Grievance

I wasn’t sure if I should show up here today.

We haven’t spoken in years.

Family quarrels that all seem pretty trivial now.

Somehow, I always thought I would go before her…even though she’s technically older than me.

But alas, here we are.

I’m not surprised there aren’t many people here. She’s never been the most pleasant or likable person.

Her one good friend, Betsey, managed to come. Good for her. Betsey has always been good to my sister, so I’m not surprised. Although, she doesn’t seem quite as sad as I would expect. But I know people handle grief in different, unique ways, so I guess…I won’t judge.

And then there’s our big brother Joseph. Pretty close to both of us. Always tried to play mediator, but unfortunately to no avail. I wish I could remember the last time I talked to him.

Huddled behind this big oak tree, I’m at a safe-enough distance to be able to say I came, that I’m here, to pay my respects and show my love in my own way, but not too close to where I risk being bombarded by well-meaning gestures of awkward politeness and obligatory expressions of condolences.

And of course they’re here. My kids, Lita and Tommy. They always had a decent relationship with their Aunt Tina, despite hers and mine. And, well, despite theirs and mine.

I never wanted to keep them from that.

Still, they do look a little sadder than I would expect.

They even managed to get our childhood pastor to come out and say a few words, even though, who knows when any of us last went to church. But still, a nice thought.

“None of us live this life perfectly,” the pastor says as both hands clutch his Bible against his mostly black robe. “None of us are supposed to. Only God can be perfection. But we try and do our best. And that’s what she did. This good woman lived as best as she could!”

Yeah, I bet.

Joseph missed the first tear but makes sure not to let this second get away so easily. My little Lita, sporting her favorite black sunglasses, gently pats his back, to try and comfort him.

She has always been my more comforting child, never really meaning much harm, always trying to bring peace to every situation. Kind of like the Joseph of my two.

My other one was…something.

A spicy one, that one—I hardly had a moment’s break once he came into the picture. I sometimes wonder if maybe I should’ve stopped with her.

But I suppose he’s showing he has some kind of decency, being here to say goodbye to his dear aunt and all. Bless his little heart.

It’s a little odd to me that Joseph would be sitting with Lita and Tommy. He’s always tried to be close to them, and I’ve always had to put him in his place.

“You are not their daddy!!” I’ve screamed I don’t know how many times, and yet he’s never seemed to catch the clue.

“I know, Trina,” he would say, “But since their actual dad isn’t in their lives, I kinda thought—”

“But no one asked you to do that!” I’d tell him. “They are just fine. They don’t need no daddy. They have me!”

And they do. Well, they do whenever they act appreciative enough about it. Any other time is on them.

“Would any of her loved ones now like to say a few words?” the pastor asks.

Damn. His sermon is over already?! That was fast. What did he even say?!

I guess there isn’t much to say about her, but still. He got another appointment to get to or something?! Who hired him?

Just as my brother begins to raise his hand, some activity in the distance causes the small group to look up.

It is Jenna, our baby sis by over a decade. Figures she’d be this late. There’s only one other person who would be even later, if she weren’t over there laying in that casket.

And mixed feelings on not being close enough to see her in the casket. Like, of course I know what my sister looks like, and despite our differences, I’d rather not have my last, and probably most lasting, time seeing her being like…that.

But it also might be the last time I ever see her…in the flesh, in some form. And it’s been a long time since the last time. So, I kind of feel like I should.

Still, since my somewhat interest to see her now still isn’t quite as great as making sure I’m not seen by any of them, I guess I’ll just have to use my imagination. Besides, I can always just look in the mirror.

As Jenna gets settled on the other side of Tommy, Joseph takes the podium.

“Hey, everyone,” he begins. “I love my sister…so…much,” he chokes tears for a moment. “I’m going to miss her. And yes, I can admit… She was a complicated soul…”

As he continues what I know will be a painfully optimistic, perhaps not the most deserving tribute, I find myself internally reciting my own eulogy of our beloved sibling.

She was a royal pain in the a—

She was a very antagonist—

Sigh. I suck at this, even in my head.

I take a deep inhale and then exhale…before letting myself feel a little more. And my mind suddenly finds its way back in our childhood.

Our days of much more innocence and tolerance of one another. Dare I say we actually….liked…one another back then?

