Extreme Irony

On Monday, February 19, 2007, I received a phone call from my mom telling me that one of the boys I went to high school with had died in a motorcycle crash. I hadn’t known the boy as well as I would have liked to, but I did consider him a friend. Moreover, I wanted to be there for my good friends who were close to him, and who needed a shoulder to cry on. It was for these reasons that I rode all the way home from college, almost a two hour drive, just to go to his viewing.

For those of you who have never been to the funeral viewing of a twenty year old boy who had been raised in a small town by parents who literally knew everyone, take my word for it, it is not something you want to experience. When I arrived at the funeral home with my younger brother, just a few minute after they had opened, there was already a long line of people outside the front door. Somehow, in all the tears and confusion, I was able to find my friends standing in the middle of the line. As we all stood there, them silently trying to hold back their tears, I couldn’t help but hear the conversation of the people behind us. They were talking and laughing. I know that people deal with pain in different ways, some with laughter and some with tears, but as I stood there listening to the latest small-town gossip, I couldn’t help but think about how much the line I was standing in reminded me of the lines at Six Flags. You know what I’m talking about, those impossibly long lines that you stand in when you’re waiting for you’re turn on the “death defying” rollercoaster, but this was nothing like Six Flags. There was no exciting rollercoaster waiting for me at the end. There were only tears, and a dampened sweater from where my best friend cried on my shoulder.

As I stood there, noting the extreme irony of the whole situation, the people behind me continued to laugh.

~Kayla Elise