My father sat next to me, pressing me awkwardly against the end of the first pew along the center aisle. I did not want to be there, next to him or anyone else. He had been staying close ever since my uncle brought me home a week ago. We were not close enough in heart and mind to be so physically pressed together, but the entire family had huddled collectively, as if the proximity would heal the rift that was tearing us all to pieces. No one wanted to be isolated; no one wanted to be left within their own misery, alone, on a second aisle, with distant family members or mere friends.