“Does this look okay?” she asked.
“You hate that dress.”
“Kris is wearing hers.”
Holly started to cry, and as much as I wanted to squelch my own urge to do the same, I couldn’t stop myself. Before we knew it, Mom was in my room holding the both of us and trying to soothe us the best she could.
“I know, I know,” she said.
“Why did God do that, Mom?” Holly asked. “Why did he take her? She was so little—she didn’t deserve this.”
“Holly, Kris was very sick. From the very first day. She was born that way. There just wasn’t much anyone could do for her.”
I slipped out her grasp and dropped to the bed. “You knew? You knew she was going to die?”
Mom brushed a tear from my face. “No one knew for sure, but the doctors told me that, considering the severity of her problems, we probably shouldn’t expect—“
“Why didn’t you tell us?” I screamed.
“I wanted Kris’s life to have as much normalcy as possible. And I guess I was holding out for a miracle. I didn’t want to say anything to anyone until we knew something for sure. Of course the doctors wouldn’t commit one way or another. I just didn’t want you to be living with the same sadness I was living with.”
“We could have lived with it together.”
“We loved her together, Sandy. That’s what was important. Because of you two, Kris was the happiest little sister ever. I couldn’t have asked for more. Now, the two of you get dressed. We should be leaving in about an hour. I’ll make some eggs. It’s going to be a long day.”
“Mom,” I called as she turned to leave.
“Yes, honey.”
“Will every day be this bad?”
She paused in the doorway and seemed to brace herself on its frame.
“For awhile, yes,” she answered. “As time goes by, it will be a little easier. You’ll never forget, but that’s not a bad thing because eventually we’ll recall the happy times more often. And we’ll remember how happy she made us and how happy we made her. That’s what will stay with us forever. It will get better. Understand, honey?”
I didn’t really because the wounds were still fresh and I couldn’t see a day that would ever be different than the one we were living in at the moment. But I had to consider that she probably knew what she was talking about. After all, she had experienced the loss before. Only the child didn’t die and she was living only forty-five minutes away from our house.
Chapter 18
I can’t remember much about the car ride to the church except that no one was doing much talking. Somehow it seemed odd, as I watched the traffic around us, that life seemed to be carrying on as usual for everyone but us. A carful of children obviously on their way to a swimming pool or the water park in Sunset Valley passed us twice. Their world is the same today as it was yesterday, I thought, and ours had tragically and abruptly changed forever. Shouldn’t they know? Are we grieving alone? Don’t they realize that our baby has just died? Why does everyone else look so normal today?
As soon as we pulled into the driveway at the church, we saw Gran standing on the front steps motioning us to park in the space next to the one occupied by her car.
Like Mom and Dad, Gran looked drawn and spent. She reached Mom’s side of the car before Dad had come to a full stop and she opened the door before Mom had a chance to open it herself. I’ll never forget the look on Gran’s face. I knew she had to be heartbroken over losing Kris because certainly she loved her almost as much as we did. But I saw something else in her eyes, undoubtedly a deep sadness compounded by the extreme grief her daughter was experiencing. Even though each of us was experiencing this tragedy in his or her own way, it was apparent to me that this tragedy was a bonding experience shared in some significant way by the entire family.
Gran’s actions led me to think of Sarah. What was Gran’s part in that loss? Did anyone grieve? Do they talk about her? They have no sweet memories, I thought. Does Mom regret what she did? Do they wonder about Sarah?
Gran helped Mom out of the car and onto her feet. They embraced tightly; Gran was trying to soothe her daughter the way Mom had soothed Holly and me earlier in my bedroom. Dad rounded the front of the car and wrapped his arms around the both of them. Mom finally had a release and was sobbing uncontrollably, and Dad was having a hard time hiding his tears. Gran broke away when she noticed that Holly was in tears also.
“There, there,” she said softly as she held Holly close. She plucked a hanky from her purse and dabbed Holly’s eyes. “It’s okay to cry. Let’s go in before everyone gets here.”
