by B S Steele
She looked relieved, and a little surprised. I’d suspected the importance of that gift to my Uncle. I knew my Dad wanted to leave us something of value. He hadn’t had much in life, and the insurance would barely cover the funeral expenses, but I could never sell a lifetime collection that he and his brother had spent so many years building. It belonged with my Uncle, and neither Emma nor I had any qualms with it.
“The funeral home will be expecting us up there in a bit,” my Aunt reminded us.
“Well, let’s get up there then,” I said, moving towards the door.
The room was starting to suck the air from my lungs with all its weight. I was ready to get the planning out of the way and see my Daddy’s face one last time.
Chapter 29: Morticia
The night before his funeral, I lay awake wondering exactly where his body was. Logically, I knew that it was at the funeral home, probably in some cold storage refrigerator, dressed and tucked neatly in the copper colored casket we’d chosen.
I didn’t want to think logically. I pretended that maybe he’d gotten up and walked out. Maybe he was at home, rolling up his cigarettes for the next day. Or maybe he’d gone by his best friend’s house for a couple beers. Maybe I was an idiot who didn’t want face that planning his funeral was a morbid and somber occasion. It was a mixture of maintaining dignity, while remembering that the shell that was left of my Dad had a quickly approaching expiration date, and that I needed to be prepared to say goodbye.
Earlier, sitting in the funeral director’s office, I’d asked all sorts of pointed questions. Like what did they do with the blood? What chemicals did they use in their clients? Were they called clients? “Patient” didn’t seem right for a dead person.
The poor funeral director probably had the struggle of his life, trying to remain professional as I pelted him with questions. Grief does funny things to people, and I was no exemption. I wanted to see his body, to be alone with him.
Ironically, I was completely averted to the idea of a “viewing.” I didn’t want to “view” him. I wanted to lay next to him, to wrap myself up in his big arms, like when I was little. I wanted him to wake up, to smile at me, and laugh just one more time.
Hell, even a bout of snoring would have been okay with me. Instead, I closed my eyes and prayed for him to come to me in my dreams, to tell me he was okay and that I wasn’t alone. To reassure me that he wasn’t lost.
No one answered my prayers. I didn’t dream of him, or anything really. I sunk into a black and restless sleep, thinking of all the things I might say the next day at his wake.
Chapter 30: Goodbye is Never Easy
The morning of the funeral, I dressed myself in the same silk shirt I’d last seen him alive in. It was oriental in style, charcoal grey with teal and peach flowers subtly colored in. I curled my hair and twisted it up away from my face.
Emma said she wouldn’t be wearing makeup, since there was little point. I wore it anyway and figured I’d bring sunglasses to cover any smearing. No point in looking worse than my poor father on his funeral day.
David was flying home from Military tech school, let off on family leave due to the death in the family. I hadn’t seen him in months, and I was relieved to have him back. He’d be allowed to stay through Emma’s wedding as well.
Michael was ecstatic and would scrunch up his whole face in a smile, his eyes looking like half-moons as he squealed in delight. My hands shook as I applied my mascara, wondering when he’d walk through the front door.
A little later the doorbell rang, and there he was, dressed in his Air Force Blues looking handsome and thinner than I’d last seen him. He looked nineteen again, fresh shaven and trim. His eyes twinkled at me, his smile full and wide, showing all his perfect teeth.
“David!” I whispered, throwing my arms around his neck.
I pulled him in towards me for a deep, desperate kiss. He held my face in his hands, his eyes filling with tears.
“Anna, I’m home.” He said, looking deep into my eyes. For a moment I forgot my pain and felt filled with joy. It had been a long four months alone.
“Michael is sleeping, but you can wake him if you’d like, he will be so happy to see you,” I said, pulling him into the house.
He looked around, setting his bag on the floor, breathing in the scent of our home, smiling and sighing with happiness.
“Yes, let’s go wake up our boy,” he beamed.
