Chapter Ten

At the first signs of daylight, Elisa decided she might as well get up and write some of the feelings that had kept her awake most of the night in her journal. She noticed Cecile had finally managed to drop off to sleep, so she moved quietly out of bed and to the desk she and Cecile shared, where she pulled out her journal and a new goose quill pen. A shawl draped around her shoulders took away some of the early morning chill.

At first, Elisa couldn’t arrive at any words that made enough sense to write down. She was numb, and couldn’t imagine that she would ever have anything to say to anyone again. She bowed her head and tried to pray, but again, no words would come. It was just too soon to give any form to her pain.

Finally she began to think of writing to Papa, of pouring her heart out to him. One line at a time, she wrote a poem in his memory without even intending to do so.

Oh! Father dear, come back to me,

My heart is sad, I long for thee.

Could I but hear thy laugh again

‘Twould ease my mind from all this pain.

I know with Jesus you abide,

And all the saints are by your side,

Yet it does my heart such good to know

You still see the ones who love you so.

“What are you writing?” Cecile asked when she awoke and saw Elisa seated at the desk.

“Just some of my thoughts and feelings. Did you sleep well?”

“I did for a while. I wish I could wake up and find out that it was all a bad dream—that Papa’s still down in his bed with Mama, and that he’s beginning to feel better.”

“I know. I found myself thinking that if we just stayed in our room all day, we wouldn’t have to face going to Papa’s service.”

“We can’t leave Mama to go through this day alone, Lizzie.”

“I know,” Elisa said. “Let’s get dressed and get Adele and Albertine up and dressed. Then we can all go downstairs together.”

When Cecile and Elisa went into the younger girls’ bedroom, the girls were just waking up. They were still in that period of forgetfulness that sleep brings. As soon as Albertine remembered what had happened the day before, she began to cry. Then Adele began to cry too.

“We need to be strong for Mama today, girls,” Cecile said. “It’s right to be sad. The Lord would want us to be sad about losing Papa, and so would Mama. But it’s time to face the day, so let’s get dressed.”

Mama and Emmanuel were sitting at the kitchen table talking when the girls came down. The fire crackling in the kitchen fireplace took the chill out of the room, but not out of the hearts of those Papa had left behind.

“Here are my girls,” Mama said. She stood up to hug each one in turn. “Emmanuel and I are talking about the service today. Reverend Chavannes gave us some hymns to consider. He also said it would be appropriate for any of you who wanted to say something about Papa to do so.”

“I couldn’t say anything, Mama,” Albertine sobbed. “If I tried, I would only cry.”

“That’s all right, dear. I just wanted you to know you could if you wanted to.”

Elisa thought about the poem she had written at daylight. It did make her feel better to read it. Maybe it would make the rest of the family feel better too.

“I do have a poem I could read,” she said to no one in particular.

“What did you say, dear?” Mama asked. Elisa had spoken so softly, Mama wasn’t sure she had heard her correctly.

“I said I have written a poem I could read if you would like.”

“I think that would be wonderful, dear. There’s a good place for it right after Reverend Chavannes reads some of Papa’s favorite Scripture verses. I know that would make Papa very proud,” Mama said.

Elisa pulled away from the table and sat on a high stool near the back door. She watched her mother, brother, and sisters without really seeing them. She felt as if she were dreaming. Like this wasn’t really happening, and they weren’t really planning Papa’s funeral service.

But it was happening. Somehow she had to begin to accept Papa’s death as Mama seemed to be doing. She didn’t understand that working through the details of the things that had to be done was getting them all through the first few days of this horrible grief.

Outside the kitchen window, a pair of cardinals pecked at some seed Mama had put out on a stump, then flew back under the eaves to keep from getting soaked by the rain that was coming down. It had been raining for days, but now the rain seemed to be falling in sheets, like water tossed from giant buckets in heaven.

Don’t you know what happened, birds? Elisa wanted to say. Papa’s dead. You can’t just go on looking for food as if it still matters that you eat. Papa is dead. The world can’t go on as it was.

Certainly Elisa knew she couldn’t. She would never, ever be the same again.

*  *  *

The funeral service was scheduled to begin at one o’clock. Mama and the children were dressed and ready to go by eleven thirty. Mama wore a black dress and a black hat with a veil that Mrs. Chavannes sent over for her. The girls all had on dark dresses, and Emmanuel had on his only suit, a dark gray one like Papa’s. The girls wore their navy blue wool cloaks again. This time, they would really need them.

At noon, Reverend and Mrs. Chavannes came to pray with the family and take them to Spring Place Presbyterian Church, the neighborhood church chosen for the service because it was closest to the house and had room for all the French-Swiss to gather. Because of the rain, only two of the Chavannes children, Emma and Albert, came with them. Leon Chavannes stayed at home with the younger children.

