This time last year, the NSW Department of Family and Community Services (in concert with the Fellowship of Australian Writers, NSW) had declared ‘positive ageing‘ to be the theme for their 2018 Seniors Card Short Story Competition. As a FAWNSW member and a card-carrying Senior, I gave it a shot, and the following story made the ‘Top 100’ list and went into their 2018 anthology (available in hard copy from NSW local libraries, or you can download it in pdf from here).
The Upside of Funerals (a short story)
Ignoring Mitch’s quick flinch, Sarah pressed her powdered cheek against his. ‘So sad it’s taken an occasion such as this to see you again.’
It was nice to see that my old friends had stayed true to their roots. Sarah’s makeup had always been immaculate, even in those days of kaftans and sandals. Back then, Mitch’s diatribes on the bullshit pretensions of the socially mobile had been legendary. Today, however, he merely smiled thinly, restraining himself.
They stood in the rose garden of the crematorium grounds, looking at the other mourners as they assembled. Each of the new arrivals tried to disguise their shock as each recognised another here and there, through the veil of years masking their old friends’ faces. There wasn’t to be a funeral ceremony but, after scattering the ashes, there would be a wake in the pub nearby. Later, there’d be plenty of time for them to catch up. Now, greetings were shared guiltily, as if it were disrespectful given the occasion.
Mitch looked like he’d been uncertain what to wear for a non-funeral. Being middle-aged hadn’t stopped him from wearing jeans, but he’d selected his black ones and thrown on a dark brown leather jacket. It looked like the same one I’d clutched as his pillion passenger along icy winter roads when we were young and foolish. I never expected Mitch to make it past twenty, yet there he was, blinking in the sunlight, as if surprised to find himself still here.
Sarah’s ex-husband was wearing a sharp suit, the backs of his trouser legs shiny with wear. Paul had been her high-school sweetheart and their romance survived their university years, only to falter with the arrival of children. By the look of his suit, Paul had come out the worst from their divorce settlement.
It was forty or more years since I’d seen any of them. There was Jack, with his new partner. The thin brittle wife I’d known had been replaced years before. The drunken intimacy of a night best forgotten lay between us. And there was Geoff, his bulk looming even larger, shuffling about, his characteristic gait now age-appropriate. And Lauren, affecting imperturbability as always, intoned the eulogy that I didn’t want to hear. At least Cathy seemed to be enjoying herself. She surveyed the small group, her ice-sharp eyes noting all and her lips curling back with knowing appreciation of the absurdity of it all.
Mitch opened the tightly-sealed urn and tipped it through the thorns onto the petalled rose bed.
The smell was disconcertingly redolent of a barbeque. It made me think of that time we’d piled into the Kombie and headed out to the farmhouse of a friend of someone who none of us knew. We’d sat through the night drinking cheap flagon wine and smoking weed till dawn greyed the magic of the night into ash.
Here, surrounded by manicured lawns, there was something in the way they stood together, thinking about our fragile short lives that made sense of the daily struggle. The sound of soft guitar filtered amongst us. Mitch had tied his hair back, and begun to pick out sad notes on his acoustic guitar. It was good to hear his music again.
When he stopped, there were the sounds of throats being cleared and noses blown.
‘Coming to the pub?’ Paul asked Sarah.
She looked grateful to be asked.
‘You look like you could do with a drop of something,’ Geoff said, giving Lauren a bear hug.
He was probably avoiding commenting on her eulogy but she looked like the embrace was enough.
I watched them begin to leave, some headed to the pub, others back to their busy lives.
My ashes settled into the earth.
They, each a fragment of a once-shared friendship, were now scattering again into the air, swirling together for a moment in configurations of goodbyes, as if reluctant yet pleased in the end to leave.
I could not follow, but it had been good to see them all for one last time.
They each hoped to see one another again, yet not on an occasion such as this.
THE END
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Hope you liked it! And if you’re feeling inspired to write then, the Department of Family and Community Services has recently announced the 2019 theme: ‘Love your Life’. They’re a relentlessly cheerful bunch, aren’t they?)
See https://fawnsw.org.au/seniors-card-short-story-competition-2019/ for further information: Closing date 22 May, 2019.