Wisdom Seeds (30 page)

When we arrived in Smithtown on Thursday morning Joey, Stephanie and my mom were at Ozrell & Sons Funeral Parlor making arrangements. Noah and Tashika arrived later
that evening with their boys and my grandparents. The rest of the family didn't arrive until Friday. The funeral was scheduled for one o'clock on Saturday.

Thursday afternoon was exhausting and we gratefully retreated to the house after finalizing the program. Mom sat in her recliner, unable to greet guests and numb to the sentiments of consolation. Josh sat at her feet. I sat in the dining room and cried. Stephanie made dinner, but no one ate. There was little conversation.

I jumped up from the table when the doorbell rang. It was Lance and Rhonda.

“We gotta stop meeting like this,” she said hugging me.

Rhonda and Lance joined us in the dining room and initiated small talk, which everyone seemed to appreciate. Then, as only Rhonda could, she began to reminisce about my dad and the things she remembered as a little girl at St. Luke's. It made Mom smile and she joined the conversation.

“He kept putting off going to the doctor,” Mom suddenly shifted the conversation. “He knew he was sick. He kept saying he had so much to do. It was difficult for him to breathe and he was tired all the time. I begged him to go see Dr. Baird.”

We sat motionless, trying not to breathe too hard, allowing her to talk.

“He left at eight-thirty and said he would be back by noon. We were going to have lunch.”

I moved my chair closer to Mom so I could put my arm around her. My grief over Jason returned as if he were the one who had just died. There were no words that comforted me and I was unsure of how to comfort my mother.

“Shawn called about noon and I told him David was at the church.” Mom stared blankly as she was wringing the
end of the tablecloth. “When he didn't come home for lunch I assumed he got caught up in his work.” She paused. “Shawn came to get me at one-thirty. We went straight to the emergency room. He was already gone when I got there.” Mom buried her face in her hands and there wasn't a dry eye around the table. “I loved him,” she repeated over and over again.

“Everyone in the Smithtown loved him.” Rhonda smiled at my mom and gave me one of those ‘okay you say something' looks.

I felt on the spot. “We all loved him,” was my weak attempt to comfort my mother. I did love my dad even though, at the moment, I couldn't remember the last time I had told him so.

“I loved Grandpa.” Josh hugged his grandmother.

“He loved you, too.” Mom wiped her eyes with the yellow monogrammed handkerchief. “He really loved you, Joshua.”

I wanted Joey to join us with our sentiments. He sat across the table, holding Stephanie's hand, studying the marble pattern on the dining room floor tiles. Although he avoided eye contact, I knew that Joey was unsure of my dad's love. I also knew that Joey hoped my dad knew, deep down, that he really loved him; that he was sorry there had been so many schisms between them; and that he was angry my dad died before they had the chance to get it all straight. Had I been stronger, I would have been able to comfort him, too. I wasn't and I couldn't.

The stillness of the moment was interrupted by the knock on the door. I knew it was Noah, he never rang the bell. Before I could get up, Joey was already in the foyer. Josh began to clear the table. Rhonda and Lance hugged my mom.

“I don't know what to say.” Grandma Rita slowly
walked over to hug Mom and me.

“Just sad,” Grandpa Tim said shaking his head as Joey wheeled him into the dining room.

Noah hugged Mom intensely. Tashika went around the room and hugged everyone. Rhonda and Lance had to leave to pick up their kids so I walked them to the door. We hugged and cried some more. If no one else understood my pain, Rhonda knew the history of my dad and me.

People were still waiting to get their last view of Reverend Allen when we arrived at the church on Saturday. Mr. Ozrell, the funeral director, had been instructed to close the casket before we entered the sanctuary. We said our good-byes after the viewing. Having to watch them close the casket would have been too much for everyone. Even Noah.

