The Angelic Occurrence

by Henry K. Ripplinger

  The black lady he was talking to, also stared at me for longer than is usual as well. It felt as if she knew me and was surprised to see me. She kept shaking her head. I saw her talk to someone near by and they both stared at me. It looked like he was telling the lady who I was. I don’t recall ever seeing her before though. Who is that lady? She might be related to Eddy’s wife Coreena, whom I met. I should have asked her if that lady was.

  And later, Henry and that man were talking to one another for the longest time and then they both started to stare at me, too!

  Am I just imagining all this, or are all these people connected to me in some way?

  Camilla opened the journal that was marked with a white piece of paper sticking up. She pulled it out and stared at the name for the umpteenth time.

  She was certain, it read Camilla’s mother. Could there possibly be something to this? The same feeling she had towards that man at Father Engelmann’s party, she felt that day she spoke to Mrs. Hamilton.

  And Jeremy’s father, the way he keeps looking at me as if he knows something I don’t…

  Jeremy came into the kitchen, startling Camilla. He went over to the counter and pulled out the plug. Camilla hadn’t even noticed or was aware the water had been boiling away.

  “Did you want some tea, honey?”

  “Yes, but it’s okay. I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

  Jeremy sat down opposite Camilla, at the table.

  “No, I heard you get up, I couldn’t sleep either. I was thinking of Grandma and how much we all are going to miss her. I was wondering how to best tell Joshua when he gets up this morning.”

  “I was thinking about that, too. It’s going to be so hard on him. They were so close.”

  “Dad will be taking it pretty hard, too. He loved his mom so much. He would never let anything interfere with Sunday dinners with her and Father. He will seem so lost…I don’t think he will ever get used to that.”

  “I saw the close relationship they had, Jeremy, it was very special.”

  The kitchen fell silent. Jeremy could tell something more than the death of Grandma was bothering his wife.

  “Were you writing something in your journal?”

  “Yes, I just read over what I wrote about the man I saw at Father’s anniversary party. Remember I asked you if you knew him and you said no.”

  “Oh, yeah, I saw him again at the café when Eddy and his wife Coreena had their reception and lunch. He was Eddy’s best man. His name is Peter and his wife was Angie, I think. Can’t remember their last name.”

  “Did you speak with him?” Camilla was anxious to know.

  “Actually, it was he and his wife who approached me and wanted to know about us. How long we were married and if we were both from Regina and several other questions that I can’t really remember. It was Peter who seemed especially interested in you and commented how beautiful you were and his wife concurred. So why are you writing about him?

  Camilla shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t know for sure… I feel I know him from some place…do you think he looks anything like me…?”

  Jeremy turned to his dear wife and gave her a strange look, “Oh, oh we’re not going there again are we? Surely you don’t think he’s your father…? First, Dad and now Peter?”

  Tears surfaced and Camilla just shook her head. “Don’t you see, Jeremy, I want to know who I am! I just get these messages lately that I just can’t seem to shake. I know it’s silly for me to think of all these possibilities, but…but, I can’t help it.”

  Jeremy reached out to Camilla and took her hand, “I’m sorry, honey, I just don’t know where this is all going. I just think, Stanley and Valerie are your birth parents and you may be going through all this torture and turmoil for nothing.”

  “Oh, Jeremy, I’m sorry…”

  Camilla looked at her husband, tears filling her eyes. She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head from side to side… “I can’t help it honey…I feel like I’m in limbo somewhere.”

  Camilla broke loose of Jeremy’s hand, got up and hurried back to the bedroom.

  Jeremy sat there in shock, not knowing what to do.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Shortly after seven, Henry drove to the city. It would be a busy day. His first stop was to attend the mass Father was saying for Mom. Henry didn’t know any of the handful of parishioners that were present during a weekday service.

  Immediately following the mass, Henry went to the funeral home and made arrangements. He selected a memorial card with the verse that captured his mom’s nature. Since he still had her rosary in his pocket, he left it with the director to put in her hands. He would have to stop by the house to pick up another dress for her and return it in the afternoon. He wondered what they did with the dress, apron and shoes she was wearing, not that it really mattered.

  Henry decided to stop by the gallery before going to his mom’s place for the change of clothes. News had spread fast and all the staff expressed their condolences to him as soon as he arrived. The opening of the exhibition had gone well the day before. A large crowd turned out and several more paintings sold and over half of the pottery.

  Henry had coffee with Jeremy and Justin to discuss the funeral arrangements and what scriptures they would want read, and who in the family would read them. He told Justin to come home with Lauren as he wouldn’t be back. After he dropped his mom’s clothes off at Speer’s he headed home to clean up a little before Allison came home and prepare for other relatives that would maybe drop in.

  When Henry arrived at his mother’s place, he felt lost, as if he were in the wrong house. It seemed so quiet, its life was gone. He walked into the kitchen and looked down on the floor where he found his mom the day before. He quickly pushed that scene out of his mind and visualized her in front of the sink like he usually saw her.