If it hadn’t been for Gran’s suggestion, I don’t know how long we would have stayed in the parking lot crying. It seemed as though I couldn’t force myself to go into the building, and I’m sure the rest of the family felt the same way. This was it—our final good-bye, our baby gone forever, our lives to go on without her. I couldn’t imagine conceding to this horrific thought. How in the world does someone let go?
The viewing area was dimly lit. I noticed beautiful expensive furnishings situated throughout the room. It was an effort to keep myself balanced on such thick carpet. Holly grabbed my hand and we followed Mom, Dad, and Gran to Kris’s casket.
There she was. Beautiful and doll-like. Her face perfectly flawless, her lashes resting on her cheeks, her little hands caressing a single rose. And the beautiful blue dress she loved so much.
“Kris,” I whispered, “we’re wearing our blue dresses, too….”
I could feel Mom slide her arm around my shoulder.
“She would be so happy to know you’re all wearing your dresses.” She pointed to a picture on a small easel resting on the casket. “Mrs. Waters had it made from the pictures she took at the graduation party. Do you remember?”
I nodded my head but I couldn’t say anything. We simply looked at our baby until a man wearing a black suit approached us and informed us that the viewing for the public would begin within the next few minutes. He told us we had the option of remaining at the side of the casket, or retiring to the church parlor to await the service.
I was glad to get away. I knew that dealing with the mourners would simply be a replay of the last two days at the house when it seemed that everyone we knew, and some we didn’t, came by with food, flowers, and condolences. Another lengthy reminder, I was certain, that this nightmare was indeed very real.
Mom led the way, closely flanked by Dad and Gran. Holly and I were following a short distance behind when I noticed that Mrs. Harris and Jen were entering the church from a side door close to the parlor. Before Holly and I caught up with Mom and Dad, Mrs. Harris was at Mom’s side leading her into the parlor.
I was so glad to see Jen. Somehow she seemed to be the only stable constant in my life at that moment. I was looking forward to just being at her house, getting back to school, maybe even pretending that nothing had changed at my own house. At the moment, I was just grateful to see my best friend.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I told her.
“Me, too,” she said. “How’s your mom?”
“Not too good,” I answered. “I think we’re all having a hard time. We still can’t believe this is happening.”
“I have to tell you something.”
She pulled me away from the parlor doorway and led Holly and me to an alcove just down the hall.
“What about?” I asked.
“Sarah has been calling me. I told her about Kris. I hope that’s okay.”
“Sure,” I answered.
“Well, you haven’t e-mailed her and she’s hoping you haven’t forgotten about her, and—“
“What does she expect?” I said too loudly. “Kris has been sick and now she’s gone. Does Sarah really think I’m going to be e-mailing people right now? How could she be so selfish?”
“Wait a minute, Sandy,” Jen said. “Remember Kris was
her sister and how happy she was to meet Kris and Holly and you. Now she thinks that maybe she won’t have a chance to meet your mom.”
“Well, maybe she’s right,” I said contentiously. “Mom doesn’t want to meet her. She knows that. All we can think of right now is Kris.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have told you she’s been calling me,” she said as she looked downward.
“Jen, I’m sorry,” I told her. “I’m glad you told me. But she’s going to have to wait. Tell her that, okay? Mom is the important one right now.”
My feelings of anxiety regarding Sarah suddenly resurfaced. If she knew Kris had died, she undoubtedly also knew when the funeral would be held. What if she shows up here, I wondered. What if she takes this opportunity to speak to me, or worse, Mom? What would Dad do now that he knows what Sarah looks like? A tornado was spinning in my head. I was glad that Mom had elected to leave before the mourners started filing in to visit Kris’s casket, but I was anxious to know if Sarah was in the church.
I didn’t have to wait long.
Chapter 19
The same man in the black suit called for us at the parlor announcing that the guests were all seated. We were expected to be the last to enter the sanctuary where we would take our places on the front row. Mom invited Mrs. Harris and Jen to sit with us; I asked both Jen and Holly to scan the sanctuary for Sarah.
