Her Funeral

My girlfriend caught me crying over a YouTube video last night. I guess it was a day for crying.

“I listened to this song on repeat for months after Mitra died”

“You never talk about that…”

She’s right, I don’t.

Mitra planned her own funeral before she died. Her parents knew to bury her in Louboutins and play Ac/dc when they lowered her into the ground. At least they had a script to follow in thier grief.

I was late to the funeral. I’d missed the memorial the day before because I was sleeping. Jenny told me most of the pictures were of me and Mitra.

At least I wasn’t high on heroin. It felt disrespectful to show up at a funeral high on the substance that killed thier daughter. After overdosing the day after my Grandma’s funeral earlier that year I knew I couldn’t be trusted with heroin after death.

They gave that piece of shit Brandon a furlough from Federal Prison to attend the death of his ‘girlfriend’. The man that caused her death just as much as the heroin. He was there in shackles crying while her Dad tried not commit homicide in front of federal agents. It upset me to see Brandon cry, not because I cared about his pain, but because he didn’t even fucking know who she was.

I had to meet with detectives after the funeral. I chose a Burger King near my old dealers house so I could score when we were finished. Couldn’t waste a trip to Richmond.

I didn’t even find her body, lying among the baroque furniture stuffed into Brandon’s mansion. But I was the only person she talked to, a fact they must have gathered from looking through her three phones.

I was honest with the detectives, a rarity, but I was scared they thought I had something to do with it. I also didn’t want them to ask me for my license since I didn’t have one. Plus, I needed to get to my dealers house before he sold the last of his heroin.

“So how did Mitra get her money?”

“You have her phones, I’m sure you can figure that out”

“Did you know she was pregnant?”


“Do you know who the father was?”

“No, I don’t think she did either, it might have been mine”

They kept questioning me but I was paranoid from all the Adderall I had to take to get out of bed that morning, so I cut things short.

My girlfriend thought I was crying because attending the funeral was sad.

“No, she was in pain, it was the best thing that could have happened”

Her parents knew this too because they didn’t cry much at the funeral. Dieing was probably the first honest thing she’d done since middle school.

I was crying because I still kind of blame myself. She spent the week prior to her death detoxing at my apartment in Fairfax. I knew she was going to die in Richmond, at Brandon’s house with the Porsche, Range Rover, and syringe caps.

I convinced her to get off heroin and move to DC with me. We looked at two bedroom places in my complex that week. We loved each other but knew we needed space. We were difficult to live with.

I dropped her off in Richmond that weekend so she could tie up loose ends before the move.

Ricky found her three days later. Cold and blue. She’d been dead for almost 48 hours. When her mom called me, looking for her the day before I already knew what had happened. The second call the day of wasn’t really needed.

Mitras was the last funeral I attended. Even though plenty of people have died since. Mostly in the same way.

We should have been clapping at the funeral instead of crying. She finally got what she wanted.