by Eva Morian
Margaret’s question wasn’t something the director hadn’t heard before. He nodded and tried to comfort her about the idea, “On the contrary to popular belief, the dead are sanitary to touch and be around for quite some time. Some cultures choose to live with their dead ones for weeks before burial. Your grandson and anyone who wishes to interact with her will be perfectly safe.” He said gently.
Miriam huffed out a sob as she pressed a shaken hand to her mouth. She spoke out of turn and rambled the first idea that came to her mind, “A white casket with a soft blue interior. Emily would look beautiful in that.”
Simon blinked vacantly, and Jack did his best to support his wife even though he was as broken as she was, “The color of her eyes. She loved to wear it.” his voice cracked at the end. Crying now, the memories of his baby girl caught up to him.
The director looked at them for a moment before he nodded and quickly pulled out the catalogue, “We have quite a few caskets that are white. They are popular for women and children to capture the purity of one’s life.” He answered.
Miriam nodded repeatedly while her lips were curved downwards in a pronounced frown, “Y-yes. Yes, that would be perfect. Just perfect for our daughter.” She said in response.
The sobbing, talking, and questions all left a bitter taste in Simon’s mouth. It was one thing to live with the fact that she was gone, but to talk about his precious wife post death grated on his nerves, “Is there anything else?” he asked.
The director glanced between Simon and the others only for him to nod, “Yes, have we decided on flowers?” he questioned.
Margaret cleared her throat as she blew out, “Do you have anything with morning glories or lilacs? She loved purple.” She asked.
The director clicked his tongue against his teeth while he turned towards his computer and browsed the categories, “We do, but they are pricier you understand.”
Miriam quickly interjected, “Nothing is too much for our baby.”
The director nodded before turning the screen with the choices they had, “While you’re browsing, have you decided on what she’d like to wear?” he asked.
Margaret chewed on her bottom lip as she thought about it, “I don’t think she’d be able to fit her wedding dress, right? We shouldn’t have them cut it on her. What do you think, Simon?” she asked while placing a hand on his shoulder.
Simon didn’t respond right away and, for a moment, it didn’t seem as though he was listening. About five seconds later he flicked his eyes at his mother and gradually caught up to speed, “Uhhh…” He searched for an answer and gave an odd nod despite his true answer, “…no, no, we shouldn’t ruin it. She’d murder us.” He sighed out at a loss.
Margaret gave her son a strong smile before she shook her head to the director, “We will have something of hers picked out before the service.”
“That’s fine then. Let’s go ahead and choose her casket, her flowers, a plot of land and we can discuss the costs. Ready?” he questioned.
Simon zoned out once more while they went through the motions of every detail. He allowed them to choose and organize the entire day because he didn’t have an input. It was decided for him when life took her away. It didn’t matter what flowers or casket, decorations, and music selections they chose. She wasn’t going to be there. She couldn’t be. Simon still had the feeling that he’d go home, and she’d be there to light up the room with her smile and show him the next strange craft she wanted to make. He was losing half of himself and his mind couldn’t process a life without her.
Simon didn’t realize that all eyes were on him about an hour later. Margaret leaned over and placed her hand once again on his shoulder and shook him slightly, “Son? Son…did you hear what he said?”
The director inhaled a patient breath and kept his fingertips gently pressed together, “I said the total cost for Mrs. Gabot’s funeral will be twelve thousand dollars.” He repeated. They all looked to him and waited for his reaction, anything at all to show that he was still conscious of the decisions being made.
Simon gave his mother a blank expression before he glanced at the funeral director. His features didn’t change in the slightest. He simply nodded and politely continued as though it was natural, “Okay. Sounds fine.” He responded. Internally, Simon was shocked. To him, a funeral for his wife would cost more. She was worth more. To him, she was priceless.
Silence filled the room and everyone, other than Margaret and the director, took in Simon’s reaction. Miriam held a crumpled tissue to her nose and mouth, Jack tapped his fingers nervously on his seat, and Simon Sr. stared at his son. The room felt stuffy and overcrowded which caught the director’s attention to move onward, “How will we process payment? Will you pay for it Mr. Gabot? Family?” he asked.
Simon didn’t hesitate of think of the consequence. He’d do whatever he’d need until this was over and begin the process of grieving, “I’ll pay.” He answered.
Jack quickly interjected, “Are you sure about this son? You don’t have to spend so much, at least let us do half. She was our baby too”
Jack made a good point. Looking to his father-in-law, Simon saw sympathy and pain. He knew he couldn’t take on everything about Emily himself, “Thank you.” He said with a nod of appreciation.
Simon reached into his pocket, retrieved his credit card, and placed it on the table. Simon Sr. watched his son and couldn’t begin to understand how he was feeling or what he thought. All he knew was that Simon was as far from alright as he’d ever been, “We’re all here for you. We can all help.” He stated.
Without another word, Margaret reached into her purse, pulled out her wallet, and fished for her debit card. Miriam pat on Jack’s chest as though to tell him he needed to do the same. Margaret held her card over to the director and cleared her throat, “Separate it three ways please.” She said in a hoarse tone.
