Where Yesterday Lives (41 page)

Jane and Troy held hands and kept the children from running around. When Ellen and Mike approached and continued past them, Troy raised an eye at his wife.

“When, Jane?” he whispered.

“Later.” She looked away. “I’ll talk to her after the funeral.”

Megan was standing next to their mother, and Jane saw her sister was shivering despite the fact that the sun was breaking through the clouds. Several feet away Aaron stood closest to the hearse, arms crossed, feet spread apart as he stared at the casket through his dark glasses.

Nearby, Frank put his arm around Amy as she leaned on him for support. She looked nervous and Jane wondered whether her youngest sister would hold up.

“Okay, everyone. Why don’t you come in and take a seat,” the coordinator said as she appeared momentarily at the door of the church and then vanished again.

Their mother motioned for the others to follow her. When they were huddled together inside the front of the church, she looked intently at their faces.

“I’d like you five to sit together in the front row with me.” She pointed to a wooden pew that was easily long enough for ten people.

Jane started to roll her eyes, then caught herself. She stared at the ground instead.

“You mean I can’t sit with Frank?” Amy sounded frightened.

“The men can sit in the row behind us with the children.”

Amy looked at Frank, and he nodded slightly. She turned to her mother. “All right. That’s fine.”

“Is everyone okay with that?” Their mother glanced at each of them.

Jane and the others nodded and began moving stiffly into the front pew. Their mother sat on the far right with Aaron at
the opposite side near the center aisle. Megan, Jane, Amy, and Ellen sat in the middle, spread out along the pew so that several feet separated them.

Let this day be over quickly
, Jane prayed.
Please.

Diane leaned slightly forward and studied her children, taking in the uncomfortable looks on their faces. They were sitting together, but they were still worlds apart. She bowed her head and whispered a silent prayer.

People were arriving and Ellen sat at an angle so she could watch for Jake. She had told Mike that she and Jake had spoken and that he might be at the funeral. Details beyond that could wait until they were back in Miami.

It was nearly ten and the church was more than half full when Ellen saw him. He was by himself and he entered the building through the back doors. Ellen watched him and saw him hesitate, searching the church for her. She stood up and moved toward the back of the church.

Jake had seen her stand up, and he remained in the back of the church, waiting for her. He was wearing a tie and Ellen thought it didn’t quite look right on him. She would always see him in swim shorts and a tank top, the way he had been when they were dating…the way he had been that past week.

She motioned for him to follow her into the foyer.

“You okay?” he whispered when they could talk. He took her hand in his and squeezed it quickly.

“I’m nervous,” she said. “I think my stomach’s been in knots since last night.”

“The viewing?”

She nodded. “Hardest thing I’ve ever done.” She paused. “Thanks for coming, Jake.”

“I cared about him, Ellen. And you.”

“Jake, there’s something you should know.”

He waited, studying her silently.

“Mike’s here. He came late last night.”

Something subtle changed in Jake’s expression, but he said nothing, only nodded.

“I had no idea he was coming, but I’m really glad he’s here. I thought you’d want to know.”

He straightened a bit and smiled at her tenderly. “It doesn’t change anything. I still want to be here, if it’s okay with you.”

“Of course.” She nodded. “Jake, I took your advice. Mike and I stayed up late last night and talked about things. We even prayed together, which is something we hadn’t done in years.”

When he said nothing she continued. “I want you to meet him after the service. I—” she smiled gently—“I really think you’ll like him.”

Jake looked at his watch and Ellen stared at him closely, wondering what he was thinking.

“You better go, Ellen. The service will be starting any minute.”

“Jake…”

He leaned toward her and hugged her, a friendly platonic hug that could never have been mistaken as anything more than a show of comfort for an old friend grieving the loss of her father. “Go,” he whispered as he pulled away “We’ll talk later.”

“Okay.” She looked at him, trying to read his expression. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

She moved along the side aisle and found her seat in the front row once again.

