Personal Narrative: A Day At The Funeral Home

It was September 2 of 2015, the air was just a little chilly, and, for once, I was glad I was wearing my grey sweater. I stood outside of my mother’s Yukon waiting for my brothers to pile in the back. When they finally did, my mother drove us to the funeral home. The drive was long and quiet, it was as if someone had grabbed a television remote and muted us, so I decided I would listen to music to drown out the silence. Finally, we arrived at the funeral home, and it just so happened that we were one of the first ones there, along with my grandparents and uncle. My grandma and I headed inside while my other family members started small talk out in the parking lot. Once inside, I immediately took my seat where I avoided looking at