Collecting their cards, the director nodded before he stood and crossed the room, “I will give you all a few moments to yourself. Excuse me.” He said ducking out.
Miriam sighed while a hand rubbed against her chest, “Oh my, oh my, my, my. I can’t wait until this is all over. I just…I feel sick. Very, very sick to my stomach.” She stated out loud.
Margaret wet her lips, “No matter what, we are a family and we will get through this.”
Miriam nodded before she leaned over and plucked another tissue from the tray, “Yes, yes. I just don’t know how to.” She whispered.
Margaret squeezed her husband’s hand before she turned her gaze to him. Her nose and eyes were beet red. Biting on her lip, she forced a smile only too glance back at Simon, “Together. Simon, we will help you, alright? You and Cherish, we will help go through Emily’s things. Take care of the babies. Whatever you need, do not hesitate to ask. Jack and Miriam will be staying with your father and I. Alright?”
Simon didn’t have a word to say and his father noticed. The only thing he could muster was a tense, tight-lipped line across his mouth, “Alright, thank you.” He said. His face, voice, and body were alike to being on auto pilot.
The director returned not too long after, gave them their cards back, and finished the session, “Everything is paid, and the arrangements are underway. I think I should inform you though, that Emily arrived this morning. So, if you could bring an outfit soon that would be much appreciated.” He said.
Simon quickly lifted his head and, for the first time all afternoon, looked fully present. The desperation to see his wife again spurred him, “Let me see her.” He stated.
Miriam blinked several times and her hand clenched her stomach. This did nothing for her nerves and now to know that her daughter was under the same roof, in a place like this, caused her to shake her head. Jack once again took his wife into his arms before she lost it, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He said. Though he wanted to see his daughter again, he didn’t want it to be like that.
Miriam was far too gone to give an appropriate response and the d
irector cleared his throat, “I have to agree Mr. Gabot, sometimes it’s best not to see your loved one in such a lifeless state before the funeral.” He replied somewhat concerned.
The news had stressed everyone except Simon. He needed to know because he didn’t believe they had her. That the body they held was hers. He had difficulties accepting that she wasn’t coming back. He was determined to make it real. Without listening to their reasoning, he asserted, “I don’t care. I need to see my wife.” He was livelier than he’d been earlier by a large margin, “They don’t have to come, but I need to see her with my own eyes.” He persisted.
The director sighed and rubbed the back of his head. There wasn’t any protocol for a family member not to see their loved one, they just advised against the notion when trauma was involved. With a sigh, he nodded and waved for Simon to follow, “Come along then.” He stated.
Margaret watched her son for a long moment before she quickly stood and wrung her hands together, “I want to go too. I need to be there for him.” She stated.
The director looked to everyone else and bowed out of the room, “This way.” He said.
Leading them out of the office and down a long hallway, they passed by the viewing halls towards a lone, white door at the end. Simon could barely feel his legs. The director opened the door and held it for them to enter the small room. There were large, metal doors directly across on the furthest wall from the entrance. An examination table rested between. The cupboards were white, and the space was immaculate.
When they stepped into the room, Simon’s stomach dropped at the tell-tale scene because he knew what was to come. Allowing the door to shut behind them, the director wandered over towards the metal hatch with the number three. Waiting, he looked at the two of them before he lowered the latch, pulled the door open, and reached inside.
Cool wisps of air drifted from within and Margaret held her breath. She saw Emily’s small foot with a tag around the big toe; branded with her name. Instantly tears welled into Margaret’s eyes before she took a firm hold of Simon’s hand and laced their fingers together. The rack rolled out and there she was, revealed to them in slow motion with a lone sheet over her body. Her hair was fanned around her head, her lips were pasty, and her body had lost the healthy glow. Her stomach, which held his son less than a week earlier, was still on deflated display. His wife, Emily, laid there without knowledge, without love, and without life. The director calmly stared down at her before he silently took a leave towards the corner of the room.
Simon didn’t want to be convinced of the proof before his eyes. He stared at her and got a good, unfortunate look. She didn’t look at herself, just a shell of the woman he knew. The feeling of weightlessness took a hold of his body. The moment was surreal. Only, he didn’t know how to feel.
Margaret couldn’t feel any grip in her son’s hand which only made her hold onto him tighter. Even though Emily was without makeup, without life, and without her vivaciousness, she was the same beautiful woman she remembered. The last words Emily said to them the night before Jr. was born echoed through her mind. “I can’t wait until he’s here.” Margaret’s expression twisted, and large tears streaked down her cheeks.
Her daughter was gone.
Reaching out, Simon’s fingers brushed against her chin and jaw. He held her face in his hand, but she was cold. Her skin felt as dull as it looked, and she didn’t move or reciprocate his touch. Staring at her, he wanted her to look at him again. “Please, please open your eyes, Emily.” Was all he could repeat in his mind. His nostrils flared, and his eyes finally filled with tears for the first time since they’d arrived.
Margaret’s head slowly landed on Simon’s arm as they stared at her. Quickly wiping her eyes, she spoke to him as he stroked along his wife’s face one last time, “She looks so peaceful and beautiful. She did such a wonderful job with Jr. and I know she would have been the best mother. She was so blessed, Simon. Even if her time here was short.” Finding comfort in her own words, she could feel that her son didn’t feel the same way.
