The smell of the building surprised me. I was expecting the aromas of decay and filth. As I walked into the large, house-like structure, I was instead met with the smells of mothballs, cleanliness and stale air. Before I chose to attend, I was warned that I would never forget, and the smells would make me sick. But it smelled sterile, and it felt wrong. It didn’t feel right as I stole a glance to the far wall and saw the open casket. There wasn’t very many people on the first day, the day of the viewing. Although there wasn’t many people, everybody was crying. The air was thick with a sort of despair. It felt terrible. It felt so unbelievably unrealistic, like it was all a joke. A small part of me was expecting my grandfather’s peaceful body to spring upright and declare with enjoyment, “ Gotcha!” but he didn’t. It was real alright, but it never should have happened, not like this.

I was in the hospital with my family, not more than two weeks before. He was happy to see us  and looked relieved that we came. The doctors and himself all explained that it was a minor procedure, and he’d be healthy in no time at all. But Grandpa seemed to know that he would not be leaving the hospital alive. When my sister and I approached him and hugged him, he couldn’t contain the flowing of his tears. He grasped each of our hands and spoke.

“I love all of my grandchildren,” He said, tears in his eyes, “I always have.” He said with deep sadness, grasping our hands tighter.

My grandfather knew he was going to die. Somehow he seemed to know and that helped me to realize that he wasn’t scared of dying and that by knowing, he readied himself for the end. I didn’t know him very well, but I still grieve his death, knowing that he was an amazing person.

The day after the viewing was the funeral. I was surprised to see at least a hundred people that were strangers to me, but were cherished by Grandpa. There were sad faces everywhere, seated in the crowded rooms of the funeral home. On the far wall near the still-opened casket, were loads of potted plants and bouquets. All of them had cards with little notes of condolences written upon them. To the side of the casket and the flowers, was a large podium for the pastor to give his eulogy and talk about all of the great things grandpa did in his life. There was an absence of scent on the day of the funeral, despite the amount of people seated inside.

After the funeral anyone who wanted, traveled to a church not to far away, to eat. The mood was brighter and happier when we left the funeral home. There was a lot of food. There were pies, brownies, meats, jellies, salads, vegetables and rolls. There was a large room filled with great round tables. The tables were facing a white projector screen and playing on the screen was a slideshow showing pictures of grandpa and his wife. We could all see his smiling face as he was being goofy on his vacations with his wife, Ruth. It was almost like we forgot, just for a moment, that he was no longer with us.

We decided to attend the burial, but first we stopped and picked up a bouquet of sunflowers and roses to put on his casket. He was to be buried in Jennings Cemetery, not too far away from Lake City. There were cars parked along the entire road as we arrived. Standing near the burial site were members of the AMVETS who performed a twenty-one gun salute before the burial. It was a nice day for a burial. The sun was shining as the servicemen folded up an American flag into a neat triangle and presented it to a sobbing Ruth. My mother was in tears. The pastor started to speak again about how wonderful Grandpa was and how much he accomplished in his life. We were told we could place our flowers atop the casket. Mom took them out of the bouquet and started to pass the flowers around individually. I approached the casket, my mother at my side, and carefully placed a single rose atop the casket. We didn’t see the men from the funeral home place the casket in the ground, they dismissed everyone but Grandpa’s wife and brothers before we got a chance.

On the way back to Cadillac, I was remembering everything I could about Grandpa. I remembered how my mom once told me that Grandpa got in an argument with my grandpa on my dad’s side when I was born. They were arguing about whose last name I should inherit. Since my mother and father were not yet married it was a big deal to my grandpas. To this day I think it is funny, both of them were so similar, they could’ve been friends. But a little argument about whose last name I should get caused them to dislike each other until both of their deaths.
I don’t think I want to attend another funeral in the near future. But if i do I’ll know that no matter how much sadness and despair everyone might feel at a funeral, it's important to remember the good times and happy memories.