  “Good morning, Mom,” he whispered under his breath, fully believing that her spirit was in the home with him.

  He went to the bedroom to see what dress he should find for her to wear. She especially liked her navy dress with the crocheted white collar that she wore for Sunday Mass. The blue looked so nice with her greying hair. When he opened the bedroom closet, it was the first dress he saw. He picked up her black pumps directly below even though he wasn’t sure if they were necessary as the person’s legs and feet are hidden under the lid of the coffin. Her cosmetic bag lay on the dresser and he thought it might be a good idea to take that as well in case they wanted to put some rouge or lipstick on. He placed all the articles in an empty Sears shopping bag that was in the closet. He looked up into the mirror and wondered how many times his Mom did the same.

  Looking at his reflection he saw a beautiful white rose in a clear glass vase. He hadn’t noticed it till now. A card was propped up against the stem of the vase. It was a photo of St. Therese and on the back was a Novena to her. Mom had read all about the saint she had prayed to so often for favours.

  I wonder what Mom was praying for this time?

  He whispered the words of the little prayer to himself as his eyes noted his mother’s treasure chest at the end of the dresser.

  My gosh, he hadn’t seen that in years. He looked into the mirror and saw himself trying to think when the last time was. He saw the light go on in his eyes. Yes, it was shortly after Dad died and when he came over he found his mom in the bedroom sitting on the edge of the bed holding Dad’s death certificate. She looked so sad and alone his heart went out to her.

  He recalled looking at what was in the treasure chest and picked up a pink envelope. It seemed to upset mom and she snatched it away. And…and come to think of it, it gave off a lilac scent just like the sent he smelled the other day when he prayed over her body.

  An eerie feeling crawled up his back and he felt the hair on the back of his neck rise.

  He stepped over to the chest and tried to open it,
but it was locked. He looked on the dresser for the key. He opened the top drawer, but it wasn’t in there either. He looked at his watch and decided to check it out when he came back to clean things out.

  Henry walked out into the hallway and as he passed his old bedroom he decided to look in. It hadn’t changed in all the years since he left. His old desk and chair were still there. Pictures and memorabilia on the walls along with a shelf his dad had made to set all the trophies on that he won at school. He set the shopping bag down and walked into his room and sat down at his desk. How many times had he sat there doing his homework, when the aroma of his mother’s cooking drifted in, disrupting his concentration?

  Absently, he pulled open the bottom drawer and there they were after all those years – the little notes that Jenny had written to him and hidden behind the front gate post of her fence held by an elastic band. He picked them out and laid them on the desk in front of him. One by one he read them recalling the memories, smiling and even chuckling to himself over some of the thoughts:

  ‘Oh, Henry, if you were a chocolate bar, you would be the only one I would ever want.’

  He wondered what ever happened to Jenny. All those letters he wrote to her and not one response.

  Henry recalled the first letter he wrote to her, his very first love letter to a girl. He tried to remember its contents as his mind traveled way back in time. He recalled it was short, but couldn’t remember exactly what he wrote, only that each word was filled with a deep love which he still felt.

  He replaced the notes in the bottom drawer and closed it. He was about to get up then hesitated and pulled open the top drawer and took out a fresh sheet of paper. He reached into the inside pocket of his sports jacket for his fountain pen. Henry needed to do one more thing; he knew if he didn’t do it now his thoughts would be lost in the busyness of life.

  A heart overflowing with memories and gratitude yearned to express itself.

  He wrote his final love letter to his very, very first love…ever!

  The viewing room was dim except for a soft light shining down on his mother. Only part of her profile in the casket was visible to Henry and Allison as they entered the room, both a little tense and nervous. They had always seen her alive and well, and now the thought of seeing her dead, filled them with sadness, regret and apprehension.

  As they neared, however, Henry began to feel better. She looked as if she were asleep, so peaceful. Her skin looked soft and pale, even though he detected a bit of rouge. She was wearing her blue Sunday dress and her rosary was intertwined in her hands and fingers. She still looked beautiful, but her features slightly altered as the skin no longer had a life force to support it. He and Allison said a prayer and then silently stood there, each in their own thoughts.

  Finally, Henry made the sign of the cross over his mother’s forehead then went to the front pew in the chapel where Ivania was already seated. Allison remained for a few minutes longer, then followed. Lauren, Jeremy and Camilla, Joshua, Justin and a few relatives and friends were already seated, waiting for the evening prayer service to begin.

  It was a small gathering since most of Mary’s friends had passed away. Most of the relatives were gone as well or too sickly to attend the service. A few of the distant cousins and several nieces and nephews were present, as well as Mary’s neighbours.

  Father Engelmann approached the pews and shook hands with all the family and many of the people present before he said mass. He seemed like the Pope passing amongst his flock.