There were so many people in the pews, I didn’t think I would be able to see her even if I tried. But I didn’t have to look far. She was directly behind Mom but two rows back. I felt panicky and frankly a little irritated. She had to have known that I would be anxious about her being there. I tried to convince myself that surely she would do the right thing and keep her distance. But I knew that as soon as the service was over, we would all be invited to meet in the Fellowship Hall where a meal prepared by other church members would be waiting for us. I wondered if she would join us or do the sensible thing and leave.
As soon as the service began, I lost my focus on Sarah. The pastor reminded us of the blessing that Kris had been to everyone whose lives she had touched in the short time that God had lent her to us. I tried to concentrate on what he was saying, but my mind kept drifting to other places. I couldn’t to this day remember what else he said. My thoughts were scattered and my emotions were taking charge. Eventually, I realized that the service was ending when the pastor invited everyone to meet in the Fellowship Hall. I was afraid someone would ask me to stand and I wouldn’t be able to.
My anxiety escalated when I realized that the man in the black suit and his associates were directing the mourners to leave their pews, walk down to the front where Kris rested, and then past Mom and Dad and the rest of the family. Some of the mourners paused at Mom or Dad’s side and extended a hand or briefly embraced one of them or both. Oh, my gosh, I thought. What will Sarah do when it’s her turn to view Kris for the last time and then walk past Mom and Dad?
It seemed to take forever for the rows of people to file past us. When the people on Sarah’s row were invited to stand, I glanced at Jen and Holly.
“Here she comes,” I told Jen.
“I’m keeping my fingers crossed,” she whispered.
“Oh, boy,” Holly added.
Sarah approached the casket and paused for several seconds before turning away and walking toward Mom and Dad. I thought my heart was going to jump out of my throat when she reached for Mom’s hand. Dad looked my way, widened his eyes, and then turned to face Sarah. I heard him say, “Thank you for coming,” as he extended his hand. She had no choice but to release her grip on Mom and accept his handshake. I could see that he was leading her away from Mom’s space.
I had one of those I-think-I’m-going-to-throw-up moments, but it didn’t last long and a wave of relief passed over me. Within a few seconds, Sarah was out the door and I was able to breathe again.
After the last of the congregants were out of sight, the man in the black suit leaned over toward Mom and Dad and whispered something I couldn’t hear. He assisted Mom off the pew and led her to Kris’s casket. Dad and Gran followed. When Holly and I hesitated, Gran reached out to the two of us and encouraged us to stand to either side of Mom and Dad. She stepped back. It was our last moment together, the four of us gazing at our little angel, so still and quiet. There are times when a memory remains forever etched in the mind—I knew that this was one of those moments.
I’m not sure how long we lingered but Mom was the first to return to the front pew. She sat down for a few minutes while the rest of our family, including Gran, paid their last respects and then started filing out of the sanctuary.
After a few minutes, she said, “I guess we should go.”
Dad put his hands on hers. “We can stay as long as you want.”
“No, let’s go. Everyone will be waiting for us.”
I’m not sure what was going through her mind at that time, but I knew what was going through mine. I wanted this nightmare to end. I was past fantasizing that this tragedy had never happened. I simply wanted to jump ahead a few months where, I was told, the passing of time would soften the wrenching heartache I was feeling at that moment.
When we reached the Fellowship Hall, almost everyone was already seated and eating. There was a low hum of conversation along with the usual clinking of silverware against dishes. A group of men in the serving line were chuckling as if one of them had said something funny. Such a normal looking scene, life going on as usual, a casual lunch among a group of people we just happened to know. These were the same people who gathered with us for the Wednesday evening meal every week prior to Wednesday evening services. But someone was missing. Our baby was on her way to the cemetery where a private burial service would be held only for her family.
