Carrig Of Dromara

by Frances McCaughey

  “What about the funeral? I must go down and help with the arrangements for that.”

  “Mum and Dad are taking the phone calls and making a list of all the people who rang, and you won’t believe the things left on the front doorstep – tins of cakes and flowers with beautiful messages of sympathy. Carrig, there is something I want to ask you.”

  “What’s that?”

  They looked into each other’s eyes and she spoke softly to him: “Can you face coming over to the cottage with me? When you have something to eat maybe we could go together and get some of your clothes.”

  The busyness of the morning took his mind off the tragedy for a few moments and he was able to think about what had to be done regarding arrangements for the burial, etc.

  After breakfast both Carrig and Louise walked slowly towards the cottage.

  Elenor took note of all the folks who called at the house and left flowers and cake tins filled with baking. She carefully recorded all the names and phone numbers of those who left gifts for Carrig.

  As the family sat down to dinner that evening, Dennis asked, “What are we going to do about the folks in Ireland – Martha and John McNeill and Dr Martin? They won’t know anything about the accident.”

  “Oh well,” Elenor sighed, “we’ll just have to leave that to Carrig to decide when to tell them.”

  Just then the door upstairs opened and Louise and Carrig came downstairs hand in hand and sat down slowly at the table with the others.

  Dennis started to speak first. He said, “It’ll take a long time, Carrig, to adjust to the loss of your parents, but just now we have to talk about arrangements for the funeral. We’ll have dinner first and then we’ll all sit down round the table and decide what is best to do next.”

  Dennis Russel was known as a gruff and angry man who was generally avoided by most folks. He had learned to survive by closing his mind to the niceties of life, working hard on his farm and keeping himself to himself. The shock of the sudden death of these two lovely people who had worked so hard on his farm affected him to the point where he felt the impulse to change his behaviour, not only to his wife but to everyone around him. Every time he felt the urge to swear or say something offensive to another person, he would stop and take a deep breath and think about something else for a while. After doing this a few times he suddenly realised that indeed there was another way to converse with other human beings without offending them or hurting their feelings, and so he continued his new-found therapy without telling anyone about it. He was thinking to himself, ‘How interesting it would be to shake off the old image and slowly become an ordinary person, who people can converse with! And, who knows, my devoted wife, who has withstood my angry outbursts over the years, may even get to truly love me again, like it used to be!’

  Over the following days, the awful news of the tragic accident spread far and wide. The newspapers wanted to interview Carrig, but Elenor Russel put her foot down.

  “Absolutely not!” she said when approached by a reporter at the front door. “The young man is not in any state to talk to anyone, and it will be some time before he comes to terms with the death of his parents.”

  “Of course, we understand. Perhaps later on, when things settle down?”

  “Well, I can’t say how long that will be. Perhaps in the future, but for now he is in our care and we will do everything we can to protect him.”

  Louise put the kettle on as she spoke: “Would anyone like a cup of tea?”

  Mrs Russel took a cake tin from the pantry shelf and sliced the cake, placing it on the table.

  Carrig spoke to them all: “I don’t know how to thank you all for your kindness to me since the accident. The reality of the situation has begun to sink in now, and I know I have to face the fact that, each day when I wake up, Mum and Dad have gone. Now we must prepare to have them buried.”

  Dennis spoke first: “We have been devastated at the loss of Peter and Annie, and believe me we understand what you have been going through. Our hearts go out to you, and we will stand by you until you decide what you want to do. There is a lot to sort out, but the first thing is the funeral. Now, what sort of funeral shall we have?”

  Carrig spoke quietly at first: “Maybe we could ring and ask Reverend Orr what to do first. Would you like to speak to him, Mrs Russel?”

  “Certainly, Carrig. I will call him as soon as I finish my tea and we’ll go from there.”

  “Eleven o’clock, Tuesday morning? I’ll just speak to Carrig – hold on, please. What do you think, Carrig?”

  “Yes, that’s fine, thank you.”

  “Right, the advertisement will have to go into the paper this morning.”

  She reached into her desk and found a notebook and pen to write, ‘Anderson, Peter Robert and Annie Elizabeth, the result of an accident on Friday 14th December,’ etc., etc., etc.

  Carrig arose to the harsh reality that today he would witness the burial of his beloved parents. The young man had cried so much that it seemed he had no tears left. He went through the motions of eating breakfast, having a shower and dressing as usual.

  “Would it be all right if I wear my school uniform?”

  “Yes, of course, Carrig. I’ll give it a press for you if you like. I know how creased trousers can get at school.”

  “Can we go over to the cottage now, and I’ll get a clean shirt and the rest of my clothes?”

  Elenor couldn’t believe how calm he was, but she went along with it for now, and was prepared to deal with any change which came her way.

  “Louise, will you go with Carrig, please, over to the cottage?”

  The three slowly walked towards the cottage.

  “I’ll just unlock the door and you two can find what Carrig needs.”

  “All right, Mum.”

