Two Weeks Later...
Your POV
Being stuck in a cast was the worst thing imaginable. Couldn't do anything without help. Need to get down the stairs? I had to call Myron. I spent the two weeks before my dad's funeral. Putting on my pants was weird. Couldn't necessarily wearing pants with the casts on. I was over the day already. Myron picked me up and I remained silent the entire time.
"You alright?" Myron asked and I just kept quiet. I wasn't in the mood for talking. My dad was gone and my mom was angry with me.
"My bad. That was a stupid question," he said and I just looked out of the window.
"Dad left you a big box. I'll bring it over after the repast," Myron said and I nodded.
"I really just want him to hold me again. He always held me when I was upset and would play with my hair," I mumbled quietly and wiped the tears from my eyes. Myron reached over and grabbed my hand.
We said nothing else for the remainder of the ride. When we got there, my dad's family was there. I didn't like them. They were so money hungry. They thought since my dad was a football player that he had to send the money every single day.
They didn't even believe in him. They doubt him. As soon as he was drafted, they started becoming fake fans and fake supporters. Someone walked up to Myron and I. I said nothing while they talked to Myron. I saw my mom walk into the church with her sister following behind her. Myron and I sat in the front. He sat between our mother and I. She talked to him and avoided any contact with me.
The funeral dragged on and on. People fake crying and I was over it.
"Y/N, would you like to come say some words?" The pastor asked and I shook my head wanting it to be over. I watched as they carried his casket out and I was upset that I couldn't be the one to help. I used my crutches to get to the car as I waited for Myron. I was close to breaking down, but I couldn't.
"You ready?" Myron asked and I nodded. We got in the car and followed behind the hearse. I was upset because my dad always wanted a second line and my mom didn't do it because she didn't like them. She was still being selfish even after he was gone.
"You okay?" Myron asked and I shook my head.
"This isn't what dad wanted. This shit it so gloomy and sad. Where's the band? The umbrellas? We supposed to be second lining for him. Not this wack ass shit. The fucking graveyard is literally right on the corner. He didn't want this boring said shit and momma knows that. She's still being fucking selfish. She could've at least sent him out the way he wanted to be," I said completely angry. I wanted to punch something, but there was nothing to punch. When we got out of the car, you could clearly tell that I was upset. I sat down as they placed my dad's casket on the machine that lowered it into the ground. After they lowered him in, I decided to get an uber home. I didn't feel like being around people anymore. I went home and cried my heart out as I watched old videos of my dad. I drank any and every bottle of liquor I had in my house. I was overly intoxicated. I had down two bottles of whiskey and a bottle of vodka before passing out on my sofa.
Thankfully, Myron didn't come over after the repast like he said he would. I slept for what seemed like days, but it was just for about twelve hours. Myron came over with a huge box from my dad like he had mentioned.
"Bro, were you drinking?" he asked and I groaned.
"Yes," I replied and he shook his head.
"Don't start that shit again," he said sternly and I rolled my eyes. He went to the medicine cabinet and brought me some Advil. He had brought me breakfast like he did every morning since the wreck.
