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"He better not be there today."
"Who?" Arlana looked away from Lachlan, helping Aziel with his straw.
"Corny Corn Flakes!" Jaira snapped.
For one who had said she was a mouse since she had married her controlling husband, she sure had a feisty side.
Lachlan grinned at her outburst. "Corny Corn Flakes?"
"Ya, this freakin' pastor who can't mind his own business. Corny Corn Flakes! He just barges in where he isn't wanted and drills everyone with questions. Can't mind his own business and Adelaide, of course, is stuck right up his ass," Jaira's temper blazed, "Sorry Aziel, you shouldn't have heard that, but he burns my butt! I can't stand the guy! Yeesh, we are all grieving and don't need to deal with him. Not now, not ever. And then he has the balls to say he wants to come to Quebec - My Quebec - and open a church there. Oh hell no!"
Yes, the pastor had been annoying yet the root of the rage Jaira displayed was much deeper. Past history with his church and their holier-than-thou rejection of anyone who disagreed with them had instilled pain that had festered. They casually condemned to hell anyone who left the church. Arlana couldn't really blame her sister and this "Corny Corn Flakes" was a target for much deeper pain over what had been revealed. She was sure of it.
Lachlan reached for Jaira's hand across the table, resting his on top of hers in a comforting gesture, choosing not to comment. Better to be a listening ear.
"Well, hopefully, he will realize he wasn't exactly wanted yesterday and stay home," Arlana sipped on her iced tea, glancing at the clock on the wall. Twenty minutes till service time. "I think we should head out soon. It's almost time." She turned again to Lachlan, "Are you sure you don't want to come in?"
"I'm not exactly dressed for it," Lachlan indicated his white t-shirt and jeans attire, "Don't worry, I really have some catching up to do so I don't mind."
They cleared the table and returned to the car.
****
JOINING THEIR FELLOW mourners, they entered the building, ushered into the room where their grandfather still lay in state, casket open. One cousin leaned over the casket, kissing their grandfather's cold forehead. A tender gesture but Arlana cringed at the thought.
Jaira had left her side immediately after they entered, choosing to shadow Aunt Samantha. Arlana stood against a back wall, her estranged cousin joining her.
Tasha whispered, "I just can't cry. Haven't shed a tear yet over Grandpa. Does that make me a terrible person?"
"I don't know," Arlana whispered, "I haven't cried over him yet either. I cried more when my dog died..." she confessed.
"I hear you! I think it is 'cus we knew our pets better..."
"I hope I can cry when I get home. Maybe it just needs more time to hit me."
Tasha nodded, "Maybe cus he looks so fake - not at all like Grandpa. I feel really bad though."
"Same," Arlana replied, squeezing Tasha's hand gently, "I hope we stay in contact after this. It's sad we all barely know each other. I saw your brother and thought he was your boyfriend."
Tasha muffled a chuckle a second before a short man with greying hair called out, "The funeral is about to begin. Can we have all the family gather for prayer?"
Tasha pressed closer to her cousin who was younger by exactly one year and one day. Adelaide was standing on the other side of the room, holding her children's hands, Jaira crying as she stood beside Aunt Samantha.
The prayer suddenly over, Arlana realized she hadn't heard a word of it.
They turned and walked toward the chapel, the doors to the viewing room closing behind them. The staff closed the casket behind closed doors. Finality. Nothing was left in the casket other than what remained of their grandfather. Unlike their grandmother, he didn't even take his Bible into the ground.
Arlana sat beside her uncle Clarence and his long-time girlfriend. Adelaide sat behind her flanked by her children and their brothers. To say it was awkward was an understatement but Arlana thought it was better they all sat separately. No drama. Jaira sat across the room beside Aunt Samantha.
They stood to sing, Uncle Clarence's shoulders shaking. The first song chosen by Grandpa to be sung at his funeral was a song they had sung so many years before at her grandfather's church. After hearing the truth last night, of what happened at that church so long ago, tears poured down Arlana's cheeks, choking her voice.
Wrong song choice.
She didn't weep over her grandfather's death, but over what he and consequently his children had endured at the hands of her other grandfather and her father. Wrong done that she didn't know how to make right.
****
YET ANOTHER SONG AND they were once again seated after the casket was rolled to the front of the room. Her brothers were chosen to be among the pallbearers. Truth be told, Arlana didn't envy them one bit. It must be a traumatic experience to carry their grandfather to the waiting hearse.
Roseanne and her son gave a eulogy before the short man who had prayed earlier walked up to the pulpit. He told jokes he had shared with their grandfather as well as tales of them at McDonald's, telling those gathered that they had been great friends.
Most of those gathered did not profess to be Christians. They were apathetic, not caring about the state of their souls. This would likely be the only opportunity they would hear the Gospel, and this man was blowing this golden opportunity.
Arlana's mind wandered a moment. When she looked back he was facing the casket, resting his hand on the lid.
"Well done, good and faithful servant. Receive your crown."
A tear tumbled down her cheek. That was the best part of the service.
They stood to sing, Uncle Clarence's shoulders shaking. The first song chosen by Grandpa to be sung at his funeral was a song they had sung so many years before at her grandfather's church. After hearing the truth last night, of what happened at that church so long ago, tears poured down Arlana's cheeks, choking her voice.
Wrong song choice.
She didn't weep over her grandfather's death, but over what he and consequently his children had endured at the hands of her other grandfather and her father. Wrong done that she didn't know how to make right.
****
YET ANOTHER SONG AND they were once again seated after the casket was rolled to the front of the room. Her brothers were chosen to be among the pallbearers. Truth be told, Arlana didn't envy them one bit. It must be a traumatic experience to carry their grandfather to the waiting hearse.
Roseanne and her son gave a eulogy before the short man who had prayed earlier walked up to the pulpit. He told jokes he had shared with their grandfather as well as tales of them at McDonald's, telling those gathered that they had been great friends.
Most of those gathered did not profess to be Christians. They were apathetic, not caring about the state of their souls. This would likely be the only opportunity they would hear the Gospel, and this man was blowing this golden opportunity.
Arlana's mind wandered a moment. When she looked back he was facing the casket, resting his hand on the lid.
"Well done, good and faithful servant. Receive your crown."
A tear tumbled down her cheek. That was the best part of the service.
The funeral home worker took apart the wreath that said "Commelot" on a beautiful gold-lettered ribbon and passed out the flowers. Adelaide shook her head no, placing a long-stemmed white rose on top of the casket.
Arlana placed a wreath flower on the casket - or at least attempted to. She tripped on the green fake grass, falling forward, the flower dropping unceremoniously onto the ground. Terrified she was going to fall into the grave, she stumbled backwards trying to right herself as Adelaide, tears in her eyes, passed her sister the fallen flower. Arlana tossed it on top of the others. The whole incident was completely embarrassing, but she didn't dare go any closer.
The staff offered a small white rose to Joshua, but Adelaide held up her hand refusing to let him accept the flower to place on the casket, before turning away.
Aunt Anna showed them where her husband was buried directly beside her parents. Roseanne's mother was three plots away.
Uncle Clement stood at her side, weeping, "I wish it was me being buried."
Arlana hugged her weeping uncle, at a complete loss for words. After hearing his story last night she understood, yet was unable to offer him comfort.