I heard my parents talking about a funeral for James today. They were discussing where to have it.
They were in their bedroom, with the door closed. I could hear them talking when I woke up, and when I got up to go to the bathroom, I heard my dad say "James" clearly. Then I heard my mom shush him, and they went silent. My mom heard me walk by.
I went to the bathroom, then I carefully opened the door so it wouldn't make noise and walked up to the bedroom door so I could listen. I heard them name three funeral homes nearby, and I heard my mom ask if there should be a wake.
I went back to my room before I heard any more. If I had heard anything else, I would have walked in and told them that James was still alive. They would really think I was crazy.
You have no idea of the feeling I had when I got back to my room. It was just a hopeless, desperate feeling in my gut, weighing me down, making me feel as if I couldn't do anything. And if I could do anything, it would be wrong. After all, if I told my parents what had happened to me, even if I showed them the papers, the journal, the shirts, the cloth, they would still think I was crazy. I know they think I'm still affected in some way. I am, in a way.
What do I do? They're going to have a funeral for James.