Funerals are for the living

I stand there in my new black dress

tears streaming down my face. 

people I know, some I don't

are filling up the place. 

Some people shake my hand, 

others give a hug, 

I return a small, sad smile, 

giving some a shrug. 

"They're not in pain anymore" 

and people will agree, 

we are the pained ones now, 

that's how it seems to be. 

Do the dead watch us weep

and gather around?

Or is it simply hoping 

there is comfort to be found? 

Maybe they watch over, 

maybe they don't see at all, 

not knowing how big the world truly is

can make us feel so small. 

People cry and people laugh, 

sharing memories of old, 

but the best memories of all, 

are the ones that go untold. 

Special little moments, 

between the departed and their loved, 

knowing they'd be there for you

when push came to shove. 

When all of that is lost 

in an instant and no more

it can bring you to your knees, 

awestruck on the floor. 

Years of laughter lost, 

time wasted with your fights,  

if you could go back, you would

for a few more timeless nights.

So funerals are for the living,

the dead couldn't care less.

That's why I stand there weeping

in my pretty, new, black dress.