A Funeral in Java

If this was a vacation

It would be quite the vacation

Twelve days in Java

But for a funeral

For a friend

And even friend is…

A complicated word

In this situation

A beach funeral

Because they have those

Did you know that?

They have beach funerals now

Just like beach weddings

Which, you know, you’ve been to a few of those

But the waves sound louder

Here at the beach funeral

Than they have at the weddings you’ve been to

Maybe it’s Java

Maybe the waves are louder here

You cough

And the woman behind you turns around

You think about shooting her a look

But it’s a funeral

People are grieving

People are angry

You can’t get angry

Then again, if you did

You could say it’s because of the grief

Why should the woman in front of you be exempt?

Why is the other person in the situation

Always exempt?

The plane ride home is going to be a nightmare

You flushed your pills down the toilet

In the hotel

It took three flushes
That’s how many pills there were

You knew you would only screwing over Future You

Future You who needs those goddamn pills

To even set FOOT on that plane

But…but but but…

Your mother used to say that

But but but

Why the hell would someone want to be set out to sea

On a beach in a place

She’d never been to before?

Why would anybody want that?

Such an inconvenience to—

Well, pretty much anyone

Who doesn’t already live in Java

Which is, you know, most of the world

You pick at your cuticles

You’re nervous

You’re sweating

Hot would be too kind a word for the kind of weather

You’re experiencing

You desire gum, mints, air freshener

Anything

Your mouth feels dry and moldy

Your eyes are bloodshot

You got no sleep last night

And your sunglasses fell off and cracked

The second you stepped outside the hotel

Your hair is a mess

Your clothes aren’t ironed

Your sense of decorum is non-existent

It’s palpable how much you hate being here

It’s an aura that’s sliding off you

Like skin off a snake

You didn’t wear the proper anything

This, apparently, was a casual beach funeral

Shorts and t-shirts, even some bathing suits

What a send-off, you think

What a way to go

When it’s your turn to go up to the coffin

And touch it

To say your good-bye

Before it’s put on some sort of raft

And sent out into the noisy waves

You can’t seem to set your hand down on the curved wood

You breathe in sharply

As you pull your hand back

And you think—

What’s wrong with me?

I’m not upset

I’m not sad

I’m irritated

I’m frustrated

I’m, you know, whatever

But I’m not sad

But you’re here, aren’t you?

You flew to Java

At a moment’s notice

You still haven’t told your boss

Where you are

You didn’t bring a suitcase

You don’t have the money to be here

You’re going to have to pay for all of this somehow

But you don’t have any idea how that’s going to happen

And you say you’re not affected by any of this, but…

But but but

You’re here

You put your hand down

On the coffin

Feeling activation

As if a door is going to open somewhere

Having recognized the imprint of your palm

And on the other side of that door

Will be her

‘You’re here,’ she’ll say, ‘You came’

And you’ll say ‘Of course I came’

Then she’ll say—

‘Well, you look like shit’

And you’ll laugh

And you’ll hug

And you’ll catch up

And you’ll sit
And you’ll visit

And things will be well

All will be well

And will continue to be well

And your hand will stay pressed

To that coffin

As it buries itself in the sand

And castles spring up

With friends

And family
And those we call Lost

And the waves will get softer and softer

Until the ocean is asleep

And the whole world

Is listening

To what sounds like someone crying