Suddenly, the music began. People who had been rustling
through their programs or looking for a seat settled in, and a heavy silence fell over the church. Ellen glanced once more over her shoulder and saw that Jake had taken a seat in the back row. She looked at her siblings then and saw that they each were holding a folded piece of paper. She opened her purse and took out her memorial. Aaron was missing and Ellen figured he had gone to join the pallbearers on the side of the church. She closed her eyes and waited.

Suddenly the music changed, and Ellen opened her eyes. The wooden casket, covered with a brilliant spray of red roses, was rolled into the church. It sat atop an aluminum gurney and was flanked by Aaron and five other men. Aaron was stoic as he helped guide the coffin to the front of the church. When it was in its proper place, all the men except Aaron returned to their seats. The church was silent as everyone watched Aaron retrieve a large, framed photograph of his father and stand it gently on top of the casket. Aaron looked at it for a moment and then returned to his seat.

Father Joe, the priest who had never really known John, moved to the pulpit and welcomed those gathered there.

“We are here,” he said, his voice hopeful, “to pay our respects to a man who touched the lives of many, a man who will certainly live on in the lives and love of his family” He paused and nodded toward the Barretts. “It is at times like this that we must remember the way our dear Lord viewed death, not as an ending, but a beginning. A glorious beginning. We will certainly grieve, but we grieve for ourselves because in this life we are without John Barrett. We must not, however, grieve for the man who left our presence in the prime of his life. For he is in a better place now, a place with no pain, no tears.”

The church echoed with the sound of rustling tissues and an occasional sniffle.

“And so, dear friends, this is not a time to mourn, but a time to celebrate. This morning you will hear songs John Barrett sang, Scripture he often quoted, and personal eulogies from each of his five children. This service is more than a mourning of his death. Rather, it is a celebration of his life.”

The priest stepped down and Megan took the cue. She went to the pulpit. Glancing at the picture of her father on the casket, she stared at her notes. Then in a shaky voice she read the Twenty-third Psalm.

“The L
ORD
is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.…”

In the front row, Ellen squirmed. Glancing at her sisters and brother, she saw they were doing the same. She glanced toward the casket and the picture. When Megan finished she made her way gracefully back to her seat.

Ellen stood up then and approached the pulpit slowly. She spoke of how her father had loved the Serenity Prayer and then she proceeded to recite it. Afterward she returned to her seat and the church filled with music.

The mourners listened as the soloist sang the haunting strains of “The Old Rugged Cross.” Ellen closed her eyes, silently mouthing the words to her father’s favorite hymn. The music stopped and the crowd waited, aware that it was time for John Barrett’s children to speak. The order had already been decided.

Amy stood, turned once to look at Frank, and then walked carefully to a microphone set up in front of the church, a few feet from the casket. She unfolded her notes and cleared her throat. For a moment she said nothing, only stared at the page before her. When she looked up there were tears in her eyes. She struggled to find her voice and then, staring at the paper in her hand, she began to speak.

“My father was a wonderful man and I’d like to share some
things about him for those of you who didn’t know him.” She coughed, as though struggling to keep her throat from choking up.

“I will always remember the way my father took us on adventures each weekend. He was always laughing, he was bigger than life. Sometimes when the others would run off to play, I’d stay back with my parents and Dad would swing me around until I couldn’t stop laughing.”

She opened the paper a bit more and kept reading. “I also remember that whenever I needed help he was there.”

In the front row Jane hung her head and closed her eyes. “I was the youngest of John Barrett’s daughters. The quietest in the crowd.” She smiled tenderly at her siblings. “I may not have as many memories as the others, but Dad made a difference in my life all the same. If it weren’t for him, I would have been too serious about life. But he taught me how to laugh. I remember him playing water volleyball with us at Petoskey State Park and inviting our friends to stay for barbecues. He was generous and kind to others.”

She looked up from the paper. “If you know me, you know that I don’t say a lot. But I see a lot. I hear a lot. I hear his laughter even now.” Her voice cracked, but she went on. “He was my hero and I’ll miss him.”

