stops and, I sure hope it does. She wasn't anything else to me but a sister by title. By that I mean we weren't close by any means. Though she was my family and, as shallow as this sounds, it gave me a good reason to miss some work. 

I met with my father at the airport. His eyes filled with sadness. The passing of my mother, just two short years ago, still lingering about him like a ghost haunting an old building. The man was my hero growing up. His fortitude unmatched. My mother was always wild. Even in her later years she would get caught calling up the younger men from the neighborhood to come and "fix" random objects around the house just so she could take a good look at them. We always just laughed it off. He loved her and she just had a free spirit. Innocent to anyone else, I would think.

After I had acquired my bags from the conveyor of nearly identical luggage, we drove to the house. The funeral wasn't until tomorrow and that was great because my head was still a little spun from jet lag. We talked the whole way. We spoke of my daughter, Stephanie, we talked of old times.. my sister never married. She was always like mom, except she just would never settle down. I guess guys like my dad are hard to come by. 

The hour and a half drive just flew by. The family house, my childhoood home, loomed over the cul-de-sac blocking the sun, the rays spanning out along its eerie silhouette. I could feel the death in the air. The house itself looked immaculate, however. Even in his broken spirits dad just carries on. He may look downtrodden but I know him. He'll be up bright and early to trim the hedges and keep busy. Always keeping busy. 

The entire family was there. Aunt this, uncle that. Even some of her friends had shown up for condolences. Lots of men. Some with flowers. Some with pictures. She had quite the reputation. 

I have no ill will towards my sister. Josephine was just different than me. She'd wanna go party and get stoned during high school and all I wanted to do was work on my passing drills and focus on getting into college. Though, the one time I beleive we had made a connection, she finally dragged me out of the house one night. Walked me to a party a few blocks down and showed me how to take shots, roll up a blunt, keg stand, the works. We really had a great time. And she even skipped going to her friend's place to help me sneak in so mom and dad wouldn't find out. Yeah, that was a fun night. 

Reminiscing in my thoughts I failed to see a tall man in the kitchen doorway. He was large. Not fat, but prominent. He was dressed in all black from his undershirt down to his socks. Black. He met me halfway down the hall and outstretched his hand, before I could speak he began introducing himself.
"Hello Nathan, I know you don't remember me.  But I'm your uncle Virgil."
I was taken back a bit. This man, whom I had only ever heard of in hushed tones around my mothers' side of the family at dinners, had been in prison since I was four. My father came in behind and nodded at Virgil. Virgil nodded back and they both walked into the kitchen. My father gesturing me to come with. We sat around the island in the center of the kitchen. Facing each other. My father began.

"So I know you've heard rumors about your uncle Virgil. I just want to dispel any of the falsehoods that may have slipped in from any of our more unsightly relatives."

Virgil chuckles. "You mean the assholes. Oh boy we have too many of those on our side, don't we kid."

"Well, family's gonna be family. But, yeah you could say we have a few unsightly members." 
They both laughed. My father, more out of kindness. Virgil more out of obscenity. 

"Unsightly. I like that. I'm gonna start saying that instead of "fat mouth liar."
Dad grabbed each of us a beer and we talked. Virgil spoke of his toils in prison, the machinations of a mans' inner fortitude when he's confined within a small concrete room 22 hours a day. He enlightened me on a few things, however. How aunt Tabitha is a kleptomaniac, cousin Paul actually did a 4 year stint inside the same prison when everyone thought he went off to the military, and most importantly why he was locked up for 15 years. 

He regaled me in his great endeavors from theiving, extortion, racketeering, all done by him and a group of goons from the midwest who he had met thriugh a connection he made serving 13 months in a county jail. The group was professional enough. They weren't anything like the movies. But they had a system. He was an enforcer. Due to his size and brawn I would imagine. And the other 4 had different tasks. A lookout. Two would collect. And one would drive the getaway. Long story short. He robbed a few banks. I was intrigued enough to keep asking questions when dad pointed out the time. 

"Ah geez," Virgil started. "Well shit there goes my beauty sleep." 
"You mind sleeping in the guest room, Nate? Virgil is a big man and im sure the queen bed in your room is a better match than the twin." 
"Oh, um. Actually i was thinking of getting a room closer to the cemetary."
"What are you crazy? No. You can take the guest room."
"Ah, alright Dad. What time is the funeral?"
"Early. We'll be at the church by six. Then by seven we should all be at the plot." As he said this, i caught a tear begin to build in his eye. Its really killing him. Virgil even put his arm around him and gave him a bear hug. My father was so small compared to that man. In different circumstances it would be almost comical. I didn't say anything after that. I just made my way to bed.
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Five o' clock. The alarm on my phone abruptly shakes the bedside table, rocking my glasses to the floor. I turn on the lamp and see Virgil from across the hall dressed in his black church clothes. He looks over at me, gives me a smile and says, "Heaven is a lot closer than hell, Nate." I'm still not entirely sure what he meant. Although, I'm sure he was referring to the ease of the act if absolution from ones sins. I took it on an even more spiritual note. You have to go out of your way to do bad things. More than likely, someone gives more effort hurting people than when they do to help someone in need. Greed, pride, murder, gluttony they all indeed do take a toll on a person. The profound early morning wisdom of my ex con uncle before my sisters casket viewing really sets the mood for the day. I felt it was going to be a long one. 

I drove seperately from my father. He was going to take Virgil back to the airport after the burial and gave me a spare key to the house so i wouldn't have to go with. 
The church was adorned beautifully. I could tell there was some remodeling that had been done since I had been gone. The large wooden cross that was there during my sacraments was now a large statue of the son. Catholic symbolism surrounded me. Angels to rival Michelangelo's and the array of colors beaming in through the beautifully colored glass made the air feel nostalgic and dream-like. The father began his sermon right on schedule. Incense was thrown around the coffin. Sanctifying the holy ghost to bear this soul with a comfortable rise to heaven. And to spare us any thought ofher past misdeeds. Smelled wonderful. I saw my aunts and cousins ahead of me in the pews. Sobbing, praying, some kids sleeping. All there for my sister. I never kept up with the family gossip. But I do know they all had quams with her. She had been caught smoking at their houses multiple times. My aunt Denise even caught one of her boyfriends one time and locked him in the bathroom until the police arrived and took him in for breaking and entering. But still, they show up and they feel the need to pray for her. They still love her, I'm sure of that. But, like Virgil said. Heaven's alot closer than Hell.
The rest of the burial ceremony was nice. A large assortment of flowers. A picture of her in her prom dress. And a eulogy, prepared and read by my father. He was articulate and stern the whole time. Fortified as always. Even when staring at deaths cold mouth. The man didn't flinch. Virgil, however, couldn't help but shift and make small talk with the family. Disrespectful, yes, but i dont blame the guy. He's been locked up. Let him do what he wants. 

The rest of my vacation was just me and my dad palling around town. Reminiscing and talking about our lives. In all honesty, I thought about moving back in with my family. To help him. But he insisted he'd be fine. Just like him. 

The time had come for me to leave. My dad helped me pack up and hugged me goodbye. The flight was leaving soon so i made haste back to the airport. I sat in the coach seat and i laid my head back to rest. My mind taking it all in. The gravity of the situation had finally hit me. I felt all my emotions come to. A tear rolled down my cheek as I watched the plane depart. I felt grateful for my family waiting on me. Maybe that's what Virgil meant.