When Michael realized it was his daddy waking him up, his eyes flew open, his smile instant. He reached for his neck, pulling him down, and clinging to him.
“My boy! My boy!” David repeated, squeezing his diapered bottom, and breathing in Michael’s soft caramel hair.
Michael squealed and looked at me, his cheeks bright with excitement. From that moment forward, I don’t think I was allowed to hold him until the day his dad waved good-bye to us.
“Let me get him dressed, and we’ll head over to the funeral home. You said it starts at two, right?” David asked, laying Michael on the bed and looking around for a fresh diaper.
“Yes,” I said somberly, the magic moment dissipating as I glanced at the clock. David looked at me, noticing the change in my face.
He frowned, and gathered me into a strong hug, and said quietly, “I’m so sorry about your Dad, hon.”
I nodded into his shoulder, dabbing at a stray tear.
“Thank you, I’ve been really worried about taking Michael, but everyone thinks he should be there. He got this little pillow that says ‘Papa,’ he’s going to place in the casket today.”
David looked at Michael, a concerned look on his face.
“I think he will be just fine. I’ll keep an eye on him, and I don’t want you to worry about a thing,” he reassured.
I felt relieved. I’d been afraid that I’d feel alone, especially since Emma had her fiancée with her.
When we arrived at the funeral home, we greeted the family members standing outside, David soaking in the exclamations over his ribbons and the proud smiles and pats on the back from everyone. I stood by waiting to enter, the ornate glass door looming ahead of me.
Emma had been at the viewing yesterday and had already seen our Dad. I hadn’t gone, mostly for my own reasons. I couldn’t bear sitting there in the quiet, looking at his vacant corpse. Now, I’d see him for the first and last time.
David must have noticed my face paling, and came to my side, as a funeral attendant opened the doors. A cousin had gone inside to alert my family I had arrived. My Aunt greeted me inside. The long-woven carpet looking spotless and formal under chandelier lighting.
“Hello, Anna. I’ll take you to see him now, if you are ready.” My Aunt offered.
My mind numbed as I looked from her face to David’s who was distracted with greeting more family. I nodded at her and pulled on David’s arm.
“Oh, is it time?” He asked, adjusting Michael on his hip.
My Aunt nodded at him, and I handed Michael the little white pillow that was embroidered with the word, ‘Papa.’ He squeezed it in his small hands, looking at me curiously.
“That’s for Papa,” I said, holding back tears. “You can give it to him now.”
“Papa?” Michael repeated, as we walked toward the chapel room.
The chapel was dimly lit, with chairs set up facing the copper colored casket we had chosen. Emma sat, her face red and blank, staring at nothing. Her arm intertwined in her fiancée’s.
She looked up at me and looked towards the casket. He lay there with pink colored floor lamps casting a warm glow on his features. His hands resting softly on his chest, his eagle ring glinting on his right hand. His grey sweater was tucked neatly around his body, and his long hair had been combed out and lay softly on his shoulders.
I let go of David and gripped my Aunt’s hands tightly. A sob rising in my throat. The bruise on his forehead from where he had lain after his heart attack was still visible under the makeup. The funeral director approached me and took my hands, looking sympathetically
into my eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” he said sincerely.
I swallowed my tears and smiled.
“You did a beautiful job. He looks good.”
I looked back at his still form and felt grateful. He was recognizable, but his flesh without his soul was not him.
It was then I learned a little about life after death, because wherever he was, it was not in this shell that lay here in front of me. I leaned in, kissed his cheek and put my hand on his cold chest, which felt like rubber under the weave of his sweater.
“I love you, Dad.” I said, as I helped Michael place the pillow among the other photos and trinkets loved ones had left him. I turned and hugged my Aunt, straightened my shoulders, and prepared to give the eulogy I had written for him. I faced the small gathering of family and began to read my letter to my Daddy.
