Personal Narrative Essay: My First Funeral

I was nine when I went to my first funeral for my stepfather, Johnny. I was the only one out of my siblings to attend because they thought I was mature enough to be all their proxies. Looking back on it, I hadn’t let one tear fall from when I heard the news of his death till I was 16 years old. This fact had haunted me for years. How could I not cry or have a simple reaction to the death of my stepfather of 5 years? A man who stayed up long hours to help with homework, danced with my mother in the kitchen, loved my sister and me as if we were his children. 

In my house, in my mother’s office, stands an urn with a portion of his ashes - the rest were given to other close family members. 

Every May, for his birthday, the whole family gets together to celebrate him by going down to the pier, writing messages on balloons, and sending them up to him. In 2020, the family decided that it was time to fully say goodbye to Johnny by dumping his ashes into the Hudson River by his childhood home. 

As we were walking out of the house to meet everyone by the river, my mother asked me if I could go get the ashes from her office since everyone else would be too emotional. As I was taking the urn off the shelf, I began to cry silently. Though his funeral had happened seven years prior, that moment felt as if I was truly saying goodbye. I had just assumed that he would stay in our home forever because, technically, he was there, so it was a slap in the face when I had to give up the false reality of him still actually being with us. 

At the end of the day, we ended up not going through with the plan because we wanted his daughter, Ianna, to be there with us - she was in North Carolina while we were in New York. 

From this moment, the first thing I felt was relief. Relief at the fact that I was a human with working emotions. After that monumental reaction had settled, I realized that, though we weren’t going through with the plan, I had to finally say my goodbyes. I had to accept that Johnny would always be with us in spirit and move forward in life, not holding onto physical things but spiritual and mental. With this mindset of accepting things and knowing that there is nothing you can change in the past but move forward and say your goodbyes in a positive light, I have grown so much. 

As a child, I thought that being strong translated into not showing any emotions. I would think that having a stone-cold demeanor when I was angry or in pain showed that I was similar to an adult. Now, as an older child, I have learned that showing my true emotions is something that is praised and accepted whole-heartedly. It shows that you care deeply and that you have matured enough to understand the fact that crying doesn’t make you weak. I am glad I learned this so young even if it had to be so late after Johnny’s death.