My therapist says it’s not healthy or productive to think about all the things I could have or should have done. But I can’t help it. I’m his brother. He needed me. And I did nothing.
I feel my mom’s hand on my arm, and I look down to see that I have completely destroyed the program I was holding.I throw it to the side and bury my face in my hands as I rest my elbows on my knees. I haven’t been listening to a word that’s being said. This priest didn’t know Jacob, so what could he possibly have to say about his life other than all the clichés?
I’m tired of people telling me how sorry they are for my loss. Don’t feel sorry for me; feel sorry for Jacob. Feel sorry that he felt so helpless and alone that he thought complete, dark nothingness was better than being in this world.
At the prayer service last night, some of his classmates and professors came up to my mother and offered their condolences. Where the fuck were they when Jacob needed them? They saw him every day. How could no one notice? Where was the school when he reached out for guidance or asked for extensions?
In the middle of his program, when I still saw Jacob regularly, he always used to tell me how shitty it was there. How everyone was in it for themselves, and everyone was always gatekeeping their secrets to success. He told me how the staff was condescending and always made the students feel stupid in the clinic for not knowing things. He said the patients were often rude to him and would blame him for their problems. He even told me once that there is a high suicide rate among dentists. I guess that's what happens when the general consensus is that everyone hates going to your office, and no one views you as a real doctor.
Fuck, I should have seen it! How could I have been so self-centered that I didn’t hear his cry for help? How could I have given my dad grace when he was constantly belittling Jacob and beating up on him?
Speaking of Joel, he’s been a total prick this whole week. Barely speaks to anyone except to pay for things. And he thinks just because it’s his wallet getting tapped into, he getsto make all the decisions. Fuck that. He probably knows as little about Jacob as this priest does.
Quinn and I tried to talk our mother out of doing the whole church thing. Jacob hated all this stuff. But in the end, the funeral is for the living, not the dead. And our mother needed this. She needed all the bells and whistles to make it real.
If anyone is in more denial than me, it’s our mom. With the little energy I have these days, I’ve been taking care of her. She never remarried, so she lives alone, which meant that Quinn and I have been staying with her since last Friday. The first night, when I was lying awake in bed, I heard her crying hysterically in her room. I went in there to check on her and ended up just holding her in her bed, waiting for her to cry herself to sleep. Quinn came in after an hour and joined us. I felt like a kid again, going to sleep in my parents’ room when I had a nightmare. Except this time, the nightmare is real, and my mom can’t be the brave one protecting me.
The funeral wraps up, and I only notice because everyone around me stands to walk out. My mom picks up the urn off of the pedestal full of flowers and turns to walk down the aisle, Quinn and I on each side of her.
Joel and Holly walk behind us. I still can’t believe he brought her and let her sit in the front row with the family. Hell, Denise deserves a spot up there more than she does. But in her defense, she seems very uncomfortable with this whole thing and is probably going to leave him once he’s done grieving. Don’t worry, Holly, that won’t be long.
Once we're at the back of the church, the priest tells us to head down to the reception hall for the meal. Who started that tradition? For most grieving people, the last thing they want to do is eat cold deli sandwiches in a coldchurch basement. At least, that’s how Quinn and I feel. Once our mom is distracted by friends telling her what an amazing person Jacob was, he and I dip out the back door.
The church is attached to our old elementary school, so there’s a playground on the other side of the building. I shrug off my jacket and set it on the pavement. It’s chilly out, but I can’t stand to have that thing on for another second. The last time I wore it was at my grandpa’s funeral. It just reminds me of death and sadness. I might burn it after this.
I didn’t notice that Quinn grabbed a basketball out of a bin by the door on our way out. He tosses it to me, and I shoot it in the hoop a few feet away. We continue this for a while, taking turns shooting and not saying anything to each other. He’s rarely silent, but when he is, I know not to push him.
“Have you talked to that girl again? The one with the dog?”
“No, I actually ended things with her on Saturday.”
He stops mid-shot and puts the ball down between his arm and hip. “What happened? I thought you really liked her?”
“This happened.” I spread my arms wide and gesture to the church.
“I don’t get it.”
“I don’t know. It wasn’t a great way to start off a relationship. Dead brothers aren’t very romantic.”
“Whatever. Good luck getting someone as good-looking as her to go out with you again.”
That actually makes me laugh. “Ouch.”
He smiles back at me and chucks the ball hard at my stomach. Luckily, I catch it, but it still takes a little wind out of me.
“Sadly, I don’t think I’ll get that lucky again.”
“Boys, what are you doing out here? It’s freezing.” We look behind us to find our mom poking her head out of the door. “Please get back inside. There are people asking for you.”
I look to Quinn, hoping he’ll tell her off so we can stay out here, but instead, he shrugs. “We’ll be right there.”
I roll my eyes at him even though I know we should go inside, if not for everyone else, then at least for our mom.
As we talk to everyone there, all I can think about is how exhausted I am. How much I want to go back to my own home and curl up in my bed. As much as I want to be alone right now, having someone to go home with to support me would be comforting. The thought makes my heart ache, knowing I’ll be going back to an empty house.
On our way out, I spot my dad talking with someone I don’t know. I overhear him telling them, “Jacob and I were really close. It’s sad he never found the strength to reach out to me for help.”
I snap. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