How would I begin to say goodbye to a man I thought was invincible? The one who let me braid his hair, and never let me wonder if I was loved. He always reminded me that as long as I could dream it, I could become anything.
I turned towards his body, looking at his peaceful face, and started to read.
“You believed in me Dad, and because of that, I believed in myself. You were loved by so many and they are all here today, to celebrate the memories you left us with. You weren’t a complicated man, or a man who ever looked down on anyone. For that, we loved you. You never had an unkind word to say, and I watched you comfort people others might have thought weren’t worth the breath it took to speak. You’ve left us with a place that can’t be filled, but while you might only be a memory in a photograph to some, for those of us who knew you, you will forever be a memory in our hearts. Until we meet again.
Your loving daughter, Anna.”
Weeks later, when we buried his ashes among the pines, I’d slowly came to peace that the world would keep turning, the sun would continue to rise and sink.
As the months turned to years, the facts became simple. My father had died on a sunny September day with $300 in his bank account, a few bushels of tomatoes, and a large piece of my heart.
Chapter 31: A Wedding in the Family
“Oh, my God,” I whispered under my breath as I pulled up to my apartment.
A fire department truck was parked outside, it’s lights flashing. The door to my apartment was open with wafts of smoke drifting out.
A few of my neighbors stood outside, cell phones glued to their ears. One of them recognized my car and rushed to meet me.
“Anna! Hey, it’s okay! There wasn’t a fire,” he said quickly, grabbing onto my arm. I let out the breath I’d been holding in, blowing it out in relief.
“It’s okay,” he repeated. “It looks like maybe you left something cooking on the stove and we caught it before it went up.”
“The beans!” I wailed, covering my face with my hands. “I totally forgot about them. I was trying to make bean soup for dinner.”
“Yeah, that’s what it looked like,” he said, letting himself smile a little. “Well, I hate to tell you this, but I don’t think it salvageable.”
I laughed despite myself.
“Thank you so much,” I said, squeezing him in a tight hug. “I’m so glad someone was here.”
The fire marshal came out of the house and walked towards us.
“Is this the tenant?” He asked in an official sounding voice.
“Yes, that’s me,” I said sheepishly.
He looked at me sternly, and said, “Okay, well it’s completely safe to go in, just be more careful in the future. This could have been a lot worse.”
I nodded, thanked him, and unbuckled Michael from his car seat.
“Oh shit! My sister’s wedding decorations are all inside!” I said, looking wide eyed at my neighbor.
He grimaced, “Well, hopefully they are okay. Probably will need to be aired out for sure though.”
I groaned, “Thank you. I better go check on them and give her a call.”
He nodded and patted me on the back, heading back to his own apartment.
Once inside, Michael scrunched up his tiny nose, and shouted, “Stinky!”
I rolled my eyes, wondering how I could have been so careless.
It smelled horrid, like smoke, burnt beans, and an underlying acidic smell I couldn’t identify. The whole house reeked of seared beans. I climbed the stairs and opened the large closet that was storing all her decorations, plus some of the bridesmaid’s dresses. Everything looked fine, but I was sure the smell had permeated the fabric, and the boxes of flowers I’d spent hours making. I pulled out my cell phone, reluctantly dialing her number.
“Hello?” Emma’s voice said into the receiver.
“Hey, it’s me. I think I may have just ruined the wedding decorations. . .”
“What? Please tell me you are joking!” she exclaimed.
“No, I accidentally left some beans on the stove, and nearly burnt down my house,” I replied, feeling tears stinging the back of my eyes.
“Oh, that’s all?” She said in a sarcastic tone.
“Now everything smells like burnt beans!” I insisted.
She pulled the phone away from her mouth, snorting and laughing. I started to laugh too.
“After everything this week, I think bean-smell is the least of our worries,” she said, catching her breath.
“Ugg, I’m so glad you aren’t mad,” I said, sighing with relief. “I will air everything out though, just to be safe.”
