Dad Ch. 01: Last Rites - Iss 01

Dad - Chapter 1 -- Last Rites -- Iss 1

a) Foreword

All people engaged in sexual activities together during the course of this story are over 18.

This story contains descriptions and language associated with sexual activities, but it is a 'romance', rather than a 'stroke story'; if you are seeking one of those, then look elsewhere. So... it is, in essence, a love story... that you may find over-emotional (or, maybe, 'sappy', dependent upon your particular 'bent').

It tells of, and describes, sex acts between family members, so it is also a story about incest.

But this is a Love story. It spans time and generations.

If any of the above are objectionable to you, do not read it!

'Boy' falls in love with 'girl', he grows up, and eventually 'gets-together' with her, and another. Children are produced, who follow the 'family tradition'.

Consensual sex activities occur between family members.

This story is all my own work, written on an idea that I conceived.

If this story resembles any by other authors, it is not by design, and I apologise to those other authors.

Yours,

A.Nessex.Bouy

29^th June 2022

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b) Services.

i. The Church

It was my first funeral. Well, I suppose, to be strictly honest, it was my first since I was six. That was Mum's mother's funeral, but I have no memory of it.

So, I didn't know what was happening now; and I didn't know what was supposed to happen next.

He had made ALL the arrangements, so nobody had been in on any of the planning. All we had to do was follow his instructions, and I hadn't been privy to those.

My personal instructions came from my mother. You know: - get a haircut; polish your shoes; wear your best clothes; wear this tie; look after your Aunt Rose; carry some change for a collection in the church; come on, the car's here -- help get Rose into it; help get Rose out of it, and into the church; sit here.

You have probably been to one; or even more, so you know the general 'drill'.

I sat in the front line of pews, between my Aunt Rose (sobbing continuously, and wiping her eyes and nose -- also continuously) and my 'Ice Queen' mother. I sat, wrapped in the fug that had enveloped me when I had woken up; and I listened as other mourners entered and found seats.

As we sat, and waited, the church organ played some sort of slow dirgey thing. We are not church‑goers, so I have spent little time in churches, and what I have was mainly for the architecture and history, and certainly very little attending services. This organ, along with other church organs that I have heard, sounded out of tune. Either that or the organist was playing notes that weren't in the same key. I cannot understand how people can be 'at peace' in that ... that ... dissonance!

Suddenly we all jumped as a voice seemed to bellow something out of P.A. speakers, that sounded like: -

"I am the refuse and the light... " and continued with other stuff I can't remember. If I've even remembered the opening words correctly -- I was too busy stifling my shock.

The service (i.e. the vicar's voice) continued to be broadcast through the P.A. -- a little too loudly, in my opinion.

The vicar gave a speech about him, all provided by his parents and his brother and sisters, as far as I could tell. There wasn't much that had any meaning for me.

Others read bits from the bible, that presumably had meaning for them, but they had none for me -- much of the ideas seemed to be couched in such esoteric terms that, perhaps because of my state of mind, I just didn't 'get'.

Then it was helping an almost incapacitated Aunt Rose back out to the cars for the twenty-minute drive to the crematorium.

*

ii. The Crem.

Once there, there was a variation of the church service, but at least the electronic organ was in tune.

More lessons, bible readings, and personal anecdotes. It all left me pretty numb, but Mum shed a tear once or twice. Aunt Rose was still pretty inconsolable; and, of course, just ... well ... pretty.

Eventually, as the curtains crawled round their tracks, to conceal the coffin, before it went on to... to... being out of sight, Aunt Rose's sobs got louder and faster, and I muttered "Bye Dad."

Then Mum took Rose and me by the arms and escorted us into position. Me -- because I didn't know what to do; Rose -- probably just to get her up and moving.

Mum, me, Gran and Grandad, and Dad's brother and sisters stood in line, to thank the mourners, and to receive calming and concerned words regarding our welfare. I had no idea who many of the mourners were, but I presumed they were his work colleagues, or golf club cronies.

Once we turned to leave, as the last of the non-family went off to the wake, Rose turned to me, wrapped me in her arms with her head on my chest, and just cried. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders because I wanted to cuddle her, and comfort her; and, as Mum turned away Rose reached up and kissed me on the lips. First as a peck; but then as more than a peck. It is just as well that I was still in the 'fug', because, at any other time, I am sure I would have sprouted an instant hard-on from that.

Then she burst into tears again.

"Oh Andy, Andy, whatever shall we do now? He's gone! He's left me! My favourite brother has left me! How shall I cope? How will you and Rachael cope? He's left us all!"

I really wanted to kiss her some more -- well, make that 'a lot' more, but my erection was now threatening, so I knew that that had best be avoided.

*

c) The Wake

Overall, the Wake turned out to be a success (his golf club did him proud), inasmuch as it turned into a part celebration of his life, not just a memorial of his death.

Gran and Grandad, and his brother and sisters reminded, or told each other -- and many of his old pals -- about Dad's foul-ups and successes as he grew up, and his efforts and effects with what he did for them; or with them; and even against them. There were giggles -- there were guffaws. Mum spent her time with them all, but didn't really ... um ... contribute[?].

His golf cronies told their own tales about Dad's antics in this rough, or that bunker (Dad could never take golf as a 'religion', and picked his partners for their relaxed attitude -- they played it as a game, as in 'play'). They spoke about that 'sweet' drive of his; or that fouled pitch; and their heads were again shaken in disbelief about his hole-in-one at the 18th hole during 'that near hurricane'.

There was enough food for all that wanted it, with very little left.

Rose spent much of her time wrapped in the arms of her mother and father who were in an almost similar tearful state, and her brother and sister - receiving and giving comfort. She spent some time wrapped in my arms again (as we happened to pass each other as we went to, or from the toilets). She squeezed me in her search for comfort, as I fought a mainly losing battle with my erection; and I know that she just had to have felt it pressed against her, but it didn't appear to upset her -- any more than she already was, anyway.

But, in the end, I managed to not disgrace myself.

*

End of Chapter 1