CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

THE FAMILY MET at the funeral home on Sunday before the wake. It was customary for the family to have their private time for viewing and grieving. The obituary made it into the paper, but that didn’t mean everyone saw it. People who read obits read them every day so they didn’t miss someone. They read Mom’s name at Mass on Sunday morning so her fellow parishioners would know of her passing. Timothy visited a few of Mom’s neighbors and told them firsthand. Leslie called Mom’s friends by phone. Uncle Bill arrived in town on Saturday and stayed at the same hotel as Frank. They rode together to the wake.

Timothy and Cheryl arrived first. He picked her up on the way. He needed her strength and support today. The funeral home staff escorted them to Mom’s parlor. They had a few minutes before anyone else showed up. He thought he was cried out until he saw Mom in the casket. The tears streamed down his cheeks. He discovered that preparing yourself to see someone in a casket and seeing them were two different things. He felt relieved to have Cheryl at his side.

“She looks so small in there, doesn’t she?” Timothy said.

“Yes, she does,” Cheryl said.

“I thought I was ready for this, but I’m not. How do you prepare for this kind of thing?”

“You don’t,” Cheryl said. “You have to go through it. It is sad, though. You had a good relationship with your mom. You’re lucky. A lot of people cannot say that with loved ones. You’ll grieve for the life you had with her. Others have to grieve for the life they didn’t have with a loved one.”

Timothy looked at his girlfriend, the therapist. God, that sounds rational. She’s better equipped than I am for dealing with this stuff.

“I know, but I think that makes this loss hurt more. I miss her already,” Timothy said.

“That’s how it’s supposed to be.” Cheryl sounded confident and stable despite the tears in her eyes.

“Hey, guys,” Leslie said as she and Ike came into the parlor.

Timothy and Leslie hugged and hung onto each like two orphans.

“She looks small, doesn’t she?” Timothy said.

“I think all people look smaller when the life leaves them,” Leslie said.

“You know what’s going to happen here today. It’s going to be typical funeral parlor chitchat. ‘Tragic, too soon, unexpected. It’s such a shame.’ People are going to come in and say how great she looks, how natural she looks, how peaceful she looks. It’s all bullshit. She’s dead, and she looks dead,” Timothy said.

“They say that because they don’t know what else to say. It’s their way of trying to comfort us,” Leslie said.

“They mean those things in a good way, Tim,” Cheryl said.

“I know, they’re paying their respects. They’re here to say goodbye to Mom, also. It’s awkward for me.”

“All you have to do is thank them,” Cheryl said.

Timothy knew Leslie and Cheryl were right. What they said made sense, but he suffered this loss with his heart, not his head. He processed everything through pain and loss.

“Do you want to hear something weird?” Timothy said. “Last night, as I lay in bed, I kept thinking about Mom and hoped she didn’t feel lonely or abandoned in the funeral home by herself.”

“It’s grief, Tim,” Cheryl said. “It’s okay.”

“Yes, you’re grieving. Tim, you never need to worry about Mom feeling alone or abandoned. You made sure she wasn’t when she was here,” said Leslie, the reassuring older sister.

By the time Bill and Frank showed up, guests began to file in. Bill and Frank approached the coffin and said a silent prayer. Leslie and Ike’s children alternately laughed and cried. They dealt with grief the way children process such things. Tim offered the children words of comfort that seemed to help for a while. Bill and Frank hung back close to each other as Timothy comforted the children.

“Tim, it’s good to see you. I’m sorry it’s under these conditions,” Bill said, offering him a familial hug.

“Thanks, Bill. Good to see you, too,” Timothy said as he returned the hug.

“I know this is tough on you, being the youngest and all.”

“Bill, I thought this would be tough on all of us. Frank, Leslie, and you, since Mom was your sister and all.” Timothy found it difficult to conceal his irritation with Bill and Frank. They could have helped when Mom was alive. Once raw emotion surfaced, it had a mind of its own. Timothy’s was on display for everyone to see.

“Oh yeah, of course, it is tough on all of us. Say, listen, I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything to help out with the furnace when you called. You know, setbacks and all,” Bill said.

“That’s fine, Bill. I know you would have helped if you could.” Timothy didn’t believe a word he just said, but Mom’s wake was no place to call out Bill as a phony. He restrained himself out of respect for Mom.

