by Julie Allan
Dr. Roberts laid his hands on the thick file in front of him. “I am pleased to share that your test results are ideal. I see no evidence of cancer.”
Bennett exhaled and shook his head, “That is fantastic!”
Lizzie’s shoulders relaxed, and she beamed at Dr. Roberts. “Does this mean we’re done?”
Dr. Roberts nodded. “There is no need for further treatment. However, we will need to have a series of follow-up tests and appointments just to make sure we keep you in remission.”
Bennett grinned at Lizzie, “I think we can live with that!”
Lizzie hugged Dr. Roberts, and Bennett shook his hand. Lizzie and Bennett walked hand in hand out of the hospital and into the spring sunshine.
Bennett opened the car door for Lizzie. “I think we should go somewhere and get a celebratory drink.”
Lizzie got in and reached for her seat belt as Bennett closed the door. Once Bennett was behind the wheel, she responded. “I love that idea, but would you mind terribly if we went home and shared the good news with Aunt Dorothy? I really want to check on her. Then when the night aide comes, we could go to that new wine bar on Coleman for a drink.”
Bennett backed out of the parking space. “Absolutely! It would be the right thing to do. Plus, I really should call the family to tell them the good news.”
On the drive back home, Lizzie called M.A., while Bennett called his parents. Then Lizzie called Amy while Bennett called Ben and Jeremy. By the time they pulled into the driveway, Aunt Dorothy, Dot, and Sawyer were the only three left to tell.
Bennett turned off the car. “I think I’ll change, while you go tell Aunt Dorothy the good news.”
Lizzie hurried through the house and opened the door to the back porch. Aunt Dorothy was asleep, and Lizzie hesitated. Should I wake her up? She quietly moved closer to the chaise. Aunt Dorothy looked so peaceful, a slight smile on her lips. Lizzie’s eyes moved around the scene. How did her cup get knocked over? The blue willowware cup lay broken on the floor, a small puddle of tea remained.
Lizzie looked back at Aunt Dorothy. She was so still. Her left hand was hanging off the edge. Lizzie moved closer and laid her hand on Aunt Dorothy’s forehead. She was slightly damp and cool. She moved her hand onto Aunt Dorothy’s chest. There was no rise and fall of breath.
Lizzie was barely aware as her legs gave out beneath her and she fell to the floor beside Aunt Dorothy. She longed to call out to Bennett, but she could not find her voice. She picked up Aunt Dorothy’s drooping hand and held it to her cheek as the tears came tumbling out. Sweet, sweet Aunt Dorothy!
Lizzie sat there, her mind a jumble of memories and thoughts. She felt as if she were outside her body watching the scene unfolding, wishing to change it, but helpless to do so. She hated the idea that Aunt Dorothy had been alone. She was so glad to think their last words to each other had been words of love.
Lizzie sat up on her knees and studied Aunt Dorothy’s face. Yes, she definitely is smiling. I hope that means she was greeted by Uncle George, and all is well. Lizzie knew this day was coming, but she was still unprepared. It seemed particularly unfair to lose her at the same time she had life with Bennett back.
Lizzie found her way to her feet. Silent tears still trickling down her cheeks. She bent down and carefully picked up the broken cup and set it on the table. She adjusted the blanket around Aunt Dorothy’s feet and was struck by the absurdity of it.
Gradually, her mind quieted, and she concentrated on her heart. Lizzie began to pray and as she did she felt Aunt Dorothy’s spirit within her. She knew the love between them would continue on. Lizzie understood at that moment that the passing of the body could never take away that love. At that moment she found her voice and called for Bennett.
Chapter 18
The church was packed. The overflow was directed to the parish hall where they could follow the service on a closed-circuit television. If you had arrived early and peeked in the sanctuary, you would think a wedding, not a funeral, was getting ready to take place. Flowers not only draped the altar, they were also tied to the end of each pew, and two flower-filled urns flanked the doors. There were roses, daisies, lilies, and irises. Lizzie had gone all out to make sure Aunt Dorothy’s favorites were present.