A sob caught in her throat and she turned to face her father’s picture. “Good-bye, Daddy I love you.” She folded her paper and returned to her seat, dropping her head in her hands. There, she quietly gave way to her tears.

Megan wiped her eyes and slid close to Amy, circling an arm over her shoulder and hugging her tight. Aaron, too, moved next to her. He and Amy had not gotten along for years, and it moved Ellen to see him take her hand and squeeze it gently.

Mom saw, too, and smiled through her tears.

God was doing something. Ellen was sure of it. Not just for her, but for her whole family.

Aaron sat with his arm around Amy, talking to her quietly. His heart had broken listening to her, watching her up there. When he was sure she was all right, he clutched his letter and stood up. All eyes followed him as he lumbered toward the microphone and unfolded the paper. For a moment he stared silently at the notes he’d written, his eyes hidden behind the dark glasses.

“I was John Barrett’s only son,” he began. It was hard to talk through the emotions choking him, but he was determined to continue. “I want to talk about the way my father loved people.” He paused. “Before I was born my father worked three jobs all at the same time so that we’d have enough food on the table. Later, when we moved to Petoskey, he bought a house with a big, porched…fenced yard because he…where he…he bought a house with a porch and a big yard so we could…”

He felt the frustration growing, building inside of him as he struggled to make sense of what he had written. He tried the sentence again. “Later, when we moved to Petoskey we bought a house…he bought a house with a large porch for people…a porch where everyone could meet and…”

He stared at the paper in his hands and then suddenly, swiftly he crumpled it and stuffed it deep into his pocket. Friends and family members throughout the church remained silent. Aaron glanced at the front pew and his eyes locked with Ellen’s. She looked as though she wished desperately that she could somehow help him through the awkward moment.

“Forget it,” he mumbled into the microphone. He took one
step toward his seat, then his eyes locked onto his father’s, staring at him from the photograph atop the casket. Aaron’s shoulders slumped and he froze in place.
You can do it, son
, those eyes said.

Slowly, he returned to the microphone, took a deep breath, and leaned forward. Then he began to speak.

“I can’t tell you about my dad’s love by reading a handful of sentences from a piece of paper. His love lives here—” he put a hand over his heart and his voice cracked—“not on some written page.”

He paused, shaking his head. “I have not always been an easy person to love. I know that. But my father loved me. I have no doubts. He cheered me on in Little League and took me fishing when I was a little boy. He took my scout troop camping on Mackinac Island and helped me build a Pinewood Derby car for my junior-high class project.

“But that is not where I learned how much my father loved me. I learned that on the golf course. People thought hp and I went golfing because we loved the game.” He looked at his siblings. “They were wrong. We went golfing because we loved each other. The golf course was our private world, a place of fairways and tall trees where we talked about things only a father and son can share.”

Aaron paused, fighting the tears that threatened to choke him. “I always knew he loved me, but it was on the golf course that he told me so. I would tell him what was bothering me and he’d put his arm—”

He hung his head and drew a shaky breath. He stayed that way for a moment, then almost abruptly he straightened again. He had missed one opportunity. He wouldn’t miss this one. He brought his hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He was fighting the tears with
all his might. He let his hand fall back by his side, then he looked up and continued.

“He’d put his arm around me and tell me, ‘Son, whatever it is we can work it out together.’ Then he’d smile at me and tell me he loved me. He would always tell me he loved me.”

Aaron crossed his arms in front of him and stared at his feet, silent for several seconds as the tears finally broke free and began sliding down his face. Around the church people dabbed at their eyes and in the front row he could hear his sisters crying.

“But there was a problem with that,” he continued. “Even though he would always tell me he loved me, I never—” A sob escaped from deep in his throat. He swallowed hard and pushed on. “I never said the words to him. Never said them to anyone.”

He drew a breath, finding strength he hadn’t known he had. “But I do love. I love my sisters.” He removed the dark glasses and looked at each of them slowly. “And my mother. And I loved my Dad. He taught me how to love.”