  The pair walked cautiously into the silence of the cottage. Carrig stopped by the table and picked up a cup and saucer, placing them carefully back. Then, touching his dad’s slippers, his eyes welled up again with tears. He walked slowly towards his bedroom and began to find underclothes and shirts. Louise followed softly, every now and again touching his arm gently when she saw signs of him breaking down again. He placed his shoes and socks into a bag slowly, and bit by bit he managed to find everything he needed. Louise reminded him to take his toothbrush and other things he might need from the bathroom. Louise followed him in silence, feeling all his pain with him, knowing exactly what he was going through.

  “Let me carry something, and you can fill another bag if you like.”

  “Can you come into Mum and Dad’s bedroom with me, please? I don’t think I can face it alone.”

  “Certainly, Carrig, I’ll come with you.”

  Carrig slowly turned the handle of the door and stood for some time staring at the bed where his parents had spent their last night together. The nicely smoothed cover on the bed reminded him how his mother always liked everything to be neat and tidy.

  “Dad would have helped her make the bed, one on either side. I can see them now smoothing out the cover before picking up the clothes to be washed. I loved them so much – no one will ever know how much I loved them. I know I will see them again. This is what’s keeping me going, knowing that I will see them again.” Turning to Louise, Carrig spoke softly: “I know that you understand what I mean. You do know, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Carrig. I’ve never really given much thought to the afterlife; I never mention seeing people who have died, again, but I realise how much comfort it would give someone who has lost a loving family. I can understand how much your faith means to you, Carrig, especially at this time; and yes, you will see them again. I believe that with all my heart.”

  Hundreds of people attended the funeral. The wee church was full to capacity. The two ministers stood, one on either side of the door. Carrig bravely stood beside the Reverend
Orr and shook hands with everyone as they came along, thanking them for coming. Some of the women hugged him and wept. The long file of people soon filled the wee church and most of the people had to stay outside. Fortunately the loudspeaker could be heard clearly, so all could hear the words spoken. Emotions ran high. Carrig seemed to be unusually restrained, finding an inner strength to carry him through the day. His right hand was never far from his left shoulder.

  “I’m worried about him,” Louise whispered to her mother.

  Elenor patted her daughter’s hand. “No, Carrig will be all right – you’ll see.”

  The newspaper photographers were there, taking pictures of the crowds of people and of course Carrig as he left the church with the Russel family.

  Elenor had arranged a lunch in the church hall, and everyone shared experiences they’d had with Peter and Annie.

  The coffins were gently transferred to the stands and the pall-bearers lined up on either side, ready to take a handle each. Mr Russel and Wally were at the front, and Carrig was placed towards the back to make it even. The old hymn ‘Abide with Me’ seemed a fitting one to play as they walked slowly down the aisle of the wee church. Once again, the weeping began and there wasn’t a dry eye to be seen.

  Neighbours had volunteered to carry the second coffin, which was Peter’s and heavier. The sadness of seeing the two coffins sitting on the grass beside the open graves on this beautiful day was almost too much to bear. The burial service was short, as Carrig had requested, and so they were lowered into the ground one after the other, side by side. Carrig stood on, long after everyone had gone, his tears falling into the grave.

  “Thank you both for all you have taught me. I’ll never forget. I’ll remember you always and love you, until I see you again.”

  Louise and Freddie moved over to him, one on either side, and holding him close the three walked towards the hall.

  “Thank you both for being there for me. I don’t know how I’d have managed without your strength and support.”

  “That’s what friends are for, Carrig. We’ll always be together,” Freddie said as they made their way towards the hall.

  People were stopping and chatting to Carrig. Some of the boys from school had attended as well as neighbours and friends. Many were people Carrig didn’t even know; there were many he’d never even seen before.

  The police sergeant and the Doctor came over and shook his hand, as did many others, some who knew his father but that he had not met. Mrs Russel had made sure the photographers had gone, and people were beginning to disperse and things were becoming quieter again.

  The headmaster came up to Carrig and shook his hand. “What a lovely service, Carrig! What a great send-off for a wonderful couple!”

  “Thank you, sir. I’m so glad you were able to come.”

  “I’m glad I came too, and some of the senior boys were given permission to attend also.”

  “Thank you again, sir.”

  Carrig made his way towards Freddie, who put his arms around him again, and again they cried together. Freddie, as well as Carrig, had to come to terms with the loss of two friends, and, like so many people in the district who were close to his parents, he had to bear the loss with Carrig.

  “There’s food in the hall.” Elenor tried to distract so many people from crowding around him. “Just help yourselves to sandwiches and cake. Just help yourselves to tea or coffee.”

  Louise and Elenor tried to manoeuvre Carrig to the quiet corner at the back of hall, where Wally and Mrs Watson had kept two seats for them, and for a while they had some peace and quiet to enjoy their tea and cake.

  “Now, if we can just keep this going long enough while Carrig and the others have a break then the rest might not be so bad.”

  “He’s doing so well,” Elenor said. “I’m really proud of him – the way he’s handled the whole thing. The wee soul must really be in torment when he stops to think what he has lost.”

