Waiting at dusk for a ride That never Comes

"I was sitting on the hood of an old white sedan parked in a driveway I don't recognize, waiting for my dad to come drive me to a doctor's appointment. It was late afternoon, that flat yellow light right before dusk, and the house behind me had the front door wide open. My cousin walked out onto the porch carrying a stack of mail, looked right at me, and said my funeral had actually been two weeks ago on a Tuesday. It didn't sound like a shock or a tragedy, just a regular piece of news like telling me the mail came late. I checked my phone to see if anyone had texted me about it, but the screen was just a blank gray gradient and wouldn't swipe. I wasn't scared or in pain, but this heavy, suffocating ache settled into my stomach because I realized I was just sitting there on a stranger's car and nobody was coming to pick me up. I didn't know where my clothes were or where I was supposed to sleep that night. I just kept sitting on the warm metal hood watching the shadow from the roof get longer across the grass until the light was totally gone. Woke up feeling heavy and exhausted, just staring at the closet door for a long time."