Death always made me weird. It took me eerie places and made me talk funny. Every funeral, I questioned humans and their thoughts . Were they really sad? Were they crying to show people they were sad? Were they not crying because they were too sad, shocked or did not care? Why were they seen absolutely fine like nothing happened the day after? I don’t know , it was very confusing to me .This funeral was too like that. I entered the almost full funeral home to be greeted with the dead girl’s cut out. The smiling girl would make even the coldest heart heavy. It even made mine heavy. The photo was taken just after her graduation a few months ago. Her body spread positive vibes but I knew what she was going through. The poor thing was feeking as if the whole world was on her shoulders. I wished I could travel back and tell her ‘it’s okay. This too shall pass’, be her best friend, holding her hands and patting her head when she had a panic attack. But I was not there for her.
The common things said by the idiot aunties and uncles who never gave her any peace were “She was such a young girl ” “She had a whole life ahead of her ” well.. Yeah! She was going to be twenty three next June and a lawyer next autumn . “She is in a better place right now” I don’t know how possibly anyone can say she was in a better place right now. They couldn’t know that unless they died too. ‘Winter Agnes Langdon’. That was her name. People called her Winny for short and she hated that. Winter itself was a short name and she liked that name. Her sweet innocent name. She wanted to leave a mark on earth like everyone else but she couldn’t. Wondering why? Spoiler Alert- she died. I walked myself to the last bench . It was an open casket as she was not mauled by a lion or was not involved in a freaky accident or the worst- chicken pox. I saw her family in the initial benches. Her step-mom, the blonde devil ‘Marisa Froman-Langdon’ ,who I was sure was plotting to kill her but obviously failed , was faking cry on Winter’s father ,the rich dumb guy. The Langdon kids lived with him since one mom preferred someone dumber and richer and one was on tour always. Next to her father was Rita Grant, the cake entrepreneur ,who left her husband to pursue her dreams, too displayed her grief but it was genuine compared to the blonde devil as she was Winter’s real mother. Winter looked more like her mother with the brown eyes, brownish frizzy hair and freckled skin. At the end sat the twins, Wicker and Waverly Langdon, Winter’s older half siblings. Wicker was still in shock . He was very good and sweet to his baby sister. Waverly was annoyed by the ambiance as she was in grief. Everything annoyed her. She wanted the funeral to be perfect . The food , speeches, even the dresses of the audience and Winter’s dress. She was turning into a nuisance for Winter even after her death. She was nothing like Winter. She was something that came out of a magazine. God! I was jealous .
I saw the police chief dressed in a suit roaming around. He was obviously here to investigate Winter’s murder. Everyone was petrified when they knew Winter’s death. What terrified them most was the way she died. “Impossible ” were the responses. It could easily be ruled out as a suicide but people knew Winter would never take her own life. No one alive knew what happened. Except the killer ,of course. Almost all the family made a speech. First was the step-mom. Attention seeker. She made up a fake story about her bond with Winter and fake cried. “ I will name my next child after Winter.” There were a bit of tears and Aww in the audience. Woman Please. I knew she was on birth control. Next, she will create a story of how she ‘lost the baby’ because of the ‘stress’. Winter’s dad didn’t speak much, he wasn’t that close to her but she did not hate him. He said he wished he had spent more time with her and always be his best daughter. This did not fit well with Waverly. At least I knew whose funeral I will be attending next. Rita did not speak . She regretted going on tours and not attending Winter’s final call as she was busy. She regarded herself as the worst mother of the century. I usually defend people and tell them ‘they are worth it and what they are thinking is wrong’ but she was a crappy mom . She ain’t the worst but she was still crappy. Some people were not meant to be parents. Wicker told a story about how Winter was a fighter growing up and would be fighting the angels for a spot now in heaven. How she used to tattletale to his dad, complaining to their dad about the dirty magazines and other stuff under his bed, how she used to disapprove of the girls he brought home, how she always was a part of the family. It was just the perfect speech . It would have been even better if he hadn’t murdered her. Wicker had been extorting money from all of Langdon’s business partners ever since he was kicked out of the house for substance abuse by his dad. Winter found out one day that he was using again along with the money extortion. She threatened him to stop. He did not apparently. Winter decided to report him to the police. On the way to the police station, she was kidnapped by Wicker. He decided to eliminate the tattletale from the equation permanently. He force fed the poor girl with sleeping pills and left the crime scene. Winter wanted Justice and she will get it. Winter had informed one of her acquaintances to report against Wicker to the police if something happened to her. I was sure he got it. His eyes were completely on Wicker the whole funeral. He did not want to make a huge fuss at the poor girl’s funeral. Let her at least be buried in peace . I decided to leave the funeral after paying my respects to the body of this amazing woman. A little girl who survived a horrific divorce that made her realise that both her parents did not want her. An awkward geeky teenage girl who survived high school with a junkie brother and bullying plastic sister. A pre adult girl who was going through peer pressure in law school . A happy carefree girl with friends who knew she would reach at the top. Little did she know her narcotic psycho brother was going to kill her for some green digits. I saw her wearing a dress of her least favourite colour. Pink. Why pink? Seriously? Doesn’t anyone know her? But truth be told, she looked very beautiful. It was like looking in a mirror. A better mirror . A mirror with flesh and bones. Death always made me weird . Especially when it’s mine. I looked at my killer one last time before I went to the place I was supposed to go. Let him enjoy the last days of freedom. When he gets out of jail, I will be definitely haunting his ass.