To Crash a Funeral

Summary: Arella didn't have any family. The front row should stand empty at the funeral. So who the hell is that?

Note: I always wondered how this would go down. He He He. Again, Mother/Daughter relationship at its best! I still wonder why there aren't any more Arella/Raven stories, seriously it's super fun to write!

Note: I didn't know which name to use Arella or Angela, but I went with Angela since that's an actual name. Arella sounds weird to me. Also the other names used here are the cast and crew of the Teen Titans animated series and are not meant as anything other than placeholders.

Note: I am NOT trying to convert anyone! There are just a lot of Christian undertones in the story. If it bothers you that much… Then… Stop reading.

Note: I didn't write this specifically for Mother's Day, but it kind of turned out that way, so Happy Mother's Day! (:

I stepped through the doors to the church quickly. It was raining hard making the somber feeling in the air that much more pronounced. A young boy I recognized as one of the Sunday School kids greeted me at the entrance and solemnly handed over a program. Many churchgoers were milling about talking softly within their own circles. A large sedan pulled up behind me, another family piling out of the car rushing through the puddles, as the husband drove away presumably to look for parking. Pushing farther within the crowd I took the time to squeeze over to the receptionist table and drop off my card of sympathy. Walking further into the small church I took a modest seat in the middle of the crowd and read over the program as I waited for the service to start.

.In Loving Memory of.

Angela Roth

September 11, 1961 – May 1, 2011

Sunday May 8, 2011 10:00AM

Jump City First Baptist Church

3421 Old Oak Road, Jump City

Underneath her birthday and the date of her passing, was a beautiful picture of the Angela I knew. Violet hair graying despite her age with wrinkles surrounding her smile and twinkling eyes. My eyes watered at the sight of a good friend I would never see again. Fishing for some tissue in my purse I hastily pulled some out to dab at the tears. I couldn't believe I was sitting here reading the words on the program. It had only been a few weeks ago that I was chatting with her about the newest restaurant that had opened up down the street. To think that was the last time I would be able to have a conversation with her… My vision blurred as tears spilled forth again. I checked my watch. 9:50. Still ten minutes to go and there were still people coming through the doors, their dripping umbrellas and damp coats leaving water everywhere. I opened the program gingerly, careful not to get it wet, a part of me wondering whether I'd want to see the words written inside.

.Worship Service for.

Angela Roth

September 11, 1961 – May 1, 2011

.Words of Greeting.

Reverend Glen Murakami

.Opening Prayer.

.Personal History.

Virginia Madsen

.Hymnal.

"Amazing Grace"

.Personal Remembrances.

David Slack

Sander Schwartz

A rustling from the crowd shook away my thoughts and I craned my neck around the man in front of me to see what was going on. Reverend Murakami was shuffling up to the podium. The whispers slowly died among the crowd, only the occasional sniffle could be heard in the silence. I stood up a little straighter and listened intently to what he would say.

"We have come here today to celebrate the life of Angela Roth. I would like to take the time to tell the story of Lazarus, who believed in God, and in doing so never died. For Jesus came to him and resurrected him so that others may know the miracles of God…"

His words trailed off as my mind became occupied with memories of Angela. Such a quiet lady, always there to help in the church's annual fundraiser and the events that went on within the community. She never had a bad word to say to anyone, was gently stern with the young ones, and always had a word of advice for those who had problems. I just couldn't believe she was gone. It was finally hitting me, knowing that life was limited, that we could all die tomorrow. I should have visited my parents at the retirement house because they could die within the next few hours, or days, or weeks. I scanned the rows and rows of heads. The vast majority were regular churchgoers such as myself, many I recognized from years of seeing their faces every Sunday morning. I glanced down to read the rest of the program.

.Closing Prayer.

Tara Strong

.Benediction.

Reverend Glen Murakami

.Community Remembrances.

.Final Tribute.

.Postlude.

