What a cruel daughter. Didn't even cry at my own father's funeral. Well there were enough tears shed for you daddy - Aunt Lois', Uncle Gregory's, Cousin Janey's, Marcus', Joel's, Hannah's and Neil's. And others who I'm not sure how I'm related to, plus the tears from heaven. Mother, Nana, Grand Dad, Granny and Grandpop sent the rain daddy! Everyone cried to show you how much they love you, but you knew full well how much I did. So why should I cry for you daddy? Why?
I've just come back from my father's funeral, who's death I only became aware of three days after it happened. How could the hospital not successfully reach me? How come not a single relative gave me a call telling me that I was now officially an orphan? Yes, that's right. An orphan. And unfortunately not an orphan like Annie who could sing her way through it.
People don't seem to tell me things anymore. Not about the death, not about the cut down on everyone's salaries at my workplace (my boss seemed to have forgotten to put my address on the list to the secretary), and my dad didn't tell me about his heart problems. Which people say he did to "not worry you" and "keep you focused on your work". Well look what came to it? A stormy funeral and hospital debt that I have to pay off.
Death seems to be part of my life, even though I'm only twenty-seven, childless and unmarried. I suppose I'll die early, and I can't say I mind. I don't want to have to go through the tears, the funeral planning and black clothing, again and again as my relatives die off one after the other, leaving me. I'm never having a child, just in case I end up living to see him or her die too. Us Durants have far too many children waiting to pass away without warning.
So I'm going to leave it all. I'm going to go somewhere. Somewhere far away from San Francisco, California where all the Durant ghosts float. I'm going to relive and honor my father's favorite pastime. Across the United States of America. A road trip.
You'll come with me daddy?