It was raining. Just like it had done in every cheesy movie Jake had ever seen. The ground was wet and splashed all over his fanciest shoes and slacks. He was soaked, from his head, to every element in his tux. He shifted uncomfortably as the limo waited for him to bring him to the reception. Everyone else had left, but he needed to get something off of his chest.
This was the way it always was, right? The son, alone at his father funeral, standing in the rain above his father freshly buried casket. It was a beautiful tombstone for what it was. A large seamless piece of granite big enough to house a family. It was polished to a brilliant shine. Everything about it was like his father had been in life. Large. Majestic. Intimidating. Cold. Dead.
As Jake clenched his fists, he stared at the large slab of stone that had once been his dad. He wanted to tear it down. He wanted to smash it. He wanted to kick it down and grind the pieces into a dust so fine that no one else would ever need to see it. Anger bubbled inside of him until it was too much to hold in. Climbing upon the base, and with a brutal force he kicked the granite tower causing a burst of pain to reverberate through his leg. He clenched his foot in his hands and cursed the tomb before collapsing on the larger than life words that announced his fathers life to the world.
He couldn't win a fight against a tomb. He had never won a fight against his father in his life, and he certainly wouldn't win any in his death. With a quivering sigh, a burst of anger and sadness overcame him and he whispered the last words he would ever say to the man.
“I hate you so much.”
He stood up. Wiped the wet off of his slacks as best as he could, and walked over to the limo. Giving one final look up at the tombstone, he spit on the ground, and vowed never to return.