Memories...

   A sea of black suits and dresses gathered near the entrance to the church. Even though my hand was clamped tightly to my brothers palm, I remember being afraid of losing him in the crowd. We stopped every once in a while and I looked up at the sad faces above me. We squeezed through two ladies who were talking about life and things that I couldn't comprehend.
 
   The sea of black started to part as people began to find their seats. I kept hearing whispers like "So young....too young..."  and words that I didn't understand like "tragedy". Before I could give them too much thought, I was pulled forward. My mother appeared as the two dark suits moved out of my line of vision. She was sitting on a pew to my left, her eyes blankly stared ahead as if she didn't even notice me standing 3 feet away. I took slow dragging steps towards that sad face that was always hardest for me to see.
She sat straight and cold, patting her tears away with an already damp handkerchief. She gripped that handkerchief so tightly in her shaking hands...
 
   It was so strange for me to see this. Usually the situation was reversed, I cried, and mom would comfort me. I was growing more and more confused. I was only six after all. My mind couldn't come up with any answers that day. I'd like to say that I had said something innocent and cute, or something somewhat wise for my young age. I'd like to say that I even said anything at all. No. Even now, 11 years later, this thing called death confuses me.

   There are some times in life when there is simply nothing to say. Apparently I learned this early on, because not one sound came out of me. I just sat there. Lips tightly sealed. Eyes straight ahead. Shuffling uncomfortably in my itchy, black, funeral dress.