By the time Mom had reached the serving line, I felt as though an explosion was bursting within me. I simply could not stand another minute of this reality. I tugged on Gran’s sleeve and told her I was leaving to use the bathroom.
“Don’t be too long, honey,” she said. She tucked her fingertips under my chin and asked, “Are you okay?”
I nodded my head slightly but I wasn’t sure I had convinced her. I could feel the tears coming at any minute, so I broke away from her and bolted for the door.
It was hot outside. The sun was shining and I could hear children playing and laughing in a yard close by. I took a deep breath and leaned against the brick wall just outside the door. I thought I was alone but then I sensed someone approaching me.
“Sandy,” she called out. “I have to talk to you.”
I turned toward the voice. “Sarah,” I said, “you shouldn’t have come here.”
“Jen told me what happened to Kris. I was—I’m so sorry. I couldn’t stay away.”
“You have to leave before Mom finds out,” I insisted.
“If it hadn’t been for you, Sandy, I would never have met Kris. I had fifteen minutes of her life in my arms that day in that toy store and—“
“You have to go,” I interrupted.
“I fell in love with her. I think she would have liked me, but I’ll never know….”
Well, there was no point in imploring her to leave because, in the first place, she wasn’t listening to a word I was saying, and even if she had, I could tell that the pull that was keeping her there was stronger than anything I could do. The desperation on her face and in her words had me feeling sympathetic but I had to remember that Mom was only steps away.
“Sarah, listen. My dad knows about you. We told him after he met you at the toy store. I’ll talk to him, and we’ll see what we can do. Mom is so fragile right now. You must know that.”
She nodded her head as she dried her tears with her sleeve. “I do,” she said.
“Only the family is going to the cemetery, okay? You can’t come. Please tell me you won’t.”
“I won’t,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry, Sandy. I didn’t mean to cause
any trouble. My mom is waiting for me in the car. We’ll go right now.”
“Your mom is here?” I screamed.
“I told her everything. Don’t worry—she won’t get involved, I promise. She’s a good person. Will you call me, e-mail me?”
“I can’t tell you when, but I’ll try.”
She hugged me tightly, but quickly, and then ran to a car that pulled up just feet away from us. After I looked around to make sure no one was watching, I scurried back into the building. I can’t wait until this day is over, I thought.
Chapter 20
The next week or so, our family of now four stayed in the house, somewhat protected by the cocoon we had woven around ourselves. Gran kept visitors to a minimum; Dad, Mom, and we girls stayed upstairs almost solidly that entire time. We talked, cried, shared our grief, and wondered how in the world life would ever get back to normal. Gran said it would, but I didn’t believe her.
“You have to go on,” she said. “Cherish your memories, but live your lives.”
And she was determined that we should. Exactly two weeks after Kris’s funeral, she suggested a trip to the water park in Sunset Valley. Holly and I were willing, but we weren’t sure Mom and Dad were up to it.
We were wrong. Mom thought it was a good idea, and Dad said he was ready to get out of the house.
The park was incredibly crowded. I didn’t want to see anyone we knew. It would have been harder to pretend that we were doing what everyone else was doing, escaping the heat. Instead, we were getting away from the misery we were all feeling, if only for a few hours. It felt good. No one there knew. We could pretend to be as happy and carefree as anyone else there.
At about midmorning, Mom and Gran stopped by one of the restrooms in the park leaving Holly, Dad, and me at one of the picnic tables in the restaurant section. Holly was hungry so Dad said he would check out the fast foods. Shortly after he left, Holly moved from the other side of the table and sat down next to me.
“Well, what are we going to do?” she asked.
I didn’t have to ask her what she meant because I already knew. Sarah was on my mind as well, but I honestly had no idea what direction we should take. I was still unsure of Dad’s stand on this issue so I wasn’t convinced we could count on him to help us. I certainly couldn’t look at the situation from his perspective though I figured it would be very hard for a man to embrace the idea that his wife, before they married, had a past that involved a child that wasn’t his.
Are You My Sister? an adoption story Page 6