“Tim, Frank and I were talking on the way over here, and he told me you were thinking about selling the house. I think that’s a splendid idea. It will raise some cash to settle the estate, and who knows, there may even be some left over for the rest of you. Frank’s got a good business head on his shoulders. I think you ought to listen to him,” Bill said.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much what he said to me.” Timothy’s blood rose and his patience waned. Okay, Bill, if you and Frank have such great business heads, why are you both so broke that you couldn’t help us when we needed it? Timothy walked away and greeted arriving visitors. Bill and Frank looked at each other.

For the next couple of hours, people came and went, mostly Mom’s friends and acquaintances. The church women showed up and told Timothy the Bereavement Committee planned a lunch for the family in the church basement for after the burial. He thanked them and felt relieved because he had given no thought to this at all. In an awkward attempt to make small talk, one of Mom’s neighbors asked Timothy what he planned to do with the house. Relief arrived when Timothy saw a familiar face at the entrance.

“Tim, I’m sorry about your mom. I know how dedicated you were to her. I read about it this morning in the paper and wanted to pay my respects,” Father Schmitt said.

“Thanks, Father. It means a lot that you came by. I guess you’ve seen more than your fair share in life,” Timothy said.

“My share, that’s for sure. Fair? I don’t know about that.”

“Do you ever get used to it?”

“No, not really. Mostly because someone is hurting. I never get used to seeing people hurt. I don’t know that I would ever want to get used to that,” Father Schmitt said.

“Good point.”

“Are you doing okay?”

“I’m making it,” Timothy said.

“That’s all you have to do today—just make it. Your grief will settle over time once it finds a space to rest in your mind. At least the semester is over, and your exams are behind you.”

“Yeah, that’s a relief.”

“Speaking of school, Professor Leibert came by to see me the other day, and your name came up in the conversation.”

“Really?”

“Yes. When things settle down over the next few days and you get a chance, come by my office and see me, will you?”

“Sure, Father. What about?”

“Let’s not talk about it tonight, Tim. It’s not the time or the place.”

“Sure, Father. Thanks for coming. Would you lead us in a prayer for my mom?”

They walked to the coffin, and Father Schmitt silenced the room as he led them in prayer. After a few moments of silent reflection, Father Schmitt met the rest of the family, offered his condolences, and said his goodbyes.

Timothy stood by himself in the middle of a crowd, alone with his thoughts. Leibert. What’s he doing, snitching on me? Big deal, I missed an exam. It’s not like I committed a crime. At least Father had the decency not to go over it here.

“Hey, soldier boy.” This greeting startled Timothy, but he recognized the voice.

“Hey, Kenny. Thanks for coming.” Kenny knew how to clean up for a wake. Under his wool peacoat, he wore a nearly white shirt, black pants, and a tie with a knot as big as his fist. The small end of the tie hung longer than the fat end. Timothy appreciated the effort.

“Sorry about your mom. She was a nice lady. Always treated me polite. Made me those cookies, you know.”

“I know, Kenny. How did you hear?”

Cheryl walked up.

“Hi, pretty girl,” Kenny said.

“Hi, Kenny. Glad you came,” Cheryl said.

“Yeah, me too.”

Timothy knew Kenny didn’t read the paper, so he asked again, “How’d you hear?”

“Oh, yeah, Hoffen came by this mornin’ to talk to Dez about somethin’ and told me. Boy, I don’t know what they was talkin’ about, but Dez sure was pissed when Hoffen left. Dez and Ed was red-faced as hell when I went into the shop,” Kenny said.

“Oh, Hoffen. Gosh, I forgot to call him. I bet he’s disappointed I didn’t call.”

“Oh, he probably understands, Tim,” Cheryl said.

“God, I forgot to call Dez and tell him too. I was supposed to go in today and talk to him,” Timothy said.

“Yep, he ain’t happy about it but knows your mama died,” Kenny said.

“Okay, I’ll deal with that later,” Timothy said. “Would you like to see my mom?”

“Nope.” Kenny shook his head. “Dead people scare me. I wanted to come by and pay respects.”

“Okay, thanks for coming, Kenny.”

“Yes, thanks, Kenny,” Cheryl said.

“Alrighty, see you two.” Kenny left without looking at the coffin.

Bill and Frank pressuring me about the house, Father Schmitt talking about Leibert, and Dez mad at me for not stopping by. What else can I fit on my plate today?