  The crowd dispersed slowly over the next half-hour or so, and the family made their way home again. The silence in the house was so eerie, but it was good just to relax again. Carrig slept until almost dinner time before stirring. There seemed to be a certain relief now that the burial was over and he could move on, coming to terms with his loss.

  The weeks ahead were taken up by invitations from all sorts of people, including some Carrig didn’t know all that well – people who just wanted to share in his recovery. Some had gone through similar things and wanted to share how they dealt with their situation; others were just curious to know all the morbid details of how his parents were killed. Carrig was becoming quite astute at assessing situations, and he politely explained that he would like to quietly mourn the loss of his parents in the quietness of home.

  “Can somebody give me a hand sorting out this pile of mail?” Elenor stood in the middle of the floor with a bundle of packages and envelopes.

  “They’re not all for me, surely!” Carrig sat bewildered at the end of the table.

  “Well, most of them seem to have your name on them, Carrig, and really you should first open them and then we can sort them out.”

  “I’ve got a good idea,” Louise piped up: “we should first sort them into piles, one for Carrig and one for us. Look, Mum, there’s a Christmas card for you and Dad.”

  “So it is – from the Grahams. And look, here’s one for you, dear.” She passed the envelope to her daughter.

  Carrig managed to start a pile for himself, and they were all kept busy for the afternoon reading the letters and cards of sympathy from people, many of whom no one knew.

  Hours later they had come to the end of reading all the letters and cards. Some were from local folk who just wanted to show their concern for the young man who was now an orphan at fifteen years old, and had not a soul to call his own, with no family left in all the world. It was a sobering thought that now he must rely on strangers to support him through this period of his young life. What sustained him most was the knowledge that he had made some great friends in the past years, who were now there for him. There were no better people than old Wally and his lovely wife, Elenor Russel and Louise and Freddie, and even Dennis – yes, grumpy old Dennis. Carrig wondered how it might have been had he not had a collection of good people around him.

  “What do you want to do about answering them all?”

  Carrig sighed. “Well, I think instead of writing to every last one I will send a letter to the paper, expressing how I feel.”

  “What a brilliant idea!” Louise said. “I think that’s a great solution, and everyone can read about how you’re feeling.” Gathering all the mail into a box, she added, “You may like to keep these letters for later on, when you can read them again.”

  Carrig spent the afternoon composing a letter. He asked Louise to read it over and suggest any changes.

  “I wouldn’t change a thing, Carrig – honestly.”

  “Are you sure I haven’t left anything out?”

  “I’m sure. It’s great as it is. I wouldn’t change a word, really.”

  The letter was posted and with it a note requesting that it be printed as soon as possible in the paper.

  The last few weeks of the holidays were spent clearing out the cottage and sorting the furniture and things. Lots of tears were shed and there was even some laughter as Carrig thought of silly things his dad or mum had said in the past. Everything was boxed up and stored in the blue shed.

  “I’ll give you this key, Carrig, and if there is anything you want, just come and go as you please. The car is all right where it is, in the garage next door to the shed. Maybe you can talk to Dennis about that when you have time.”

  “Thank you again for everything you’ve done to help me through this.”

  “All we need now is a bit of time, Carrig, and the burden will be easier to bear – you’ll see.
Just let me know when you’re ready to talk to Martha and Alex in Ireland. Then we’ll pick a time to tell them, when you’re ready.”

  Christmas passed quietly, with a lovely dinner shared by everyone. Mr Dennis even said a lovely grace before the meal, and Louise and Carrig washed the dishes for Mrs Russel as she sat and shared a glass of wine with His Lordship in the lounge. The pair of them dozed off where they sat, and Carrig, Andrew and Louise decided to go down towards the river for a walk. It was a lovely day and the three sat and talked together for some time before returning to the house. Carrig spent the afternoon reading a book which Louise had given him for Christmas, and the others played a game in the dining room. Things were going to be hard for the rest of the holidays, especially at weekends, without Andrew and Louise, but he had Wally and the pigs to look after, so that was something.

  Everything seemed so strange when he found himself in a group of boys laughing and talking about how they spent their holidays.

  “We went up to Kaikoura, fishing with my uncle, and one of my cousins fell in at a really deep spot. He had to be rescued by a lifeguard,” one boy was telling the group.

  “How did he fall in? Was it slippy?”

  “No, he just went too near the edge and lost his balance. Next thing, we saw him disappear under the water. My uncle dived in, but he couldn’t find him, and then the coastguard came and rescued both of them. They had to go to the hospital and be checked out, but they were OK.”

  “Did you catch any fish?” another boy asked.

  “No, but we did see whales jumping out of the water.”

  Carrig stepped back from the crowd and sat down on the wall nearby, thinking to himself that the deaths of his parents was yesterday’s news and everyone had moved on.

  This was one of the bitter lessons the young man had to learn, but no one could take his personal thoughts away from him. They were his, to deal with in whichever way he thought fit.

  Slowly over the next few months he became more integrated in school life again, and yet at times, especially when he was alone, he would concentrate on thinking about his parents, and he’d go over and over the things they had done together as far back as he could remember.