My uncles were standing by the vestibule door – they hadn't come to the house or to the viewing. My grandparents had not been together with their sons in a long time. The moment was awkward. Grandma Rita cried and I was unsure if her tears were from sorrow or happiness. Grandpa Tim's affect was flat. I wanted to believe he was grieving over his son even though there were many unresolved issues. Uncle Mat hugged my mom. Uncle Paul hugged Andrea. Corey shook hands with the grandfather he hadn't seen in years. Andrea began to cry and Uncle Paul held her.

Uncle Matt was the thinnest of the brothers and looked the most like Grandpa Tim. Like my dad, he dressed impeccably and appeared solemn. He could have easily been on the cover of GQ magazine. The diamond in the ring on his index finger was bigger than any diamond I had ever seen. Uncle Matt did not look like a homosexual and he didn't act feminine. He never spoke above a whisper so I couldn't tell if he had a lisp.

Uncle Paul had aged since I saw him at Andrea's
wedding. He was a lot grayer and had gained a few pounds. At six foot five, he was the tallest of the brothers and his stature was that of an officer. The olive colored double-breasted suit was a precise fit, like a military uniform, and his shoes had that military shine. His deep voice was commanding. His eyes were sad. He and my dad had Grandma Rita's eyes.

As we lined up in the vestibule, Miss Beth, the head nurse at the church, came to get Joey. Stormy was crying uncontrollably at the casket. She missed the viewing and became inconsolable as the casket was being closed. I could hear her moaning when they opened the main door to the sanctuary. Stormy was my dad's favorite grandchild. His death was going to be very difficult for her. I understood her grief.

I sat next to Grandpa Tim. History was repeating itself. He buried his son fifty-seven years after burying his father. He was estranged from both of them and their last words had not been kind. Grandpa Tim's heart had to be heavy.

Grandma Rita cried throughout the service. She, too, was emotionally estranged from her children and now one was gone. The other two, although they sat behind her, appeared nervous and distant, unsure of how or if they should try to console their mother.

The service was long and drawn out. Joey played for Stormy and she struggled through Going Up Yonder, the song my dad taught her. She touched every heart in the church. Uncle Matt played Precious Lord – it was true, he could make the piano talk. Although the program read like a mini-concert, the songs were welcomed diversions. Twelve preachers, the mayor, the congressman, the postmaster and about seven people I didn't recognize wanted to have five minutes to say something profound that no one would
remember.

Shawn Campbell preached the eulogy from First Corinthians 15:58.

Therefore, my beloved brethen, be steadfast,
immoveable, always abounding in the work of
the Lord, knowing that your labor is not in vain
in the Lord.

He opened the doors to the church stating that my dad's eternal wish was for his entire family to be saved. Uncle Paul began to cry.

Two hours later, we were standing in the cemetery. Isaac put his hand on my shoulder to let me know he was there and I tried to smile at him. Sheila and Doug were on the other side of the casket and I saw Josh wave to them with his hand that wasn't holding mine. Jose` was standing behind Stormy and she stood between Joey and me. Noah and his crew stood on the other side of Stephanie. Uncle Mat, Uncle Paul, Andrea, Corey and Harvey stood on the other side of Josh. Mom and my grandparents were seated in front of us. It was too soon to be doing this again.

Josh drove back to Pittsburgh with Isaac on Sunday. I reluctantly gave in to his request to stay at the house for three days by himself. Isaac reminded me that Josh would be leaving for college and was old enough, and responsible enough, to stay at the house alone. I made Isaac and Harvey promise to check on him. Sheila and Andrea were my backups to keep the fellas on task and make sure they called and went by.

Noah's girls left on Sunday night and Noah used my dad's car to take them to the airport in Philly. Stormy and Jose` left Monday morning. Noah, Tashika, their boys and my grandparents left Monday afternoon. Joey, Stephanie and I stayed with Mom until Wednesday.

Mom agreed to spend Thanksgiving with us in Pittsburgh. Joey and Stephanie promised her they would spend Christmas in Smithtown. Noah and Tashika promised to come home, too. I refused to feel guilty about going to California.