Aunt Dorothy had made funeral plans months before her passing and Lizzie was determined to follow it to the letter. She had arranged, per Aunt Dorothy’s wishes, for the altar guild members to deliver the flowers after the funeral to shut-ins, nursing homes, and hospitals.
There was so much of Aunt Dorothy in this place. She was one of a handful of women who completed all the needlework on the kneelers. She had been a member of the altar guild for over fifty years and had taught countless women the art of flower arranging.
Lizzie sat in the small sitting room off of the vestibule with Bennett and the children, waiting for the funeral to begin. She had sat in this room only three times before. First as a bride, when she married her first husband. Lizzie had been so nervous that morning. That should have been a clue. Her mind jumped to the end of that marriage and sitting here before Uncle George’s funeral. She was pleased to think of Aunt Dorothy with him again. She gazed over to the settee where Bennett was distracting the children with funny videos on his phone. The last time she had been in this room was before she walked down the aisle to Bennett. Lizzie had not been nervous at all, just filled with joy and excitement. Aunt Dorothy had given her an antique pearl bracelet that afternoon. Lizzie had taken care to wear it and fingered it with the reverence one might give rosary beads. Reverend Truett entered, and the family members joined him in a circle for prayer. It was time to say goodbye.
Lizzie, Bennett, Dot, and Sawyer walked behind the casket to the hymn, “Love Divine, All Loves Excelling.” The music and the singing lifted their spirits and carried them to the front pew. Lizzie sat with Bennett on one side, and Dot on the other. Sawyer sat on the other side of Bennett, and each of them held hands with the person next to them. Dot held a box of tissues on her lap.
The mourners followed along with “The Burial of the Dead: Rite two” in the Book of Common Prayer. Lizzie bowed her head and made responses at the appropriate times. It wasn’t until the speakers stood at the lectern to share their memories and offer their thoughts on Aunt Dorothy that she began to feel connected to the service. She nodded, laughed and cried as friends and family stood and spoke.
Reverend Truett, who had buried Uncle George and married Lizzie and Bennett delivered one of the most heartfelt eulogies she had ever heard. Afterward, the mourners stood and sang out “Amazing Grace,” Lizzie wondered if Aunt Dorothy was truly okay. Perhaps she was singing along with a choir of angels. As if in answer to her thoughts, a ray of sun burst through the window closest to their pew and bathed the family in light.
Dot leaned in and rested her head on Lizzie’s shoulder. “I think Aunt Dorothy is happy.”
Lizzie squeezed Dot’s hand, “I think you’re absolutely right.”
They followed behind the casket for the recessional to Aunt Dorothy’s favorite hymn, “Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee,” Lizzie held Sawyer’s hand and looked ahead at the casket balanced on the shoulders of Scott, Jim, Jeremy, Ben, Charlie, and Chris, the husband of one of Aunt Dorothy’s dear friends.
The ritual of the funeral was masterful in making goodbye official. For many of the mourners, Aunt Dorothy would linger in their memories, but the retreat of the casket would mark the beginning of their moving on. Lizzie knew from experience that for the nuclear family, the hard work of grieving was just beginning. Yes, they would go through the motions of normalcy, quite quickly as they had the children to consider. However, the undercurrent of loss would frame everything moving forward, for a long time to come. Lizzie also knew that one day without realizing it, she would complete twenty-four hours without a flash of memory or pain. The first time that would happen, she would feel guilt. Then it would seem normal. Finally, life would move on with memories surprising her now and again. As Lizz
ie watched the funeral directors take the casket from the pall bearers so they could take it on to the cemetery, all she could register were the shards that stabbed at her chest where her heart used to be.
The women of the church had outdone themselves with refreshments. Since the hall had to be used for the overflow, they had set the tables up on the lawn. Lizzie, Bennett, Dot, and Sawyer stood in a receiving line and hugged or shook hands with every mourner. Lizzie drew strength from the kind words that were offered.
