The Man Who Stopped The World

The next day I woke up early and got dressed for the funeral; I wore a tan skirt, a black shirt, a hat, and sandals because we knew it would be almost 100 degrees outside by the time the funeral was over.  

My Aunt Traci walked over to the coffin and put a Sons of Anarchy and an NRA sticker on it because he loved SOA and guns. They also made sure they had his dog’s ashes with him. Harley had passed a few years before, and Gimpy had asked to be buried with him.    

During the funeral, I couldn’t hear anything. 

Not my grandfather’s eulogy. 

Not my sister’s memorial for Gimpy. 

Not his brother’s recording.  

I only remember hearing my own tears falling from my cheeks and landing softly on my hands. I tried not to cry, but it didn’t matter. That’s the only thing I wanted to do.  

I cried.  

Every time I see something that reminds me of him, I still cry a little, a lump forms in my throat and my eyes water. 

I miss him, but I know that he would want me and my family to stay strong.  He would say “baby girl, stay strong because life goes on and so will you.” 

Bryan Charles Coleman is the man who stopped my world, but he is also the man who made it begin.