Elisa was glad to see Emma when the Chavannes family came into the house, but she didn’t know what to say to her friend. It was a relief to realize that nothing had to be said at all. Emma just walked up to Elisa and put her arms around her. It felt good.

Reverend Chavannes was driving the large family buggy, and Albert Chavannes brought the wagon to carry Papa’s coffin. The men who were serving as pallbearers arrived in the Esperandieu buggy just as the family was ready to leave. They loaded Papa’s coffin onto the wagon. Emmanuel rode with Albert and Papa. Mama and the girls climbed into the buggies wherever there was room, and the small procession started out for the church in the pouring rain.

Aunt Cecile and Uncle Theodore were waiting inside the door of the green frame church when the procession arrived. They ushered Mama and the children into a side room and prayed with them until it was time for the service to begin.

When the family heard the organist play the first few chords of “O God, Our Help in Ages Past,” they knew it was time for them to file into the front pew.

Emmanuel led Mama into the pew first, then came Cecile, then Albertine, then Elisa who held Adele’s hand.

Elisa tried to sing along with the hymn. She knew her mouth was moving but she wasn’t sure if any sounds were coming out. All she could think of as the rain pounded against the church windows was the sunny summer afternoon she had played this same hymn for Papa on her accordion.

“ ‘For we are strangers before thee, and sojourners, as were all our fathers,’ ” Reverend Chavannes read from 1 Chronicles 29:15. “ ‘Our days on the earth are as a shadow, and there is none abiding.’ ”

Then he turned to the Psalms. “ ‘As for man, his days are as grass,’ ” he read from Psalm 103:15-16. “ ‘As a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more.’ ”

That isn’t true about Papa, Elisa thought as she struggled to take the words of the Scripture into her heart for comfort. I still know Papa. … I still remember everything about Papa … even though he is gone from here.

Elisa was jarred from her thoughts by the realization that Reverend Chavannes was looking directly at her over the top of his glasses, and Adele was squeezing her hand much more tightly than before. Everyone was waiting for her to read her poem.

Letting go of Adele’s hand, and picking up her French Bible, Elisa slowly made her way up to the front of the church. Reverend Chavannes pulled a wooden box behind the pulpit, and Elisa climbed up on it so she would be able to see the congregation and they would be able to see her.

It wasn’t until Elisa looked out over the rows of people that she realized that so many had ventured out in the rain to pay tribute to her father. He had only lived in America six months when he died, but this group of immigrants was already a strong community of faith. When one family suffered a loss, it was felt by all.

Elisa really didn’t need her Bible. She had written her poem out on a separate piece of paper that she tucked in the Bible next to Psalm 23. She just brought the Bible along for comfort. Somehow it made her feel Papa was close to her.

Elisa’s knees felt weak and wobbly when she stepped down off the box. She didn’t remember reading the words to the poem at all. But walking back to the pew, she realized she must have gotten the words out because everyone in her family was crying. Many of the men and women in the congregation were sniffling or had handkerchiefs up to their noses, too.

After the last hymn, Reverend Chavannes closed the service by reading Psalm 119:50, the verse Papa had chosen to be engraved on his tombstone. “ ‘This is my comfort in my affliction: for thy word hath quickened me.’ ”

It wasn’t the first time Elisa had heard that verse that day. Mama had read it to the children that morning. She had explained to them that the verse was a testament to Papa’s faith—that he knew that his life would be preserved for all eternity because of his belief in Jesus.

There was no doubt in Elisa’s mind or heart that everything had happened as Papa believed it would, and that he was with Jesus even then. Still, it was so hard to think of his body going to its grave.

After the service, the family gathered at the back of the church to receive hugs and condolences from those who had come to the service. They huddled together as the pallbearers carried Papa’s coffin down the center aisle and outside to the wagon that was now waiting to take it to the cemetery at Third Creek.

Still, the rain came down in torrents. “Elise, I see no reason why you and the girls should be out in this soaking rain,” Reverend Chavannes said softly to Mama. “Let us get the coffin safely on its way, then I’ll take you by the house before going to the cemetery.”

Since in Switzerland only the men went to funerals or cemeteries, the suggestion didn’t seem strange to Mama at all. She nodded her agreement that she and the girls should be taken home instead of to the cemetery to stand in the rain by Papa’s grave.

Elisa wanted to object. She wasn’t ready to part ways with Papa. But she knew her mother needed the support of all her children now. If that was what Mama thought was best, that was what Elisa would do.

By the time Elisa ran from the door of the church to the Chavannes buggy, the bottom half of her skirt was sopping wet. Only the cloaks they wore protected Elisa and her sisters from the bone-chilling cold. The buggy slowly followed behind the wagon with Papa’s black coffin on it, but when the house came into view, Reverend Chavannes turned his buggy up the lane to let the women out before proceeding to the gravesite. Elisa turned her head to catch another glimpse of Papa’s coffin as it went on down the road. Only Emmanuel went to the cemetery with Papa and the other men.