Two hours later, they were on the way to the graveside service with a smaller group of family and close friends. There was something so final about the lowering of the casket in the ground. Dot sobbed uncontrollably, and Lizzie felt pain doubly. She ached for Aunt Dorothy, and she ached that she could do nothing to assuage Dot’s grief, it was a part of life she had to learn.
Family and friends joined them back at the house where Amy and Scott had arranged a catered supper. They gathered around and shared their favorite memories of Aunt Dorothy. Faith was a life saver, keeping Dot occupied and Jeremy did the same for Sawyer. Bennett constantly checked to make sure Lizzie had what she needed or gave her a pat or a kiss as he circulated among their guests. It was nice to have him back in the role of protector.
By the time everyone left, they were all exhausted. Bennett shepherded the kids to bed, and Lizzie found herself in Aunt Dorothy’s room. She closed her eyes and let the events of the day play through her mind.
Bennett entered the room, quietly walking to the bed. He lay a hand on Lizzie’s shoulder. “Lizzie, are you awake?”
Lizzie could barely hear him. She opened her eyes and smiled. “Yes, I was just thinking about the day.”
Bennett walked around and got up on the other side of the bed. “It seems so surreal. I mean we knew it would happen sooner, rather than later, but I wasn’t quite prepared.”
Lizzie nodded. “I am beginning to realize we can never be prepared for things like this, no matter how we try. I just can’t picture how life is going to be without her in it every day.”
Bennett pulled Lizzie over to him. “She is in every floorboard and wall in this house, not to mention in you and me, and the kids, for that matter.”
Lizzie sighed, “I am grateful for that, and I’m so glad we accepted her offer to move in here with us. The kids had always spent time with her, but living under one roof gave them so much more. Especially for Dot. I loved watching Aunt Dorothy teacher her how to cook.”
Bennett kissed Lizzie on her forehead. “The blessings of Aunt Dorothy will last a lifetime for all of us.”
They lay there, feeling close to Aunt Dorothy and each other. The repairs to Lizzie’s heart were imperceptible, but there was no doubt the re-piecing had begun.
The next few weeks passed in a fog for Lizzie. Every morning she had to fight to get up. Her mind and body wanted to stay in bed and retreat from the world. Bennett had indulged her a couple of days of that. Then he gently pushed her to re-engage with the kids and daily routine.
Bennett and the kids instinctively gave her what she needed to begin processing the loss and at the same time draw closer as a family. They had endured so much the last few months. Lizzie knew now nothing could ever break the bonds between them. They were each stronger from their shared experiences. That resilience would shape Dot and Sawyer for years to come. What pleased Lizzie most was the effect it had on the family as a unit. Love was stronger than anything.
Most days, once she was up and in the routine, she was always surprised by how it was easier than she thought. She had neglected her responsibilities with The Biscuit Box when Bennett had gotten sick and now that she did not need to be home for Aunt Dorothy, she was back to spending part of each day in the shop, still making sure she was home for all the after school activities.
The spring season for the kids almost took a master’s degree in scheduling to handle. They were handling their grief well. School, piano, sports and Dot’s newest passion—theatre lessons—kept their minds occupied. It was only at the supper table or when they passed the door to Aunt Dorothy’s room that she could see that the grief still affected them. No one sat in Aunt Dorothy’s chair, and no one talked about Aunt Dorothy’s room, and if and when they would transform it back to a den.
Lizzie had kept up the ritual of afternoon tea, but despite the pleasant spring weather, she opted for sitting in front of the windows in Aunt Dorothy’s room instead of the porch. In the last week of April, as she sipped her tea, she knew it was time to start cleaning out the room.
She began with the impersonal items—medicine, toothpaste, shampoo—but she could not bring herself to dispose of her perfume. Lizzie knew it was not a scent she would wear, but she enjoyed removing the cap just to inhale a bit. Next, she concentrated on Aunt Dorothy’s clothes and donating them, keeping a few of the cardigans for herself. She transferred Aunt Dorothy’s jewelry upstairs to intermingle with her own. The more personal the items, the harder it became and it took her over a week to do it. Now came the difficult task of removing the bedroom furniture and figuring out what to do with the space. Lizzie rejected the idea of turning it back into a den. She had visions of the kids hanging out in one room and leaving her with Bennett in the other. One living room was enough; it kept them together as a family. Bennett agreed with her.