“Sounds good,” she said, laughing again. “Hey, don’t forget, meet me at the wedding hall in a couple hours. We can bring the stuff over there and let it air out while we start setting up.”
“Okay, but I gotta get to work on your cake. Still not sure how it’s all supposed to hold together,” I replied.
“I have faith in you,” she snorted, sending us both into another fit of laughter.
I’d been working on her wedding cake, a simple three-tiered fondant cake with her wedding flowers decorating the aqua colored icing. It hadn’t been going well because my homemade chocolate cake was simply too soft to hold the tiers together well.
“Okay sis, see ya in a few hours,” I said, feeling like a weight had been lifted.
“I love you, Anna.” She said quietly. “Let’s just be thankful that we didn’t lose anything else today.”
“Yeah, thank God. I could have lost my home,” I said tearfully. “I love you too, and everything is going to be alright.”
“I think so too, now get your ass moving. We have a whole hall to decorate tonight,” she laughed.
Later, I drove the few miles to the local VFW hall. It was large, with controlled lighting and an ample dance floor. Someone had already been setting up the tables and chairs. A bartender was there, cleaning the countertops and getting prepped for the reception the next day.
“Hey ladies! One of you must be the bride?” He greeted us as we walked in.
“That would be her,” I said, pointing to Emma.
“Well, congratulations!” He said enthusiastic-ally. “Looks like it’s going to be a big wedding, with all that beer that came in this afternoon.”
“Oh! beer,” Emma said. “I’m craving one now.”
“Well, go check it out and make sure we got everything you ordered. I wouldn’t suggest tapping the kegs just yet,” he said, winking at us.
We walked into the cooler, counting the kegs and checking off Emma’s lists she’d brought.
“Okay, looks like everything is here,” she said. “Now let’s go bring in those decorations! It’s time to have a little fun.”
We looked at each other and squealed, racing down the hall, her beating me by a long stretch. She’d always been the sporty one. Taller than me, with a more athletic build.
“Ha-ha, beat ‘cha,” she said, as if it were some accomplishment.
I’d been the slowest on my track team and quit after I lost my school a relay race by two whole laps.
“Ha-ha,” I mocked, and pushed past her to the
car parked out front.
We hauled in the boxes, opening them and shouting out new ideas as we pulled out all the carefully made crafts. She’d chosen aqua and bright pink as her color scheme, and orchids for her flowers.
Living in Michigan, we’d done it the sure-fire way of getting orchids in September and bought silk arrangements online.
“So, what about the cake?” Emma asked, eyeing me suspiciously.
“It’s actually all coming together. The fondant color is perfect, and I think it will look awesome. I’ll bring the cake tonight and get it all set up.”
She nodded, smiling wide, her cheeks flushed from all the excitement. I stole another look at her, snapping a mental photograph of how happy she looked in that moment.
We heard a few more female voices in the hall as the bridesmaids arrived.
“Hey! In here! Come help decorate!” I yelled.
Tomorrow was going to be perfect for my sister, if I had anything to do with it.
The next morning, David helped dress Michael in his little tux, smoothing his soft curls with a comb, and giving me plenty of space for my makeup and hair products. Emma had let me choose my own dress, an aqua sleeveless A-line gown that shimmered with a few sparkles here and there which helping me stand out from the other bridesmaids, who all had matching darker teal colored gowns.
I’d sewn a bit of the fabric that matched their gowns into the fold of my own dress to tie it in with the others. Everything was ready, and it was almost time to show up at the church. Emma had chosen to get married in the same church that David and I had wed in two years earlier.
It was a large church, with long pews and beautiful stained-glass windows and perfect for non-denominational weddings. Emma’s husband-to-be was Catholic, but she had not converted so technically, the church was their very first big compromise as a couple. I couldn’t be happier for her and could not wait to see her in her beautiful gown.
Even my Mother had decided to conform and had purchased a beautiful ivory Mother-of-the-bride dress and was getting her hair professionally done.