Suddenly, visions overcome me of us sitting in her bedroom, playing with our Barbies. Thank God we each had our own—rooms and dolls—because sharing wasn’t exactly either of our strong suits.

Both of our dolls had wild hair—hers brunette with an attempt of black ombre thanks to a very successful permanent marker, and mine blonde with random, uneven streaks of green and purple.

We unfortunately did have to share our Ken, but also fortunately, we both weren’t too pressed about that part of the storyline back in those days. Barbie — each of our Barbies — was enough of the recurring starring role. But Ken made occasional guest appearances.

Tina and I were also always really good with make-believe. We would create these whole imaginative worlds mainly we would live in and occasionally invite others to visit. And there’d be no limits to the fantasy: flying frogs, pink lizards, singing unicorns, walking the sky, and flying through grass.

Nothing was off-limits.

The more I think about it, we had so much fun back then. I honestly don’t know what the fuck happened.

Actually, I do.

My own sudden, distinct sounds of moistened sniffles nearly betray me. I didn’t think to bring Kleenex because, well… I didn’t think I’d need them.

My eyes widen as they quickly look around at the other attendees. Good, it seems no one else heard it, and I try to time any additional annoying nasal outbursts with those of the others.

The last time I saw Tina, it was six years ago, on New Year’s Eve—the day before our birthday.

We wanted to celebrate in completely different ways, what else is new. She wanted a big to-do, with what few friends she had, with champagne, balloons, and the whole nine.

I, on the other hand, wanted a nice, relaxing night at home.

That's pretty much always been the case—if I wanted to go left, she preferred right. If she picked pink, I’d go with something like neon green.

Hell, I’d probably be inclined to go to Hell if I knew she were definitely going to Heaven. Or vice-versa.

Probably more likely the vice-versa.

Not that I hate her or anything, to think that drastically. We’ve just always been that drastically different. Unfortunately didn’t get the “think/do/be everything the same” gene that many identical lookalikes get.

Anywho, for the birthday that year, one would think we could’ve just done our own thing and celebrated the way we wanted to, right?

Wrong.

She really wanted me to be at her big shindig. At what she said was our big shindig.

“You only turn 40 once!” she obnoxiously shouted multiple times.

And I really wanted to be home. And neither one of us wanted to part on the day. On our day. Especially with it happening to fall on a Saturday of all days.

The best day of the week for fun and celebration, she said.

The best day of the week for rest and relaxation, I said.

She asked if I could have my relaxing solo day the day before or the day after.

“No, because the day before and they day after aren’t my birthday!!” I snapped back. “And they aren’t Saturday! Why don’t you move your thing!”

“Okay, fine!” she shouted back, and I lingered in silence for a few moments, not expecting that kind of concession that quickly.

“…Huh?” I said.

She sighed. “We can have the big celebration the Saturday before or after…or hey, even the day before, on New Year’s Eve!”

Oh, I thought.

She was so sure I’d now be onboard.

But I wasn’t.

In addition to wanting to celebrate how I wanted to celebrate on my actual birthday, I also just didn't want to go to her thing at all. And she couldn’t believe it.

“Why do you always have to be like this?!?” She’d shouted, on the verge of tears.

“Tina, really?! Always so damned dramatic. Go have your little party!! Just do it without me! What’s the big deal?!? Stopped being so damned selfish!!”

“I’m selfish?!?” she snided.

She apparently really had her heart set on this and seemed more devastated than I would’ve predicted that I didn’t want to budge on the day, nor participate in what she had in mind even once she budged.

And so we exchanged some pretty harsh words. And then each got to celebrate the way we wanted—just without each other. And that was the last time we ever spoke.

Crazy, right?

Maybe part of me always resented her a little, in feeling like she wanted us to be more lookalikes than I cared to.

We did look alike, sure, but did that mean we had to act and be alike with every damned thing?!?

“No, not everything,” she said in some of her final words to me that day. “But some things. Certain really special things, like this. At least this, sis. At least this.”

The next day, I got to enjoy my nice glass of Pinot Grigio in front of a marathon of Grey’s Anatomy. And she got to do…whatever she did.

As it should be.

And now, here we are, six years later… Here.

She was nice-ish to me when we were kids. As we got older, not so much. I’m not saying she was a bad person, just that… Karma, and all of that.

My tears now are mainly from when we were kids.

And I guess my kids aren’t going to go up and speak. Makes sense. Not like she was their mother. As much as I know she wanted to be, since she learned she couldn’t have any of her own.

