Page 57 of Eros
The time had finally come. My father’s funeral. A day I dreaded, but a day when it was over, I would finally be able to breathe again, closing this terrible chapter of my life.
The bells of the Church of St. Teresa of Ávila tolled, echoing across the city like it signaled the collective mourning of everyone. Although my father was Catholic, he hadn’t practiced in a long time. We only went to Mass if it provided him with some type of photo op.
After his death, I realized a lot of the things we did as a family had been for photo ops. Another way to further his career. Anyway, I had debated whether to have his funeral on consecrated grounds, or just have him cremated in a private service, but the Governor convinced me this would be best for the city.
We were still trying to keep up appearances, apparently.
While my father’s death had been marred in controversy as Eros and Savage Order had tied him to one of the most dangerous cartels in Mexico, he was still the Lt. Governor of California at the time of his death which required a dignitaries’ funeral according to the Governor. Not something me or my brother wanted because we were both tired of all the cameras and questions surrounding his death. However, we reluctantly agreed to it in order to help the city move past this.
The overcast sky, a soft gray blanket of clouds, draped over the spires of the gothic style church, that was founded in the early days before California was even a state. A relic left over from when the Spanish controlled the land.
Outside, uniformed officers as well as uniformed firefighters lined the massive stone steps in silent formation, their white gloves folded over ceremonial swords. Flags had been ordered by the Governor to fly half-staff. An honor he didn’t deserve, but the Governor believed we needed to, so people didn’t ask questions.
I was surprised that after I told him about my father, he still wanted to do all this for him. But maybe it also benefited him to maintain appearances for whatever reason. Either way, I just went along with it even if I felt it was wrong to honor such a man.
My brother, me, and Eros slowly climbed the steps after my father’s body had been carried inside hours earlier. I was in awe at the vaulted ceilings soaring above rows of pews filled with dignitaries, clergy, and regular citizens when we entered.
“All this for a man like him,” I mumbled to myself. “He doesn’t even deserve all of this.”
Eros’s didn’t say anything, he just squeezed my hand, letting me know he understood, and he was here for me.
The air was thick with incense and somberness. At the front, the solid cherry wood casket, draped in the state flag and a ceremonial sash, sat beneath a towering crucifix. Sitting to theright was a picture of my father, his smile wide and bright, and tons of flowers from roses to white lilies surrounded the casket.
We took our seats, then the funeral service began with the introductory rites, led by a bishop in full vestments. His steady voice sounded through the sanctuary as he welcomed the congregation. Then a choir sangThe Lord’s Prayer, their angelic voices echoing through the sanctuary.
A tear slipped from my eye, and I quickly wiped it away. I had cried enough over this man. This was all for show. I’d made my peace with the decision.
Eros wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer to him, and I laid my head on his shoulder. So many emotions swirled inside me. From hate for the man that he became to devastation for the father we lost. Eros had been instrumental in helping me let go of the guilt because in order for me to live, he needed to die.
The rest of the service went by in a blur. While I sat on the front pew, I was a million miles away. I could only focus on the things he had done to me and my mother, not the man they were trying to portray him as. He tore our family apart for power. Our family had been nothing but a façade. Something built by a man to portray to the world that he was a family man trying to do right by the citizens of California. When in fact he was a liar. A manipulator. A coward.
The Governor stood at the podium and opened his speech portfolio. He had played his part very well as he talked about what a great man my father was during his eulogy. How he was dedicated to his family and the people of California. All bullshit, of course. The lies made me nauseated, but I didn’t say anything. I sat like the grieving daughter that the world needed me to be.
After the Governor took his seat, the priest offered a last prayer, asking for peace and eternal rest for my father. Rest and peace he didn’t deserve. Rest and peace I hoped he’d never get.Then the priest moved to my father’s casket as a beautiful hymn was sung, incensed the casket.
“It’s almost over,” Eros whispered in my ear.
“Thank God. I’m so ready for this charade to be done.”
He smiled, then kissed my forehead before our attention moved back to the rest of service.
“Into your hands, Father of mercies,”the priest prayed,“we commend our brother Roger Thorne in the certain hope that together with all who have died in Christ, he will rise with him on the last day. Amen.
I couldn’t even muster the energy or the want to pray for him. This day had already been too long. I was ready to close this chapter of my life.
As the choir sang again, uniformed officers moved my father’s casket from the dais, then down the aisle. My brother, me, and Eros followed, as his casket was escorted out of the cathedral. Both me and my brother agreed to limit the spectacle of a public burial, so his ashes will be stored at the memorial park after cremation.
Outside, a military band playedAmazing Grace.Then, a 21-gun salute broke the silence, followed by the emotional echo ofTaps. As the casket was placed inside the hearse, I looked at my brother, who had put on a brave face, but I could see how heartbroken he truly was. He idolized our father even though he didn’t like my brother’s carefree lifestyle. He believed he should be more like him. Thank God he wasn’t.
The motorcade departed, we watched as it disappeared heading to the funeral home so my father’s remains could be cremated.
“I’m not going,” my brother said, staring at the hearse as it slowly drove past citizens who wanted to pay their respects but couldn’t get inside the cathedral. Some held candles, others were in tears.
“Brent.” I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’m tired of handling everything by myself. You should be there. You might regret it later.”
He was shaking his head before he even looked at me. “I can’t,” he said, with tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry, sis.”
He kissed me on the cheek, then jogged down the steps.
