And so I rolled back home at 5:30 in the morning after leaving immediately after work the night before. Hours later I was awake again.
I hadn't really been home for awhile, and I felt somewhat guilty that the reason I was home was for a funeral. But nevertheless, I was home. My mom was asleep in her voice, my sis in hers, and two of my aunts asleep in the livingroom. I was home.
I had made it to the wake at my best friends house. I pulled up on the country road and parked on side as there was no parking anywhere near the house. Hundreds of people showed up to pay their respect for the passing of a great man. Old co-workers of mine were there; as well as long time friends I haven't seen for years. Many hadn't looked the same as when I had first left for college, but after a brief catch-up session, I had seen that many hadn't changed at all.
The relationships of long past were still evident for me. I had found old high school friends and hung with them for the majority of the wake, up until the procession at the burial site. And I hung around with one of my best friends to show her I still cared for her and loved her as I did in high school; for she was the one who had lost a father.
Throughout my entire visit, I remembered their family. How they interacted with each other, how they spoke, and their own distinct smile that only a family member could bring out. I was always envious of them. They always looked so happy.
My guess is that they knew that this may happen. For even now, they all seemed happy. Sure they were greiving for their lost loved one, and it showed; but a smile would still break out.
I miss home.
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