It was a sunny day on the beautiful island of Jamaica the day that I rode the van that followed behind the hearse in the funeral procession.  However, I did not concentrate on the weather.  I was thinking about the fact that I was following my aunt, the one whom I loved so dearly.  I kept looking around the van and saw only solemn faces and teary eyes.  I was already sad, but the weeping of my surrounding family made me even sadder.  This was perhaps the one time in my life that I felt what everyone around me was thinking. It was so easily read on their faces.  I tried hard to be strong, because my little sister was there.  I knew that if she saw me sad, it would only make things worse for her. My mind raced with thoughts of how someone so jovial and full of energy could now lay so calm and solemn with arms crossed; arms that can no longer hug me or pinch my cheeks, arms that lay lifeless.  I reflected on why my aunt had to be the one. She was a God-fearing woman, a mother, a wife, an aunt, and a sister. Oh, how much I missed her. This was one of the first times in my life that I did not care that it was a sunny day, or that the breeze was blowing.  On this day the sun could not brighten my day. 

The van came to a stop at the side of the grassy hill. I started to descend down the stairs of the vehicle, and then my head really began to spin as I thought about being one of the pall-bearers. I became quite uneasy knowing that I would have to carry my aunt, someone that was so full of energy, but now who lay so helplessly in a casket.  I thought to myself, Earl you must be strong for your little cousins, so I stepped to the side of that casket and gripped that rail as hard as I could, as if she had not already left me.  Her lot was at the top of a very muddy hill, and with each step my feet sunk into the muddy ground under the weight of the casket.  I had a suit on with my dress shoes, but for the first time in my life, I did not even care about my outfit getting dirty.  I could have waded through a pond in my clothes, and it would not have phased me. I had greater things on my mind, such as how much I missed my aunt, and why did my aunt have to be the one to die? 

Out of the corners of my eyes, I saw tears fall from the ones I love and each drop made the journey longer. Sadness, anger, and loneliness were an awful combination, but I had already swallowed the solution. The mixed emotions buried deep within me were bubbling and could be read all over my face.  If looks could kill, not one person at that burial would be left standing.  As I walked, I could feel myself cutting through the pain and anguish that made the air thick.

I thought about all the people who had told me they were sorry, or that they knew how I felt, and it made me angrier because they did not know.  I felt that only my family and I could feel the pain, and that anyone stepping to me with empathy and such foolishness should just get out of my face.  To me it felt like God was absent because I thought that there was supposed to be joy and happiness in his presence, and both were absent. It was amazing how the devil could make island breezes feel like torrent winds, and sunny skies look like thunder clouds.  However, neither the breeze nor the sun affected me.  I was a walking corpse.  I only felt pain in my soul, and my body was oblivious to any feeling. I finally reached the place where my aunt would be laid to rest, and where I could say my last goodbye, a one-sided goodbye. 

I laid down the casket on the top of the burial place, but my body still felt burdened. Family and friends gathered around the coffin and started to sing hymns.  I thought about how many people my aunt had touched in her life.  All those people held a piece of her in their hearts and it made me proud. The top of the casket was then opened so that we could view my aunt one last time and toss in flowers.  I was truly disheartened, but for some reason, happiness started to creep up inside me because my aunt looked so peaceful. She was now free from the pains of her cancer and the troubles of the world.  I thought about how she was a God-fearing woman; one who would soon be in heaven.  I knew that from that moment on I would have to work hard so that I could get to heaven one day to again see my aunt.  Maybe that is why God let my aunt be taken, to give me and my other family members that were on the wrong track, a greater incentive to go to heaven. In the most thoughtful journey of my life, I realized that my aunt was taken to save us.

Also by Earl:

Caryl Phillips: The Black Atlanticist

The South