He suggested that she turn it into an office and retreat for herself. The existing home office was small, and there were times they both wanted to use it to work from home. Often, it meant Lizzie found herself spreading her things out across the kitchen table. Lizzie liked that idea. Besides the kitchen and the porch, it was the room where she felt closest to Aunt Dorothy. Plus, there would not be much to change. The bed and the nightstands would go along with the dresser. Those she moved up to the guest room, donating the old set with no sentimental value to charity. She added a desk and upholstered chair, along with a credenza with file storage. She also added a love seat and a coffee table. She kept the chairs and ottoman by the window. When she sat there with her tea, she closed her eyes and imagined Aunt Dorothy sitting in the chair next to her. For a brief moment, when she opened her eyes, she saw her there. A trick of the mind but comforting all the same.
Gradually, the family started calling it Mama’s office. It also became the place when anyone in the family needed time alone they could retreat to, when weather didn’t warrant a walk down to the dock. Lizzie imagined that would tickle Aunt Dorothy. Each day that passed the family grew used to her absence, but she was never far from their thoughts.
May had begun, the magnolias were budding and the end of the school year was fast approaching. Lizzie stood at the kitchen window gazing out as she washed up a bowl she had used in her supper preparations. She could see Dot sitting down on the dock, and she could tell by the hunch of her shoulders she was struggling with something. Lizzie checked the time, then put the lasagna in the oven.
Lizzie walked down to the dock and sat down next to Dot. She had learned that sitting in silence would eventually lead Dot to spill her thoughts. Lizzie was prepared to wait her out. The view over the water was spectacular. The late afternoon sunshine accentuated the spring green of the marsh grasses. The sky and water melded together in the distance, only the blinding sparkle on the water distinguished one from the other. Lizzie inhaled. The heady mix of salt air and pluff mud never failed to soothe. These were the constants of lowcountry life. The seasons might alter the color of the grasses or how the water danced with the light, but this scene before her was the essence of home.
Dot sighed as if she too had the same connection. “Mama, do you think about Aunt Dorothy all the time?”
Lizzie shifted her gaze away from the water and to her daughter’s face. The tear tracks wet Dot’s cheeks were almost too much to bear. Her own grief tore into her anew. “I think of her multiple times a day, but not all the time. I know she wouldn’t want me to. Do you?”
Dot wiped her cheek with her arm. “No, I sometimes feel guilty when I get to bedtime
and realize I haven’t thought about her all day.”
Lizzie nodded, “That’s normal, and you shouldn’t feel guilty about that. Aunt Dorothy would want you to be happy and soaking up every minute of life.”
“She would want you to do the same.”
“Yes, she would, and I’m trying very hard to honor that. Dot, I will tell you something I’ve learned. Not just from Aunt Dorothy’s death, but from your daddy’s battle with cancer. Life truly is a gift, and we can’t squander the days we’re given.”
Dot slid closer to Lizzie. “Did I tell you it was Aunt Dorothy who told me I should try out for the drama group?”
No, when did she do that?”
“One day last January when we were cooking. I was telling her all about it and how I thought it would be so cool. She told me I should just do it, the worst that could happen was I didn’t like it.”
Lizzie smiled, the picture of Dot and Aunt Dorothy with their heads together over a kitchen task was one of her favorite memories of the last few months. “Aunt Dorothy had a way of helping to solve problems or get you to agree to new things in the kitchen.”
“She told me, the two of you used to talk things over as you cooked together.”
Lizzie reached out and put her arm around Dot. “Yes, I learned more, and I grew more as a person in that kitchen than anywhere else.”
“Is that why you like to get me to cook with you?”
“That, and the fact I really do enjoy spending time with you. I like to think someday you will look at your time in the kitchen with me the way I look at my kitchen time with Aunt Dorothy.”