Video Remembrance

Burial Service will be held on May 9, 2011 at 11:00AM

Gentle Green Park Cemetery 543 W. Main St., Jump City

The one thing that bothered me was the front row… It was empty. Everyone knew Angela didn't have any family, so it was understood the front row, usually reserved for husband, children, parents perhaps, and any other immediate family was empty. At first it was strange when Angela first started coming to JCFBC by herself and people would politely inquire about her husband or kids. She just shook her head and said she didn't have any. One time I gathered the courage to ask her if she had never married, or maybe her husband had passed away, she had been a member of the church for about a year now and I felt close enough as a friend to ask. She just smiled sweetly and said she had married someone when she was young, someone she married on a whim, a foolish choice made by a foolish young girl. She went on to say she had divorced him once he started abusing her.

I didn't say anything when she told me this. With that gentle smile and sweet face, I wondered who could have the heart to do that to her? "But it's alright. I have the strength of Jesus with me now…" She had said when the worried look on my face wouldn't go away. I didn't push for any more information, I thought, maybe one day she would just tell me herself. Poor girl, I had no idea she had come from such a hard background, but I was glad she had found Jesus as he would help guide her through this turbulent time in her life.

"…And so if we could all bow our heads in prayer. The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures, he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul, he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of death, I fear no evil, for thou art with me…"

We finished off the passage with a resounding Amen. Tears prickled behind my eyes. I grabbed another tissue from my purse, careful not to make too much noise blowing my nose. Reverend Murakami stepped down from the podium, gesturing for a young woman in the second row to stand up. Legs shaky she nodded passing the packet of tissue she had been clenching the life out of to her husband next to her. The woman was wearing a long black dress with a fashionable scarf wrapped around her creamy shoulders. Her hair was down, soft blonde curls cascading down her back.

I recognized her instantly.

"Hello… My name is Virginia Madsen… (sniff) Angie was born here in Jump City. She attended DC High School but dropped out near the end of her senior year to join a popular gang in the area. It was during that time she met and married her husband who she soon divorced realizing it was a mistake. Angie lived alone for a while, moving to Gotham City in the summer of 1980 to get away from her past. (sniff) Only living in Gotham for a few months she decided she didn't like it there and again moved, this time to Azarath. She worked as a secretary for Azar Corporations for nearly twenty years before moving back to Jump City. After attending one of our sermons, she accepted Jesus as her savior and has graced us with her kindness for eleven years. Angie didn't have any children or known relatives and never remarried. On May 1, 2011 (sniff) surrounded by friends, Angie passed away peacefully in her sleep."

Virginia burst into tears after reading the last line. I was crying too. I wasn't that close to Angela that I was invited to watch over her on her deathbed, and even if I was invited, I don't think I would have had it in me to attend. She knew Angela through her kids. Apparently her oldest son was an employee at Azar Corporations and although he had glimpsed Angela once in a while, they hadn't known each other until Angela moved back to Jump and met Virginia. What a small world.

Revered Murakami stepped back up to the podium, "If we could all sing… Amazing grace how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost but now and found, was blind but now I see. Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, and grace my fears relieved. How precious did that grace appear the hour I first believed. Through many dangers toils and snares, we have already come. Twas grace…"

I dabbed at wetness forming at my eyes again. I had always hated that hymn. It was so sad, always pulling at my heartstrings, never had I heard or sung it that I wasn't left with dry eyes. It was fitting that we should sing it at Angela's funeral… I wondered how Angela's ex-husband would take to hearing the news that Angela was dead. Virginia hadn't said anything about abuse, and it was probably for the best, but still. No matter which way you sliced it, Angela and her ex-husband were married at some point, he couldn't be that heartless to not care what happened to his ex-wife… At least I hoped. She had many good friends at the church, everyone loved her, there was no doubt in that, but I would've liked to know that someone other than the old church ladies would be opening my sympathy card.

Who paid for the funeral anyway? It wasn't the most respectful thing to think about at a time like this, but it bothered me a little. She had no heirs, no relatives, not even parents that the church could contact. I wasn't even sure if she had a will. Some of the gossip mongers had speculated that the church was doing it as sort of a public service, and any money in the sympathy cards was going straight to the church as compensation. Well, that was nice of them, I suppose.

