THE FUNERAL

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

- Kahlil Gibran

They found him alone, naked, sprawled out in the middle of his own cotton field. The exposure is what killed him, or so they say, but I don’t see how they could know that. How can anybody ever really know how someone died? Sure, you might have a good idea, you can cut them open and analyze every organ, every single cell in their body. But can you ever truly know? I don’t think so. Then again, what the hell do I know?

The First Christian Church of Terrance stood before me, cars filling the parking lot around it. As a boy, it amazed me how the church rose above any other building in the small Louisiana town, like a rocky island jutting up from the sea, or an angry giant standing over me. I expected adulthood to dampen this perspective, but still the giant loomed as large and imposing as the first time I laid eyes on him. Despite myself, I felt my hands shaking. I shoved them into the front pockets of my hoodie and started toward the rear entrance. A Hearst was parked in the front driveway awaiting its cargo. I walked past it and up the steps to the church and opened the oak-wood doors that led to the rear of the sanctuary. It creaked on its hinges, the sound reverberating throughout the enormous room, and several people turned around to look. I recognized some of them from my childhood; high school teachers, business owners from around town, but mostly farmers. Men who knew Grandaddy. I doubt many of them recognized me, but I didn’t care either way.

I was just glad my sister didn’t turn around.

She sat with her husband at the end of the front pew. Sam was impossible to miss, even from the back. Curly locks of bright red hair draped down her neck and back, exactly the way I remembered it the last time I saw her. To her left, a closed wooden casket sat before the alter where Pastor Sonnier delivered the eulogy. He looked old and weary, each line on his weathered face a monument to the trials of this world.

“Sidwin James Comeaux was a man of many hardships, and yet he loved life in spite of them,” Pastor Sonnier said. “Those of us who knew him are aware of the struggles he dealt with. He lost his son and daughter-in-law many years ago, and soon afterward lost his wife. Like many of you here, he nearly lost his farm after the big flood, and he fought tooth and nail to keep it running long after that. Yet, even as those waters rose, Sid praised his God. Even as he mourned for those he lost, he held his two grandbabies close to him, comforting them with his sweet, soft voice. He took Adem and Samantha in, raising them as his own, and their house filled with his love...”

As he spoke, I felt my throat constrict and my eyes threatened to spill over. When he finished, everyone stood to sing a final hymn, a haunting rendition of Beulah Land. I took a step back and turned around to leave. Before opening the back doors, a compulsion gripped me to stop and look back one more time. To this day I wish I hadn’t. My eyes locked with Sam’s, her gaze boring a hole through my skull. Time seemed to freeze, all those lost years reduced to a single, awful moment while the congregation sang.

“The zephyrs seem to float to me,

Sweet sounds of Heaven’s melody,

As angles with the white-robed throng

Join in the sweet redemption song!”

I couldn’t move, couldn’t breath. The song ended and I finally forced myself to break away. I left. I walked out of that fucking church as fast as my legs could carry me.

It wasn’t fast enough. Just as I reached my car and opened the door, I heard a familiar voice call out from behind me.

“Adem, wait!” It was Sam. “Please, hang on a second, okay?” I balled my fist and struck the top of my car. I should have known better than to think I could get in and out of there without being noticed.

I turned around. “Hey Sam. Look, I uh…I better get going.”

“That’s it? Ten years since the last time I saw you, and now you’re just going to take off?” I stood there like an asshole. What could I say? “Where have you been, Adem?”

I looked down and swallowed. “Atlanta.”

She bent over and craned her head up so she could look me in the eye. I turned away. Sam started toward me, and I felt every muscle in my body tense up. I couldn’t bear to look at her. She reached out and touched my face, her soft fingers pushing my chin up until our eyes met again. When they did, I saw no anger there.

“For god’s sake Adem, come here,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion. She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me close to her. Relief flooded through me as I returned her embrace. I’d convinced myself that if I did run into Sam, she’d hate me, and I would let her hate me. I deserved it. Not once did I consider any other scenario. After several seconds, she released me and then held me back at arm’s length to look me up and down.

“You look terrible,” she said with a half smile. “When was the last time you ate anything?”

I tried to smile back but couldn’t hold it. “I’m fine.”

“How did you hear about Grandaddy?” she asked. “I wasn’t sure if word would get to you in time. I looked everywhere for you.”

“I got an envelope in the mail that had his obituary in it. It didn’t have a return address. You didn’t send it?”

Sam tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “If I knew your address, don’t you think I would have contacted you before now?” I opened my mouth, then closed it, realizing that there was nothing to say. Behind her, people were now filing out of the sanctuary. Sam’s husband Winston stood on the church steps watching us, his arms crossed across his broad chest. I lifted a hand up and waved at him, but he didn’t move. Just another bridge blasted to cinders. I felt the same urge I’d had a few minutes earlier in the sanctuary, that noose constricting around my throat, threatening to choke the life out of me if I didn’t leave right that instant.

“Well, it was good to see you Sam, but—”

“No, don’t you even think about leaving again,” Sam said, her voice rising in intensity. She pushed herself closer to me as I backed off, and the car’s roof pressed into my back. “You think you can show up after all this time out of nowhere and then just take off again?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to stick around.”

Sam pointed a finger in my face. “I couldn’t care less about your ideas. Look where they’ve gotten us!” I wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of there, but I decided to stand there and take it, no matter how angry she became. I owed her that much. Instead, her face softened again and she took a step back. “I’m sorry. It’s just been tough with you gone. Grandaddy’s been through a lot since you left.”

“What do you mean?”

She sighed and repositioned the purse strap on her shoulder. “I can’t talk about it with you right now. Adem, can you at least consider staying for a couple more days? I need your help taking care of the estate. Did you know that you’re still listed as the executor?”

I laughed. “Are you shitting me?” Sam scowled, unhappy with my choice of language.

“You know Grandaddy. Stubborn to the end.” She took a glance back at her husband, then turned back to face me. “Just a few days Adem, that’s all I’m asking for.” My car was right there. I could hop in and take off, I thought, and in five minutes this town would be behind me again. I almost did, but then I looked into Sam’s dark green eyes and I was her big brother again.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll stay, but only for a couple of days. I’m sure I can look up some old friends to crash with.”

“Why don’t you come stay at the farm? Winston’s going back to take care of little Sid while I wrap up everything with Grandaddy’s will, so I’ll be staying there, too.”

“Little…Sid?”

Sam nodded. “He’s three. You’re an uncle and you didn’t even know it.” I felt the sensation of blood draining out of my face, but somehow stayed on my feet. What else did I miss? Who else missed me? She must have understood what I was feeling and wrapped her arms around me once more. “We’ll work through this, Adem. Ten years is a long time, but it’s not too long to make things right. I’ll see you at home.” She kissed me on the cheek, then turned around and walked back toward her husband.

I took a deep breath and settled down into the car seat. In my rearview mirror, pallbearers carried my Grandaddy’s casket down the steps and carefully slid it into the back of the Hearst. All that remained of him, stuffed into a box so that he could be buried in the dirt like so much garbage. Was that all that was left of the man I loved like a father? Just a pile of waste that required prompt disposal? My head throbbed. What was I doing here? It wasn’t too late. All I had to do was pull out of the parking lot and turn right and I’d be on my way back to Atlanta.

I turned left.