I didn't much like the church service. Deacon Gamboa is nice and everything, but he kept talking to us like we had no idea what mass is all about. "We say 'Amen' because..." Then he'd make us repeat it. Pissed me off. I let Prophet go to the Forest instead. Talked to Marco a little bit and got the wits almost scared right outta me, but that's a different story.

At Valley Memorial Gardens, I lingered in the crowd and watched as Me�o's family wept. It made me feel very sad, but I couldn't cry. The tears just wouldn't come. And that's just as well. Towards the end, they called up the friends and family to come and throw a fistful of sand on the coffin. My dad hesitated, but I made him go. I knew he wanted to, and Me�o would've wanted him to also. Seeing my father in such pain almost did make me cry, but I forced it all away. I just put an arm around him and squeezed. So what if he wasn't the best father to my sis and I? He was a man in pain, and I was not gonna be an ass. And I DO love him, despite myself.

When they began to lower the coffin, I gulped. I hate this part most of all. When the women start screaming and mothers throw themselves towards the grave... I stood there alone and watched. There goes one of the few men I've ever respected. Yeah, he was a coke addict, and yeah, he was also alcoholic, but he had good morals. He was a good guy. I watched his little boy bury his head in his thin arms in an attempt to hide his tears. But his back heaved and shook, and gave him away. I never saw that boy shed a single drop throughout the entire ceremony, but this is always the breaking point. And after all, he's only around nine or ten years old. He was always with his dad. Me�o loved him very much. When the boy finally looked up, his face was wet, but he was no longer crying. Tough kid.

I took the opportunity that we were there for Me�o's funeral to go visit Marco after the ceremony. His family already got him a headstone/grave marker thing up. Black marble. Very nice. He woulda liked that, as he was so into that color.

Dud called when we were driving home from the cementary. I'm driving down La Vista and the cell phone rings. I answer, and I know it's her. I mean, who else would call me on the cell? I told Maria not to call me for any reason until AT LEAST Wednesday. I need to be alone and get a grip on myself when these things happen, see. So I know it's Rosa Isela when I answer.

"Hey Piojo - soy yo!"

"Dud!"

"Oye, donde estan?" she asks at the same time I answer: "I'm driving Blinkey; I'm on my way home. Ya vamos a llegar."

"Pasame a Mami," she says, and I do. I don't like talking on the phone while I'm in the car anyway. So the phone goes to Mom.

About five minutes into the conversation, the line goes dead... again. The connection is really bad from here to Kuwait. We're almost home anyway, and when we get there, the cell rings again. I answer (again).

"Ya llegaron a la casa?"

"Yeah, we're home."

"OK, let me call you back."

She means call me back on the cordless phone. Somehow, the connection to that is clearer. We hang up and after a few minutes, my mom walks into the dining room where I am.

"Va a hablar?" she asks.

"Yeah."

But the minutes tick by and the phone never rings. Either she couldn't get through, or she got distracted. Both are pretty good probabilities. She told my mom in the car that she was gonna call us last night but ended up watching 'The Exorcist' instead. Go figure. Oh well. News to her of Me�o's death will have to wait. Maybe it's better that way.

I'm a lot calmer about the whole thing now. So's my dad. He's sad, but he'll be OK. I know that now. I just hope he doesn't use this as an excuse to get drunk off his ass... again. I know he will at least smoke a few, though he knows it's bad for him. But right now I couldn't really blame him. I could sure use a smoke myself. It relaxes me. That, and fire. But I already ran out of papers to burn. I finished all my supply on Sunday. Damn.