A tall man in a crisp business suit took the stand next. I didn't recognize him from the church. There was a fleeting thought that maybe he was a long lost relative, step-son maybe? He could be a nephew. But if he was related shouldn't he sit in the front row? Maybe he didn't want to since he didn't know Angela very well… or he didn't know Christian customs. I'm sure I wasn't the only one who was wondering who he was, whispers rose up among the crowd, slowly and stealthily.

"Good morning my name is David Slack. I'm a good friend of Angela's. I met her at a quaint little coffee shop on the corner of Fifth and Cherry, it's a McDonald's now, but back when it was just a coffee shop, I would go down there every other day… And one day the shop was so busy I had to sit at the counter, and there was Angela. I didn't know her then, she was just some stranger, but she talked to me like she had known me her whole life. My first thought of her was, 'This woman's creeping me out' (laughs) But that's just the way she was you know? She'd talk to you like you were some old friend she hadn't seen in years. I started seeing her every time I went to the coffee shop. We'd talk, she'd tell me about her day, the blankets she was knitting for the kids at church, or some project she had going on for the church fundraiser.

But the thing I remember most about her was how she was accepting. You see, I used to be in a bad crowd when I went to college, and my sister was killed by a rival gangster. So I was taking care of her daughter and when I told Angela about it, she just smiled and said she understood. And no one's ever done that before… Even counselors that I saw over the years, they would always have some flicker of disgust on their faces when I said I used to be in a gang… But not Angela. She helped me when my niece gave me problems, when she was growing up and I didn't know how to handle a five year old… (laughs) She gave me advice when I had to show up at the school for Career Day…

Anyways, that's what I'll always remember about Angela. She was always so understanding. She never hesitated to give a word of advice… (sniff) I'm going to miss her. Thank you."

By now the majority of the crowd was crying. Including myself. I wish I had gotten to know Angela more. I'll always regret not getting to know her… I can't believe she died so young. She was barely fifty… No one knew of any illness she was suffering from, quite the opposite in fact, people always commented on her good health. So much for longevity.

Another figure took hold of the microphone.

"I'm Sander, and most of you might know me as the coach from DC High's boy's wrestling team. Well, as most of you know, my mother passed away recently—God bless her soul—and there was a big fiasco between me and my brother over our mother's will. (laughs)

I was just talking to Angie one day about all the stress we went through as a family, and how my relationship with my brother was taking a toll and I wasn't sure if we would ever reconcile. And well, you all know what a frail looking woman she was, but she just had this voice, and whenever she used it you were just forced to listen. I'll admit I was skeptical at first, you know, what did she know about family? But I was wrong. I'll always remember what she said to me, she said, 'Sander, I know you're angry with your brother right now, but no matter what happens, he's still your brother, and you'll regret losing him over something so petty. Don't lose him because he's family and family should always take care of each other.'

And I was stunned, you know, because Angie doesn't exactly have any family herself, but she was right. She was the only one to say that to my face, and I was just too blinded by anger to see what the real issue was. I'll never forget what she said to me… (turns toward the casket) I'll miss you, Angie."

It was a wonder to hear that come out of Sander's mouth. Everyone knew he was a little gruff around the edges, and I'm fairly sure the whole city knew about the "fiasco" between him and his brother. What surprised me was what Angela had said to the man. Had she really said those things? I knew she was an intelligent woman, sensitive, caring, kind… But boy did she really have a way with words! To be able to tame a big brute like Sander was a big deal. Much less have him sit still long enough for him to listen to you. It seemed like I was learning more about Angela at her funeral than when she was alive…

A young woman took to the podium next, "This was Ms. Roth's favorite hymn. She always liked to hear us say it during Sunday School…"

The words that came next were so familiar, I wondered why Angela would choose this particular hymn as her favorite. Well who knew? It was too late to ask her. I joined in the chorus of voices as soon as the first words left the girl's mouth.

