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Authors: Stephanie Karpinske
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came down to the station and he suggested doing it sooner rather than later. It doesn’t get any easier, Sam, the longer you wait.”
“Fine. Then do it whenever you want!” I shouted at him. “You seem to have already made the decision anyway!”
Dave wasn’t sure how to respond. “I, I didn’t mean to take over, Sam. I was just trying to take the burden off of you. I know you don’t think so, but you’re still so young and this whole situation is too much for you to handle by yourself. I’m sorry if you feel excluded. The day of the service can be changed. You can have as much input as you want.”
But he was right. I wasn’t able to take on planning a funeral. I needed him to do it. I had never even thought about my parents’ funeral before then. Why would I? They were in their forties. People didn’t die in their forties. Well, sure some did, but not many. And my parents were in perfect health. They worked out, ate right, didn’t smoke. Why would I ever think about their deaths?
“Just forget it. Wednesday is fine.” I looked up at Dave who now seemed afraid to say anything. “So who do we, um, invite?” I regretted the question the second I said it. You don’t “invite” people to a funeral. It’s not a party! I suddenly felt guilty, like I had disrespected the two people I loved most in this world.
“Now don’t get mad, Sam, but I actually contacted everyone already. Your mom gave me a list of their friends last year when we had that surprise party for your dad. And of course I know all of their colleagues at the university. I can give you the list if you want.”
“No, I don’t need to see it.” I was more relieved than angry that Dave had taken care of calling people. I couldn’t say the words aloud myself, let alone tell anyone else what happened.
“So what did people say?” I asked, not sure if I wanted the answer. “What did they say when you told them?”
“Oh, Sam, they were devastated. People loved your folks. They had so many good things to say. Many people offered to speak at the service, but I wanted to talk to you first. Everyone said how kind and generous your folks were and—well, everyone asked how you were doing. You may not know all these people, Sam, but they all know you. Your parents talked about you constantly. They were so proud.” Dave looked up at the ceiling, trying not to cry.
A lump formed in my throat. I’d had more than I could handle in one day. My parents, the funeral, Dave moving in. It was too much, too fast.
“I’m really tired, Dave. I’m gonna go to my room.”
Dave let me go, unsure what else he could possibly say or do to help me. He was not equipped to be thrown into the father role. As I went upstairs, I could hear him quietly sobbing and then felt my own tears start to roll down my face.
The next day came and went without me ever leaving my room. I didn’t want to see anyone or talk to anyone. I heard Colin downstairs in the morning. Dave sent him away, knowing I wanted to be alone. The phone rang constantly and people kept coming to the door. I could hear Colin’s parents, and then Allie and her parents, and Josh, my boss, and even a few of my teachers. I heard other people I didn’t recognize coming and going and I guessed they were people Mom and Dad used to work with.
Around noon, I could smell food outside my door—probably canned soup warmed up by Dave, one of the few meals he could make. A few hours later, it was still there and Dave knocked on my door.
“Sam, can I come in?” Dave asked.
“Yeah, okay.”
He came in holding a stack of sympathy cards. “Guess you’re not hungry. I can get you something else.”
“No thanks.”
“Some people brought these over for you.” He held out the cards.
“Just set them on the desk.”
Dave put the cards down and came over to sit on my bed. “Do you want to come out for a little bit? A lot of people want to see you. They’re worried about you.”
“I
“Fine. Then do it whenever you want!” I shouted at him. “You seem to have already made the decision anyway!”
Dave wasn’t sure how to respond. “I, I didn’t mean to take over, Sam. I was just trying to take the burden off of you. I know you don’t think so, but you’re still so young and this whole situation is too much for you to handle by yourself. I’m sorry if you feel excluded. The day of the service can be changed. You can have as much input as you want.”
But he was right. I wasn’t able to take on planning a funeral. I needed him to do it. I had never even thought about my parents’ funeral before then. Why would I? They were in their forties. People didn’t die in their forties. Well, sure some did, but not many. And my parents were in perfect health. They worked out, ate right, didn’t smoke. Why would I ever think about their deaths?
“Just forget it. Wednesday is fine.” I looked up at Dave who now seemed afraid to say anything. “So who do we, um, invite?” I regretted the question the second I said it. You don’t “invite” people to a funeral. It’s not a party! I suddenly felt guilty, like I had disrespected the two people I loved most in this world.
“Now don’t get mad, Sam, but I actually contacted everyone already. Your mom gave me a list of their friends last year when we had that surprise party for your dad. And of course I know all of their colleagues at the university. I can give you the list if you want.”
“No, I don’t need to see it.” I was more relieved than angry that Dave had taken care of calling people. I couldn’t say the words aloud myself, let alone tell anyone else what happened.
“So what did people say?” I asked, not sure if I wanted the answer. “What did they say when you told them?”
“Oh, Sam, they were devastated. People loved your folks. They had so many good things to say. Many people offered to speak at the service, but I wanted to talk to you first. Everyone said how kind and generous your folks were and—well, everyone asked how you were doing. You may not know all these people, Sam, but they all know you. Your parents talked about you constantly. They were so proud.” Dave looked up at the ceiling, trying not to cry.
A lump formed in my throat. I’d had more than I could handle in one day. My parents, the funeral, Dave moving in. It was too much, too fast.
“I’m really tired, Dave. I’m gonna go to my room.”
Dave let me go, unsure what else he could possibly say or do to help me. He was not equipped to be thrown into the father role. As I went upstairs, I could hear him quietly sobbing and then felt my own tears start to roll down my face.
The next day came and went without me ever leaving my room. I didn’t want to see anyone or talk to anyone. I heard Colin downstairs in the morning. Dave sent him away, knowing I wanted to be alone. The phone rang constantly and people kept coming to the door. I could hear Colin’s parents, and then Allie and her parents, and Josh, my boss, and even a few of my teachers. I heard other people I didn’t recognize coming and going and I guessed they were people Mom and Dad used to work with.
Around noon, I could smell food outside my door—probably canned soup warmed up by Dave, one of the few meals he could make. A few hours later, it was still there and Dave knocked on my door.
“Sam, can I come in?” Dave asked.
“Yeah, okay.”
He came in holding a stack of sympathy cards. “Guess you’re not hungry. I can get you something else.”
“No thanks.”
“Some people brought these over for you.” He held out the cards.
“Just set them on the desk.”
Dave put the cards down and came over to sit on my bed. “Do you want to come out for a little bit? A lot of people want to see you. They’re worried about you.”
“I
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