“Pretty good turnout for the old gal. What do you think, little brother?”

“Yeah, Frank. It’s nice. Mom would be proud,” Timothy said.

“I’m sure she would. Listen, Bill told me he talked to you about selling the house to pay the bills. He thinks it’s a good idea, and I agree with him. Have you given it any more thought?”

“Not for a moment, Frank,” he said. Timothy wondered how much of this he could listen to. Cheryl squeezed his forearm. He saw this as her way of asking him to show some restraint. Leslie saw the brothers talking and came over to join the conversation.

“You boys okay?” she said in a way that really wasn’t a question.

“Yeah, we’re fine. Frank wants to talk about selling the house right here in front of the coffin and all of these visitors,” Timothy said—in a measured tone, thanks to Cheryl.

“Frank, how could you, for goodness sake?” Leslie said.

“I thought since we’re all here we could—”

“Frank, how about we bury our mother first. Then we can deal with the business side of this,” Timothy said and looked away. At that moment, Scoot showed up. “Gotta go, Frank.”

After viewing Mom, they walked out into the hallway for privacy. Timothy unloaded on Scoot. Leslie and Cheryl stood at the doorway and watched the two of them.

“It’s hard to imagine, sometimes, that Timothy can tell Scoot anything, but it feels like he’s holding back from me,” Cheryl said.

“Those two have been through a lot. Timothy doesn’t feel he has to impress Scoot. They take each other as they are,” Leslie said.

“I hope we get to that point, someday.”

“You will.”

The crowd thinned as the evening wore on. Only the immediate family remained. Timothy looked tired, physically and emotionally.

Cheryl approached Timothy and asked, “Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah. We made it through tonight and have to get through tomorrow. After that, Frank and Bill will be gone, and Leslie and I can get back to normal, whatever that is.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Cheryl said.

“No thanks, I’m talked out.”

“How about we go get a bite to eat? You haven’t eaten in hours,” Cheryl said.

“I’m not hungry, just tired.”

“Do you want some company tonight?”

“No, thanks. I think I want to be alone for now. You understand, don’t you?”

“I guess I do. Are you ready to leave or do you want to stay for a while?”

“I think I want to stay with Mom for a while. Leslie and Ike are leaving. You could hitch a ride with them if you want,” he said.

“Sure. That’s fine. I know you want to be here alone with Mom. Would you like me to come by tomorrow and get you before the funeral?”

“No, we’re going to meet here first and go to the church. You can meet us here if you like.”

“Would you like me to ride with you to the church?” Cheryl said.

“Sure, if you want.”

“What I want to know is if you want me to be with you?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Okay, I’ll be back here in the morning.” She leaned over for a hug and kissed his cheek. He returned a strong hug and held on long enough to reassure her he wanted her there in the morning.

“Goodnight. Thanks for being here with me today,” Timothy said.

“Goodnight, Tim,” she said.

Timothy stood in the middle of the room. Frank and Bill left. Cheryl left with Leslie and Ike and the children. Timothy and Mom were alone again. He stood for several minutes staring at Mom. He approached the coffin and knelt down on the kneeler provided at Catholic wakes. He prayed silently for a few minutes and said goodnight to Mom. He stood to leave.

“How are things?”

Timothy turned around. “Hoffen, how long have you been here?”

“A few minutes. I didn’t want to interrupt. Let’s talk.”

They sat in a couple of chairs.

“Hoffen, how do I deal with all this?” Timothy asked.

“You know that life is not fair or unfair—it’s just life. It’s difficult but not impossible. Despair and hope are largely the result of the choices people make. I know you will choose the right path. It’s who you are.”

Timothy pushed back. “What about this pain?”

“Feel it. Don’t fight it. This is supposed to hurt. Go home to your empty house. Listen for the voice that is silent. Smell the meals Mom used to make. Enjoy those memories. Then, feel the loss. Grieve. People don’t really get over things. They just get on with life. Moving on is the magic because it is the natural rhythm of life. Getting stuck in time is unnatural. Live the memories, love the memories, and loosen your grip on the pain. That hole you feel right now will fill with new experiences and memories. That is the natural rhythm I’m talking about. That’s your mom’s final gift to you—the empty space to fill with new life.”

Timothy put his face in his hands and cried. Hoffen rested his hand on Timothy’s shoulder and said, “Someday you will be able to talk about this without a tear on your cheek.”