“Thank you for that, Brother Joseph,” the pastor says. “Would anyone else like to come up and share a few final thoughts?”

Each of the remaining attendees—Betsey, Jenna, and Tommy with alarmingly dry faces, and Lita’s only barely red and moist—turn to one another in continued silence and remain seated.

Her own best friend Betsey doesn’t have anything to say?! They’ve been best friends since elementary school!!

And Jenna? Our little sister has no words?! After all she did for her over the years?!?? One thing I’ll give Tina, she was there for our little sis way more than I ever was.

And yet neither of them have anything to say on this last day before she’s put into the ground? Wow. People are cold.

“If no one else has words, allow me to lead you in closing prayer before we conclude today’s service. Please close your eyes,” and they all obey, as the pastor proceeds to bless the soul of the cold, lifeless body just feet away.

My brother briefly pulls his hand away from my daughter’s to wipe his face against his jacket.

Dude, you’re at a funeral. It’s okay to cry.

Her head still bowed, she rubs his shoulder and then, maybe from obligatory politeness, because it isn’t like he needs it, gently squeezes her brother’s hand with her other.

As the pastor continues, a car I don’t recognize begins to approach in the far distance, on the side opposite of the gathering.

I raise an eyebrow, because who else would be here other than who’s already here?! And this late, no less?

Everyone’s eyes remain closed as the back seat swings open, a woman darts out and then slams the door behind. She then quickly looks back, putting her hand out, and seems to apologize to the driver before he drives off. A huge, colorful floral arrangement she carries nearly obscures her view as she tries to hurry over to the concluding ceremony.

“In Jesus’ name,” the pastor says moments later, “Amen.” And their eyes all open again. “Now,” he continues, “we’re going to give everyone a few minutes for private moments to say your final goodbyes, and then we’ll lay her to final rest and close the casket.”

It seems no one else yet notices the mysterious flowers-carrying woman, but as she gets closer, my eyes narrow.

She begins jogging in her beige heels, almost tripping a few times along the way.

As she almost reaches the group, Lita sees her first and smiles softly.

Joseph, Tommy, and even Jenna look annoyed as they finally see her next, and, true to character, Lita pats her back and welcomes her right into the fold.

My eyes bulge and my jaw drops as I see the woman who shares my face mouth to my brother, “Did you get my text? I am so sorry. Someone hit me on the way, and it took a while for the police to come and do the report. I ended up having to take an Uber.”

“Oh my God, are you okay?!” Joseph frantically asks.

She nods, and he pulls her close before they both turn to the pastor.

My gaze remains fixed on her.

How…

What……

Who…?!??

“Thank you for joining us, Sister Tina,” the pastor greets her with a comforting hug. “Unless you have some words to share, we were just about to let everyone pay their private final respects before we close the casket.”

“Sister Tina” looks around and does look like she has some things to say, but also recognizing her her extreme tardiness as well as other factors it looks like she's considering, she instead shakes her head, cueing for things to go on from where they were moments ago.

As, one-by-one, they all walk up to the casket, I feel a surge pull me away from my obscurity, oddly no longer caring about being seen and everyone knowing I'm here, and sucked like a powerful vacuum over to it, too.

Just minutes ago, I had a surprisingly nagging desire to look into the casket to see my lookalike one last time.

Now I have an outright unrelenting desire to look to see just who the hell is in that thing if it isn’t her?!?

I practically power walk up, half-surprised no one seems to be shocked by my sudden appearance or, for instance, that Lita isn’t running over to pat my back.

And the level of shock I felt upon first seeing Tina a few minutes ago now greatly pales, for in that seven-by-two wooden box is…

Her lookalike.

I stand there, looking at what appears to be my own face in that wooden tomb, and I'm speechless.

When did I die?

How?

“What the hell is going on, guys?!?” I yell out and then turn around and suddenly see that no one is actually looking at, let alone interacting with, me. At least not the me me. They’re all headed for that box.

Betsey comforts her friend, my sister Tina. Joseph and Jenna try to comfort Lita and even Tommy, as they break down for the first time since the whole thing started.

And I see for the first time the obituary on one of their seats.

Trina Pines, January 1, 1979 - December 31, 2024. Forever missed.

“What the fuck happened?!?!?” I scream but to faces of grieving indifference.