"Our Father, which art in heaven hallowed be thy name. Thy Kingdom come they will be done in earth as it is in heaven. Give us our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them that trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil for thine is the kingdom, the power, the glory, for ever and ever. Amen"

As the girl sat back down and Reverend Murakami stood to deliver final words of grace, the doors in the back of the room opened sending a rush of cold air into the sanctuary. Everyone's head turned to see who was showing up when the service was practically over already.

A figure stood on the threshold, a long black coat sending droplets of rain water onto the carpet beneath their feet. The coat was mostly buttoned up but I caught a glimpse of soaked jeans and sneakers underneath the fabric. They were wearing a black sweater with the hood pulled up completely obscuring their face. My first thought was of panic and then fear. Sure they were dressed in black, as per a funeral, but jeans? Sneakers? Sweatshirt? With the hood up no less! What kind of disrespecting person was this? My eyes narrowed as they walked calmly into the silence, like Moses parting the Red Sea, all eyes were on the stranger. Maybe I shouldn't have been so harsh, maybe they were lost? Maybe they didn't know a funeral was taking place… No, that's impossible, even a blind man could tell a funeral was taking place! There were people outside taking cards and giving out programs, there's absolutely no way someone could walk in and not know there was a funeral going on.

Alright, perhaps they knew Angela somehow and came late to pay their respects—kind of a sad way to show it—but they came nonetheless. All eyes were on this stranger, passing the back row, the next row, next row, next row, next row… The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Why weren't they stopping? There weren't any more open seats left this far up… Another row, and another, I watched intently as the figure calmly strolled past my row, leaving a faint trail of dripping water in their wake. Even Reverend Murakami was watching, the words of benediction caught in his throat. Something in the back of my mind screamed for this person to stop. What were they doing? Did they know what they were doing? A prickling feeling struck me… A sense of foreboding… There was only one row open… The front row.

Don't tell me this stranger intended to sit there? They were past the fourth row now, third row, second row… I could hear Virginia's small gasp as the figure strolled past her enthralled eyes to sit in the chair in front of her. In front of her. In the front row. As they settled into the chair closet to the casket, the one reserved for direct immediate family, even I couldn't hold back the small burst of air that I had been holding.

The Reverend stumbled on his words, "N-Now God himself and our Father, and our Lord Jesus Christ, direct our way unto you. And the Lord make you to increase and abound in love one toward another and toward all men even as we do toward you. To the end he may establish your heart…"

No one was really listening. All eyes were glued to this stranger who hadn't moved since they had sat down, slowly dripping rain water on a once dry chair. It didn't matter who this person was, how disrespectful! A good friend perhaps? But even good friends wouldn't show up to a best friend's funeral so late. Maybe they were caught in traffic? Or their plane was delayed? No, still, that was no excuse for the ridiculous state of dress. Yes, I knew it was raining, but even a soaking wet blouse and skirt were better than bone dry sweatshirt and jeans. Alright, maybe I was going about it the wrong way. Maybe Angela was wrong when she said she didn't know her parents, maybe she didn't know she had relatives, but they knew her. And one of them found out their long lost whatever was dead and came to say goodbye. That's plausible. But if that were me, I wouldn't bother showing up at all. Angela obviously didn't know the person. Their presence here would be the same as seeing a stranger come in off the street. Nothing more than that. So why was this bothering me so much?

Who the hell was this person?

Reverend Murakami coughed once. No one moved. He coughed again, this time a little louder, "Ah… er… At this time, I would like to ask if anyone from the community would like to share any personal memories of Angela. Please feel free to come up to the podium…"

He backed away, leaving the stand open for anyone to say any final words. I considered going up there just so I could get a better glimpse of the stranger's face. I wasn't that close a friend to Angela, but I had a few good memories of her. No one moved. The sniffling had stopped and the whispers were in full swing. It looked like people had the same question on their minds as I did… And it involved a certain somebody.

The prickling sensations filled me again. Something bad was going to happen. I had a fleeting thought of the stranger turning around and pulling a gun out of their coat, brandishing it at us and firing shots into the panicked crowd… I shuddered.

