The funeral was held two weeks after my father's death. My feelings were as mixed as a fruit cocktail. Anger from him not telling us and putting my sister into care. Happiness that finally he can rest in peace after all the trouble he had had recently with mum. Sadness, well he's dead.
If there was one word to sum up all my emotions it would be confusion. I was simply confused. It had happened so fast, too quick to register in my mind. I never even got to say the crucial 'I love you'. My heart was weighed down with so much of this 'confusion' that it felt it was going to drop right through my chest and slip about on the floor.
People I didn't even know showed up to the funeral offering their condolences. I didn't want their stupid condolences, I wanted my dad. My mum didn't show up in the end anyway just making it harder for me and my sister. The social worker explained to me this was the last chance I would be able to see my sister most probably and I was devastated. After the service I walked up to her and we stood there hugging for at least 10 minutes until one of the relatives prised us apart by asking to talk to me in private. All she said was how sorry she was and how unfortunate it was for me to lose a parent at such a young age.
"Thank you for your concern," was all I could say.
By the time I got back my sister was packed in a little black car and was being riven off to a new home. Her smile, the last one I would ever see came to me as coldness. It was frightening that my family was slowly being ripped from its frame and shredded to oblivion.
I had overcome the inevitable death of my father and I knew there was more in wait for me.