The Funeral

I remember sitting next to my grandmother in the car on the way to my father's funeral. I was asking her about him and where he was. When we got to the church I said to myself, "Oh there he is! But why is he in that box?" When you're three years old you don't understand death. Even after the funeral I kept asking everyone when was my father coming home. When they told me he was gone I thought they meant he was gone to the store or to the mall. Years after I forgot about him. The memories of him didn't resurface until I was nine or ten years old. I thought I was having a nightmare at first, but then I realized I was having flashbacks.