The odor of incense is a smell that everyone has probably smelt before. As it spread through the large crowded church, I recalled the last funeral I had been to and realized it had been a long time. For my family, it was a much heavier scent since we were in the front pews closest to the casket. Outside, it was misty, cloudy, and drizzling, which matched the mood inside. The death and funeral of my Grandfather John White was the first time I actually looked at myself in the mirror. .
One moment that I remember very vividly was when I first arrived to the wake. I was a few minutes late because I had to pick up my brother from the train. When I arrived, there were many people already there. There was a quiet sereneness about the atmosphere. Everyone was standing close and whispering as not to be disruptive. As I walked through the crowd of unfamiliar faces, I thought for a minute that I might not be in the right room. I kept thinking to myself as I slid around the room, who are these people. But as I got closer to the front of the room, my doubts about being in the wrong room were put to rest with one of the most distinct memories of my entire life. .
He was lying in a half open coffin. His eyes were closed, and his hands were folded over one another with a pair of rosary beads wrapped around them. I could tell his mouth was wired or clamped shut because his face was narrow, tight, and stern looking. I was not used to not seeing a smile on his face. As I knelt before him I tried to pray to God and talk to my grandfather but I couldn't concentrate. I kept looking at him and waiting for him to move. He didn't. I began to cry. I felt embarrassed and ashamed. I gathered myself, stood up and walked away without looking at him. .
I decided that I should try to meet some of the unfamiliar faces but I didn't feel like it. However, after about a half an hour without meeting anyone, three young women approached me.