It was almost two o'clock in the afternoon before I left Smithtown. It would be seven o'clock before I got home. For once, there was no traffic on the Pennsylvania Turnpike and construction was minimal. I was alone with my thoughts and before I knew it, was at exit six.

Josh left me a note stating that he would be at John's until eleven. I returned Isaac's message to call him when I got home but he wasn't home. When I called Sheila, she came over. I called Andrea to let her know I was home and to thank her. Uncle Paul was visiting until the following Saturday and then he was going to see Alicia. They were driving down to Raleigh for Thanksgiving. Uncle Paul was returning to France the first of December.

“Hey, girl,” Sheila said as I opened the door. “I made your favorite – vegetable lasagna.” She put the dish on the counter.

I lifted the foil off the Pyrex dish. “Girl, I'm not going to say you didn't have to.”

“How's your mom?” She sat down in the dining room.

“I don't know.” I sighed and sat across from her. “I'm not sure how she's going to be now that everyone is gone.” I had never told anyone about Mom's drinking. I was co-dependent with her, choosing to hide it from everyone. My biggest fear was that if she was still drinking, it would get worse.

“How are you?” Sheila asked trying to establish eye contact.

“Right now, I'm tired.”

“Okay, but really, how are you doing?”

I put my head down on the table and began to cry. Life was hurting again and I didn't like the feeling.

Sheila placed her hand on my shoulder and began to pray.

God, I thought, I really do need your strength right now. Please help me.

The doorbell startled me.

“Go wash you face,” Sheila said in her motherly tone. “I'll get the door.”

After letting the cold wash cloth lay on my face for a minute, I looked in the mirror. I had my mother's eyes.

Isaac was standing at the bottom of the steps when I came down.

“Hey,” he said embracing me. “Are you okay?”

I had been strong for everyone while I was in Smithtown and there was no one to be strong for me. It felt good to cry in Isaac's arms. His words were not important.

After Sheila left, my feeble attempts to talk with Isaac were defeated by my need for sleep. The sound of Isaac snoring woke me. It was almost two o'clock in the morning.

“Where's Josh?” I sat up, feeling disoriented.

“He's upstairs sleeping.” Isaac pulled me back into his arms. “You must have been very tired.”

“I didn't get much sleep. What time did Josh get home?”

“Around eleven. He kissed you on the forehead when he came in.”

“Why didn't you wake me?”

“I told him you were really tired.”

“Thank you,” I said not looking at him. “I'm glad you're here.”

I could tell he was smiling.

Sleeping in Isaac's arms was comforting. He woke me at five-thirty when he was leaving. “Get some rest, I'll call you later.”

“Hey Mom,” Josh stated on his way to the kitchen. “How are you feeling?”

“Glad to see you.” I sat up on the couch

“You must have been tired.” His tone was flat.

“Josh, what's the matter?” I asked, hoping this wouldn't turn into a long drawn out something over nothing.

He shook his head no as he looked through the mail.

I got up from the couch and sat next to him at the counter. “It is something and we can't deal with it if you don't tell me.”

He took a deep breath and loudly exhaled. “It was different seeing you in Mr. Isaac's arms last night.”

I listened.

“You used to sleep in Dad's arms like that when we watched movies.”

My heart was wrenched and tears swelled in my eyes.

“Don't get me wrong,” Josh continued. “I like Mr. Isaac and I think he's cool, but it felt weird seeing you with him like that.”

“Josh,” I interrupted him, refusing to cry. “You know I loved your dad more than anything, don't you?”

“Yeah.” He wouldn't look at me.

“If I had died, do you think your dad would never date anyone else?”

“I don't know. I guess he would.”

“I would have wanted him to.” I felt more therapeutic than maternal. “I would have wanted him to fall in love again and I would have wanted the two of you to be very happy.” I turned Josh's face to mine. “And I think that's what Jason would want. He wants us to be happy.”

“I miss him, especially at Christmas.”

“He's always right here.” I pointed to his heart with my index finger.