Miss Marvelous: The Pit Fall

The day of the funeral. I silently followed my cousins into the only Free Methodist Church in Manhattan. Me, my cousins, (five in total), aunt, uncle and my foster mom’s sister Carolanne stood at the front of the sanctuary, in front of all of the flowers and photos of my uncle Kelly and my foster dad Joe.

In the center of that was two small rectangular boxes that held the ashes of my deceased family members, sitting on top of a table. As people were showing up, we were being greeted by them, before they sat down in the pews.

Some people that greeted me I didn’t even know I was related to. Like my cousin Cameron Nelles. I had no idea that I had a fifth cousin until today.

Once all the guests filled the pews, my family took a few moments of silence before the service began. In between the singing of Christian songs and scripture reading, were different tributers that had prepared speeches. And they weren’t just members of my foster family; There were some colleagues and close friends.

The ceremony was done well, however during my cousin Cameron’s tribute speech, somebody in the back of the church started coughing. And they were coughing for alongtime. No one dared to turn their heads back to see who it was or tell them to stop.

Thankfully, they did stop. But not until it was about minutes into his speech.

After singing ‘The Goodness of God’, the pastor came up to the front of the sanctuary and announced that the end of the service will end at the cemetery and a luncheon will follow, after the family returns to the church.

Once he was finished, the four pallbearers came up, picked up the table with the two long poles, with each one grabbed an end and the entire crowd stood up, before the pallbearers carried it out of the church and loaded it up in a small blue truck.

Then my family and I were the group to follow after them, to get into the vehicles in front and behind the truck. I got in a red ford SUV explorer with my aunt, uncle and a couple of my foster mom’s friends.

Debbie and her husband Brian, who used to sing in a group together with my foster mom Sherry and Kelly. But now two members of their group, Our Journey Calls, are gone, only leaving Debbie as the last member alive.

As we drove behind the blue truck on our way to the cemetery, quite a few cars pulled over to the side, letting the long parade of vehicles go by and showing respect towards my foster family’s losses.

Once we got to the cemetery, (that’s located just outside of Manhattan), my aunt Wendy parked on the side of the road and we all got out, joining the rest of the crowd of people that were already making their way over to the rows of gravestones.

After the pallbearers carried over the table with the long poles--that held the boxes of Joe’s and Kelly’s ashes safe--over to the new two looking gravestones, we all gathered around it before the pastor began to say a few words.

As the older man spoke, he took a small vial out from his coat pocket and lightly poured out the grey powder on top of the boxes, creating two small crosses on each one.

Then the pastor invited the pallbearers back up again to place the boxes in the six-foot-deep holes.

Please don’t fall in, please don’t fall in,I thought as I stood in the front row with my foster family, watching the four men walk to the holes with the table-like thing.

But I unfortunately jinxed it. The second pallbearer’s foot slid on the grass and went down towards the small rectangle sized hole, causing the man to fall backwards.

Everyone gasped at the sight of this, as they watched the guy land on his back and his foot kept on sliding down further.

Luckily, there was a tarp covering the top and stopped the pallbearer’s foot from going to the bottom. One of the other pallbearers helped him up to his feet, before they carried on with the service.

Now being extremely careful, the four pallbearers paired off into groups of two and together the pairs placed both of the ash boxes in their designated holes, before getting out of the way and letting people come up to drop roses on top.

One by one, each member of my foster family (nuclear and extended), came up to the deep holes and dropped a red rose in each.

After I gently set my pair of roses on top of the piles, the pastor dismissed us to go back to the church for the luncheon.

At first, no one moved until I stepped a few feet away from the group to blow my nose (because it was starting to run from the growing cold weather).

As soon as I finished cleaning up my nose and stuffed the balled-up tissues in my black coat pocket, a short lady suddenly approached me and asked if I was alright.

“Yes, I’m fine. I just needed to fix up my nose” I told her.

The lady shrugged her shoulders at me before going to talk to someone else.

Odd,I thought as I rejoined my aunt, uncle and cousins to get back into the SUV.

The ride back to the church was pretty silent, only hearing the sound of the wind whistling past the car and the blinker turn clicks whenever my aunt Wendy needed to flick one on to turn.

When everyone got back, my foster family and the guests gathered in the gymnasium in the church, where many tables were set up.

In the center of the gym, were two long rows of tables to set the food on.

I found a seat beside my cousin Rachel and Hannah, who were sitting at the table next to the beverage table.

Some of my foster relatives were sitting there as well, including my cousin Darcy, Alex, aunt Wendy, uncle Kevin, and my cousin Cameron.

Once the cooks had set out the food they’re prepared (which was a bunch of snacking foods and only a few kinds of sandwiches), the pastor blessed the meal and everyone swarmed around the buffet tables, grabbing a paper plate and hastily snagging the delicious foods, like the pretzel crackers or the egg salad sandwiches.

When I finally got up to the table, there wasn’t a lot left. I only grabbed what I know I like, before getting a Coca Cola from the beverage table and sitting down in my seat, joining the conservation with my relatives.