Don't own and stuff
The Funeral
About a week had passed since Dean and I had rolled into my parents estate. It was finally time to lay to rest my parents and grandmother. Everyone was dressed in black. My sister and I each took a shovelful of dirt and threw it on the graves. We stood together our hands knotted as if we would die if we let go. It was surreal. It doesn't feel like they are really gone. Tears slide down our cheeks as my arm is slung around her shoulder. Many people came out to see them get put to rest. We head into the house and cover the mirrors. People bring food. It tastes like nothing. We sit shiva for a week. Dean and I don't talk. He leaves us be. It is just my sister and I in our grief. Some days are filled with crying others are filled with silence and emptiness. Dean is a comfort. I rifle through the photographs of our family. I find some of our first trip to Disney world. I show Molly and she smiles through her tears.
"I remember you got lost and we ended up finding you playing poker with the security people." Molly says.
"You threw a bitch fit because you couldn't get a tinker bell water bottle. Mom was not happy." I say.
We roll up a joint and start to take turns hitting it. She passes it to me and I take a big hit. It burns my lungs but it feels good to feel something. Night has fallen and we go outside to the gardens. The stars sparkle in the chilly fall night.
"You are a hunter now? I could never stomach all the violence." Molly says.
"How did you know?" I ask.
"Seriously, Dean Winchester is famous." Molly says.
We talk about the past. About the loved ones we lost. We promise to stay in touch. Family doesn't desert each other. We hug and talk until the sun comes up. I head back to the room I share with Dean. I know things won't be okay. Not for a long time, but maybe, eventually, it might hurt less.