Shaking his head quickly, he swallowed down the lump in his throat and willed himself to pull his hand away. The hardest thing he’d ever done.
Margaret blew out before she pressed a shaken hand to her lips and rested it on Emily’s shoulder, “Come on, son.” She whispered once she’d said goodbye.
Stepping away, Simon’s eyes were fixated on her until the director pushed her back inside. He was unable to say anything as he was led out by his mother, who in turn glanced back at the man, “Thank you.” She said in a shaken tone.
As they walked towards the entrance, the sun filtered through the windows brightly and the hallway was illuminated in a soft, warm light. The day was beautiful just like Emily. Outside of the funeral home, Simon Sr. puffed on a cigarette and Miriam pulled away from Jack as they emerged. Margaret had tears in her eyes and a peaceful smile on her face as she nodded and approached her, “She’s beautiful. She’s perfect. She’s…everything right now.” She whispered. Miriam instantly took Margaret into her arms and the two women hugged each other tightly amid their sobs. Pulling away from her, Margaret held Miriam’s shoulders, “We will see you both at our house. Simon, we’re going to be at the house this evening, alright?” she asked turning back to Miriam, “We will meet you at our house as soon as we drop him off. See you soon.”
Simon nodded to his mother before he hugged Jack and Miriam goodbye. He didn’t say a word and that silence carried the entire ride back to his home. Though he was silent, there was a storm spinning violently inside of him. The closer they got to the house, a feeling of urgency grew in the pit of his stomach. He needed to see his kids and had a strong need to go to his family. To hide under the blanket of normalcy that he was able to obtain under his own roof.
Cherish had a busy couple of hours with the newborns. Now, that they were both fed, changed, and asleep, she could finally take care of herself. The door to the bathroom was wide open so she’d be able to check on them frequently during her shower. Even though she’d tried to stay busy, time crawled by and the knot in her stomach only grew. She just wanted Simon to be stable. Not okay, not alright, not good, great, or amazing. Just, stable.
Once his parents pulled into the driveway, Simon got out of the car and gave a rushed wave in their direction. He knew they planned to return to the house with Emily’s parents, but didn’t care. Cherish was in the middle of putting on clean clothes and sighed to herself in comfort. Putting his key into the door, he unlocked it and walked in the familiar smell of home. He didn’t bother to take off his shoes and simply went on the hunt to find the babies. After he’d checked the first floor, he climbed up the steps and entered his bedroom. There they were, just as perfect as he left them. They laid together in the middle of the bed and even though Jasmine was there, a small portion of him still expected Emily. Oddly, that’s not the one he knew would bring him comfort.
Cherish hadn’t heard him enter the house and it wasn’t until she appeared in the doorway did she see him. Practically jumping out of her skin, she swallowed her scream and leaned her head back. With a hand pressed to her chest, she hesitated before she approaching, “I…didn’t hear you come home.” She said.
Simon didn’t notice Cherish until she spoke. He had stared at the kids when she took him completely off guard. It wasn’t Emily’s voice and it never would be. Emily was no longer there. Finally, the pain, guilt, and suffering he’d pushed away hit him. Harder than the moment when she died or when he saw her lifeless body. The hole Emily left in his life was vacant and deep. He felt as though the floor was stolen away from under him. Every single emotion reeled brutally inside.
To Cherish, Simon looked far-off and strange. Almost as though he couldn’t hear her in his own headspace. The way he stared unnerved her and she sensed something was irrevocably different about the man she’d come to know in the last four days. Once again, she hesitated before she took a step towards him. Suddenly, she felt as though she was
in the wrong place. Like she shouldn’t have been there, in their home, in their bathroom, in their bed to begin with. She didn’t know what to say or what to do and was at a complete loss, “Simon, h-how was it? A-are you okay?” she asked in a concerned tone.
He opened his mouth to answer but not a sound came out. All she did was ask a simple question, but the shock had set in. Cherish was there as she had been before he left and the warmth he had hidden beneath was gone. He broke.
Her eyes widened as he advanced towards her suddenly. For a moment, she thought something far more terrible happened and he’d lost himself in a blind rage. Her stomach sank as her entire body braced for him to strike. Instead, he grabbed her with his whole body. Clutching against the back of her shoulders, Simon sobbed deeply. He held her close and released his anguish into her collarbone. It all crashed down on him at once and he couldn’t hide any longer.
Cherish’s breath left her and she bent her arms beneath his shoulders and held him there fiercely. Her eyebrows tucked together with a troubled quiver and her lips curled down. His body shook, and his shoulders jumped with each deep breath he heaved. He imposed his weight onto her but that didn’t pull a complaint from this woman. Instead, she lowered herself to her knees with him before falling back on the floor. Holding him there, she did the only thing she could think of to help; rocked. There weren’t any false promises or generic words of sympathy that ultimately meant nothing in the end. Wriggling her arms from under him, instead she wrapped his head into her embrace and rested her cheek on top. Rocking back and forth, Cherish didn’t say a word and instead became the rock he needed, just as he was to her.