  Father returned to the altar and began the mass. Justin read the first reading while stopping several times to regain his composure. Camilla, looking radiant as always, did the second reading. She appeared as an angel before them. Henry had great difficulty paying attention to the words of scripture she read. Every time he saw Camilla, he saw Jenny.

  Camilla finished reading and returned to her pew. Henry was captivated by her sparkling eyes and buoyant manner. Henry had never forgotten what Mr. Engelmann had said as Jenny hopped out of his store one afternoon a lifetime ago, “A happy heart makes a cheerful face.”

  As soon as Camilla was seated, Father rose and read the Gospel and then spoke of his relationship with Mary. He shared the family relationship he had with her, how much he loved her, how good her cooking was, and more importantly, her loving heart. She was always so happy for others when good things happened to them. He told how they danced like two children doing “Ring Around the Rosy” when he’d sold the store.

  When the mass was over, Father opened the floor to anyone wishing to speak. Each of the children got up and said a few words recalling special memories and stories they had of their grandma’s kindness and generosity and understanding. Henry was going to speak, but decided not to, he was feeling too melancholy. He just remained silent and passive, holding Ivania’s hand, looking on with pride and love at his family, which now would be missing a member and no longer seemed complete.

  When the mother dies the heart of the family is weakened. It is when the father dies as well. But there just seems to be the special bond a child has with their mother that is forever. A mother is the one God has chosen to give the precious gift of life and birth to. And somehow that gift from both mother and God is never forgotten.

  In the end we all desire to come home to our earthly and Heavenly creator.

  Everyone chatted and mingled with each other for a half hour after the service and then went home. The following day the funeral would take place at St. Mary’s Church and would be another difficult day. Henry’s family went home with him to the acreage. After Justin went to bed Henry reminisced for awhile over a cup of tea with the girls and shortly thereafter, they all retired.

  Henry woke a few minutes before six with the bright sunlight flooding into his bedroom through the east window. From his vantage point the sky was swept clear of all clouds. It was a gorgeous fall day. His mother loved the sun and it was only fitting that it would shine down on her.

  Allison was already up, sitting in the sun room reading her Bible. Henry made a cup of tea and joined her.

  “How are you feeling, Dad?”

  “A little more rested, actually I slept better last night than the night before. You’re up bright and early.”

  “Just following a practice I learned from you,” Allison replied with a smile.

  “It’s a good way to start the day. I’ve being doing it for almost thirty years. Whenever I’m rushed in the morning and skip being quiet with the Lord, I always regret it. It’s impossible to go out into the world without being charged, focused and knowing what your purpose in life really is.”

  Allison nodded. They chatted for awhile, recalling the times grandma was out at the farm and the good chats and walks down into the valley they had. She remembered so many images of grandma sitting on a chair with her elbows on her knees saying the rosary. The sun was streaking in through the windows casting such a beautiful aura of light around her. There were a few times, too I caught her up at the barn sitting on a water pail doing the same thing with the horses roaming around her.

  “Yeah, she loved the farm. I think both Mom and Dad regretted having moved into the city. They often said it just wasn’t the same and missed their relatives and neighbours.

  Soon Lauren and then Justin appeared on the scene. As they talked, Henry began breakfast. He was happy that his children were close and got along so well. They seemed to bond even more after Julean died.

  He recalled only too well when he was counseling parents how misunderstandings, carelessly chosen words or foolish actions could cause rifts and feelings of unforgiveness that could linger at times for years and years. Many times Henry found members of a family could be more forgiving to strangers than to each other. Perhaps because of the close ties in a family, when one hurts the other the pain goes deeper and lasts longer.

  Henry remembered how it took his mom years to forgive his father f
or his unfaithfulness to her. He hoped and prayed that his family would continue to get along so well.

  Perhaps too, it was Father Engelmann’s encouragement to them all to start every day with the Lord and listen to His command to love, to quickly close the door to any injury or harbouring of ill will and to never allow it to take a foothold as it would often become a stronghold.

  After eating breakfast and chatting some more, everyone got dressed and ready for Grandma’s funeral. Henry and his family arrived at Speer’s Funeral Home shortly after nine. After a brief exchange of hugs and meeting the other pallbearers in addition to Henry’s two sons, they all piled into the limousines and followed the hearse to St. Mary’s.

  As they stepped out of the limousines in front of the church, Henry recognized a few of the relatives. He thought it funny in a way how they never seemed to get together unless there was a marriage or death in the family. Everyone was so busy in their own lives and their little world that there never seemed time for anyone else. A lot of the other people in attendance were acquaintances of Henry’s who had come out in support and respect for his loss, even though they’d never known his mom.

  Ivania was there too, however at this service she sat apart from the family with the rest of the people. Henry was happy to see her there.

  The funeral on the whole went smoothly. Who would have thought, though, that Father Engelmann would be officiating at the mass for his mother? He was much older and had outlived most of his friends so far.

  His talk centred on Mary’s perfect acceptance of her role as loving mother. She was the heart and soul of her family and he was so glad to have been a part of it.