"Well, if no one has anything to say, we'll sta—" The stranger stood abruptly effectively cutting off whatever else the Reverend had to say. A collective gasp could be heard reverberating from the crowd. The stranger was going to speak? What would they say? A thought slammed into me, what if this was Angela's mysterious ex-husband? Would he slander her good name in front of her friends? In a church of God? No… Someone had to stop him, if that's what he was going to do. I willed my legs to stand, to stop this madness, but they wouldn't move. I was too frightened, rooted to the spot, I could act only as a witness to the events that would unfold around me.

As the figure stood, they pulled back the hood covering their face.

My body inched forward, as I'm sure everyone else's did too, because none of us could believe our eyes.

Violet hair.

Impossible! Could they be… Could they be Angela's kid? No way. There has to be another explanation, a step-kid, niece, nephew, cousin, anything—the stranger reached the podium (Reverend Murakami swiftly backing away like he'd seen a ghost) and turned.

Those eyes.

There was no mistaking it. If I had any doubt about blood relation it was gone. She was stunningly beautiful in a rain drenched coat and jeans. Violet hair the same shade as Angela's, hung past her shoulders disappearing into her sweater, eyes just like Angela's, she could have been a younger version of the woman. Except her mouth, unlike the smiling face on the front of the program, her lips were pulled into a thin line, her expression showing none of the sadness or remorse one would expect from a relative of the deceased.

"Hi."

Her voice was smooth like silk. Instantly calming my nerves but a second later the panic came back twice as hard. But there was a underlying edginess to her voice, like she was used to throwing around profanities rather than eulogies. This was getting ridiculous! And who says "Hi" as their opening line in a eulogy? Dammit, who the hell was this person?

"My name is Rachel… (hesitant pause) I wasn't going to come today, but…"

Well if you weren't going to come, you shouldn't have shown up and gave us all a heart attack!

"I don't know why I decided to at the last minute…"

She drifted off, her eyes betraying a flicker of sadness, despite her nonchalant body language. Whoever Angela had been to this woman, it was deep and profound.

"I… I hated Angela for all the crap she put me through. I know now what she did was out of necessity. But I hated her… I think I still do, to an extent."

She hated her? She hated Angela, why? What had Angela done to this woman? She looked to be in no more than mid to late twenties. What did she know about hatred? What was this "crap" that Angela made her go through? Was it really that bad? Could Angela have possibly …abused her? No, no, no… Sweet, kind, gentle Angela would never do that to someone. If this girl was indeed a blood relative of Angela's, how did she find out about her? Why didn't she find her sooner? Was Angela lying when she said she had no relatives? Or maybe she meant that figuratively, as in, "yeah I don't have a stupid little brother, he's just some annoying kid that lives with us." There were so many questions surrounding this woman's circumstances. First, she shows up late to a funeral dressed like she's going out jogging. Second, she proclaims to be immediate family to Angela and no one will deny it after seeing her face. And third, she's accusing Angela of—I'm assuming—horrific deeds, horrible enough to warrant some sort of long lasting grudge against her!

The woman—Rachel—paused, glanced down at her sneakers and the feet-sized puddle she was making on the carpet. To anyone not paying attention, it would seem as if she was done with her little speech, but she was tense. Very tense. Like she wanted to say something, but it wouldn't come out. Uncertainty flashed across her face and she grimaced, not used to showing weakness in front of others. If she were to take her hands out of her coat pockets I was sure they'd be shaking. She definitely wasn't sad… Of course she wouldn't be considering she had just admitted to hating the woman. She wasn't showing any signs of overwhelming guilt… And why should she be? She didn't kill Angela, she had died in her sleep. She didn't look angry… Sometimes close relatives become angry when a loved one leaves them.

She looked nervous.

Apprehensive.

I knew the words that she would say next would be the ones that she had been wanting to say for a lifetime. The ones she had bottled up inside for so long, and only in an extreme circumstance such as this would they have ever been said.

"And I… (hesitant pause) I guess I just wanted to say the words she always wanted to hear but I never said…

I love you, mom."