They Paid Me $500 an Hour to Make People Cry at Funerals

It started when I was a child. The crying was never on purpose, and it would only happen at funerals. My mother would take me to see her parents, my paternal grandparents, a few times a week. When I was six or seven years old, my brother was three, and my sister was two. My parents had decided to divide childcare responsibilities to make life easier, so I would go to my grandparents’ house one day and they would come to our house the next. It was during one of my visits that something strange happened. My grandmother was lying in bed, very sick and in pain. I didn’t understand what was happening but she was clearly suffering. After a few days, she passed away. My grandfather was devastated. I saw the look of pain in his eyes, but I didn’t understand what it was. My brother and sister had no idea what was happening and just thought it was playtime. My grandfather would hold them and cry. When it was my turn, I sat with him and cried too, but I had no idea why. When we got home, my parents asked me if I wanted to go back to my grandparents house for a while. I was glad to stay with them for a bit. My brother and sister were also welcome, but they didn’t care. They were too young to remember what had happened and didn’t care about their grandfather. My grandparents lived in a beautiful house on the beach. There were big rooms and long hallways, and the smell of the ocean was everywhere. After a few weeks, my grandfather asked if I wanted to help him prepare for my grandmother’s funeral. I thought it was a strange task, but I was eager to help. I didn’t know what to expect but I was happy to be spending more time with him. We went into her room. Everything was the same as it was the day she passed away, except for her bed. It was empty, and the sheets were clean. There was a box of tissues on the side table. I had no idea what to make of it. “Okay,” he said. “Your job is to make people cry at the funeral.” I didn’t reply. I just looked at him in silence. “What do you mean?” I asked. “You will go around the room and cry at everything,” he replied. I didn’t understand. “Why?” I asked. “You are very sad,” he said. I looked around the room. “Where should I start?” I asked. He pointed to a dresser. “Start there.” I walked over to the dresser and looked at the photos on top. There were a few of my parents, and some of my grandparents with other people. There were some of me, my brother, and my sister as children. There was one of my grandmother with a little girl who I didn’t recognise. I picked up the photo of the little girl. “Who is this?” I asked. My grandfather came closer. “That is your mother as a little girl. And that is your aunt.” I looked at the photo more closely. I didn’t remember my aunt. My grandparents never spoke of her. He picked up another photo. “This is my mother and father with their children and grandchildren. Your mother and aunt are in this photo.” I looked at the photo. I couldn’t see them. “Where are they?” He pointed them out. “Your mother is here, and your aunt is here.” I put the photo down. “What happened to my aunt?” He looked at me sadly. “She is gone.” I didn’t reply. “Your job is to make people cry at the funeral,” he said. “We can’t let them forget.” I didn’t reply. I just picked up another photo. My grandfather started crying. I cried too. I cried for him, for my grandmother, for my aunt, and for my grandfather. I didn’t know what was happening or why it was happening, but I didn’t care. I was happy to be there for him. A few minutes later, one of the servants came into the room. “What is wrong?” he asked. My grandfather was still crying. “I am sorry,” he said. “I can’t control myself.” The servant approached me. “What happened to her?” he asked. I looked at my grandfather. He nodded. “She is gone,” I replied. “I don’t know what happened to her. I don’t think anyone does.” The servant cried too. “She was a good person,” he said. “No one could have done anything else. We will miss her.” After a while, my grandfather asked me if I was tired. I nodded, and he said it was time for bed. I put back the photos, and he took me to his car. He drove me home, and I went to bed. I didn’t think much of it until the next morning when my parents came to pick up my brother and sister. When we went into my grandparents house, we saw my grandfather sitting in a lounge with some relatives and servants. Everyone was crying. I couldn’t see what was causing the commotion. “Where is the funeral?” I asked my grandfather. “Not today,” he replied. “We have one more thing to do before we go.” I looked at him. “What is that?” He pointed to me. “You.” I didn’t reply. I was happy to help. I went to his room with him. The box of tissues was gone and there was a small table with a bowl of water and a handkerchief. He showed me how to wipe my face with the handkerchief, splash water on it, and put a little bit of tear drops on it. “I want you to cry in front of everyone at the funeral,” he said. “Make them cry too.” I looked at the handkerchief and then at him. “Why?” “Because,” he replied. “They need to remember.” I didn’t reply. I just nodded and put the handkerchief in my pocket. My grandfather took me to the dining room. There was a table set for one. He sat down, and I sat across from him. “Are you hungry?” he asked. “Yes,” I replied. He called one of the servants over. “Bring me some food,” he said. I looked at him. “And me too?” He nodded. I didn’t know what to expect but I was happy to spend more time with him. I was sad that he lost his wife and I wanted to be there for him. The servant brought food and drinks. My grandfather and I ate in silence. I didn’t know what to talk about, but he didn’t seem to care. I just enjoyed his company and was glad to spend more time with him. After we finished, he asked me if I was ready for the funeral. I nodded, and he said it was time to go. I put the handkerchief in my pocket and we left the house. I didn’t know where we were going but I was ready. We went to a large hall. It was empty except for a long table at the front with two chairs on it. The chairs were covered in white fabric. I couldn’t see much of anything else. The room was dimly lit and it was cold. My grandfather sat in one of the chairs. I sat in the other one. I was still sad for him and wanted to be there for him. We waited for a while. I couldn’t see what was happening outside but I heard people coming in. The room wasn’t as empty anymore. He put his hand on my shoulder. “That’s it,” he said. “Now.” I pulled out the handkerchief and wiped my face with it. I started to cry, and he did too. I looked around the room at all the faces. They were all crying too. “Why are we crying?” I asked him. He looked at me sadly. “Because she is gone.” I didn’t reply. I cried for him and for his wife. I cried because he was crying and it seemed to help him. After a while, he said it was time to leave. I put the handkerchief back in my pocket, and we walked out of the hall. I didn’t see my grandparents again for a while. A few months later, my brother contracted a terrible illness and was hospitalised. My parents went to be with him, and my grandparents took care of me and my sister. I didn’t want to be away from my brother, so I asked them if I could go with my parents. They agreed and I went to see my brother. I didn’t know what was happening, but my brother was very sick and couldn’t fight it. I wanted to be there for him so I stayed with my parents. The doctors did everything they could to save him. They did blood tests and medicine. They even tried a special treatment to kill the germs in his body. They did everything they could but nothing seemed to work. I stayed with my brother for a while. My grandparents took care of my sister and came to visit me everyday. My grandparents seemed happy to see me. They cried with me and hugged me. I cried with them too. They seemed to want me there. One day, I woke up in the middle of the night. I was in a hospital room with my parents. My brother was in a coma. I looked around the room and couldn’t see my grandparents anywhere. I didn’t know what to expect but I was ready to leave. I went to the reception desk and asked them where I could go. They pointed me in the direction of the exit. I left the hospital and went home. I was devastated. My brother was in a coma and might not wake up. I wanted to be with him, so I asked my parents

They Paid Me $500 an Hour to Make People Cry at Funerals

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