I sit on the front pew, trying to make sense of it all; staring at the coffins in front of me. Trying to understand. The old cliché, why me, reverberates through my skull. Both my mother and father at once when I'm only 15; He takes them and I'm left here alone. Sure I have extended family I get to live with for the next two years, but I don't want to see their faces, especially right now. They came to this funeral, sad and dressed in black. My aunt stuck her arm around my shoulder, my uncle patted my back. My cousins hugged me. They all urged me to sing at their funeral. But they will never substitute for my parents. They never knew how much we loved to eat breakfast for dinner; how we loved to go out on walks and even go camping. They will never replace my parents, which is why I'm glad I can have these last few minutes with them before they go to the ground.
"God, I don't know why this is happening to me. I want my parents back. You have taken everything I love, and to be honest, I don't know what game you are playing, but I don't want this. Sure, it's Your plan, not a game, but right now, I just don't want to deal. I don't know what to do." I hear footsteps behind me. I look up; it's Antonio, the pastor's son.
"Hey Carmen." I don't reply, but he doesn't take offence. That's what I like about him. When you feel like crap and don't want to see the world, he still comes to help you, even if you treat him badly. "Listen, they need to bury them soon. The funeral director is getting impatient."
"The funeral director didn't just loose both of his parents in an accident. He can wait." He looks up at the coffins, that I'm already staring at.
"Carmen, I know this sucks. I get that it isn't fair. But you have to know that there's a reason for this." I roll my eyes. I hear this ever day in church; I believe it sure, but there should be no reason for my parents to not be with me when I graduate. There is no reason why I shouldn't be here, morning for them. "Ok, yes I know it's cliché, but please just trust me. You trust me right? Even if you feel like you can't trust God right now, please trust me." I look up at Antonio. Yes, I trust him. I trust him more than anything here on this earth.
"Antonio, I trust you." He gets up and offers me his hand. I accept it and we walk out into the rain. My parents always liked the rain, so it's fitting it should be raining today. Several of the men of the church pick up the caskets and follow us to the cemetery. After a couple of words from Antonio's dad, I sing Amazing Grace. The whole time I cling to his hand, never letting go, and tears stream down my cheeks.
5 years later as I say I do, I haven't lost trust; in God or my Antonio.