Ten

Caitlin spent a lot of time crying at the wake. She had been accompanied by her grandmother Veronica and her aunts Candace and Lori. There was much sadness, and that was compounded by the number of people at the funeral home. There was a long line of people waiting to pay their respects, folks who had known Kathleen for years and years.

As the hours melted away, Caitlin felt she couldn’t look at her mom. She had been aware of the dress her mom was wearing, she had chosen the particular coat and pearls to match, but she just couldn’t get near the coffin. It wasn’t that her mom looked horrifying. In fact, her makeup was wonderful. The day before, her brother Todd had even seen to the final touches.

But finally, as the procession of people began to dwindle, as people started to leave the viewing room, Caitlin began to inch her way over toward her mother. When she actually got close, standing beside her mom, she felt the need to look at all the flowers and photos that had been placed around her. Being close to her mom for the last time, Caitlin suddenly felt comforted by her mother’s presence. Caitlin couldn’t help but remain there. She absolutely didn’t want to leave her mother’s side.

With everything else fading into the background, Caitlin stayed frozen, just communing with her mother. Her mom looked at peace. She looked pretty. Instead of feeling afraid, Caitlin loved being there beside her.

Then, the next thing she knew, Caitlin was informed that the funeral home would be closing. As much as it hurt her, Caitlin had to say her good-byes. It was so hard for her to walk away, but Caitlin knew she had to.

As she approached the funeral directors downstairs, ready to make her way out of there, Caitlin was told that Michael had placed a last-minute call. Michael and the rest of the family were on their way down to the wake. The funeral home had agreed to stay open for an extra few minutes. Caitlin was kind of upset about it.

Caitlin had already been through the trauma once. She had been through all the tears with her grandmother, her aunts and uncles, and cousins. But now, for Michael’s sake, she would have to relive all of it again. She really didn’t want to stay for Michael’s arrival, but she had to. It wasn’t just for Michael. It was for her brothers and sisters that Caitlin would endure.

Michael and his children arrived, all of them escorted by his brother Bill, and Caitlin joined along, being led upstairs again. By that time, the funeral directors had already taken Kathleen’s jewelry off her, those things would be left to Caitlin, and they had already closed off most of the hallway lights.

It felt odd, the way the family had this moment of utter silence at the side of Kathleen’s coffin. With the room as cold as ice, Margaret and Martha began to cry. Todd and Clayton looked shaken.

But it was Michael who was unquestionably the most physically upset at the sight of Kathleen. He was just so overcome with grief. He was shaking; then he began sobbing, holding on to the casket, where he knelt near his dear wife. Caitlin felt how much Michael was connected to her mom. She could see his pain. As she reached over to Michael to comfort him, Michael called her the “vision of her mother.” Caitlin began to cry, and the other children stepped back.

Finally it was Caitlin alone at the coffin with her stepdad. Neither one of them had the strength to pull away. It seemed like forever, but Caitlin realized that Michael needed his private time to say good-bye to his wife, that he had to be the last one to see her , so she joined her brothers and sisters, who were already downstairs, waiting outside by the car.

The next day, for the funeral, Caitlin wore a dress that her mom had insisted she buy for her. Caitlin thought it was weird, the way that had worked out. She recalled going shopping over at the mall in Raleigh with her mom, the summer prior. There were two black dresses on sale, stunning dresses really, but Caitlin had liked one, and her mom had liked the other. In the end, Kathleen opted to buy both, even though Caitlin really never expected to wear the more conservative choice.

Yet, suddenly here she was, just months later, wearing that very dress that her mom so dearly loved. It wasn’t black, actually, more midnight blue, and Caitlin was glad it was something her mom liked. She was glad that she wasn’t wearing the same black sheaths that the rest of the family donned.

But the funeral became surreal, especially for Caitlin. Just as soon as she stepped out of the limo, it didn’t matter what anyone wore, or what words were said. It was all just too unbelievable. There was no way for Caitlin to reconcile with the facts. It just didn’t seem possible that her mom was never coming back.

For all of them, without doubt, Kathleen’s service was painful. Nothing any preacher could say would lessen anyone’s shock, would make their hurt go away. All the talk of Heaven, of all the angels in the universe, was of no consolation to the Petersons.

Kathleen’s burial at the Maplewood Cemetery, right in the heart of Durham, was even more difficult. Michael hadn’t wanted a burial; he had wanted cremation. So it was only the immediate family in attendance, and with no headstone yet to mark the grave, there was this sense of overwhelming disbelief.

Immediately after the burial, the family went over to Manno’s, a local home-style restaurant, where they ate a quiet meal. It was an uncomfortable time, really, especially because everyone knew that the police had come back to the Peterson house. The police had been there on the very night of Kathleen’s wake; they had served a third search warrant. The Durham police seemed to be so uncaring about the family—they were indecent, really, as far as the Petersons were concerned. The way the police mishandled things, having the audacity to interfere with Kathleen’s wake and funeral, it was as though they had no heart.

Most of the family had been made aware that the police had gone to test Kathleen’s body prior to her wake. The police had actually served a fourth search warrant at the funeral home. It was unthinkable to them, but the police apparently had reason to administer a sexual assault kit on Kathleen. No one wanted to discuss it. There was an intruder theory that had become a part of the local media reports. It was just unreal to all of them that Kathleen’s death would be so full of public speculation and rumor.

Kathleen’s sisters, Candace and Lori, were anxious to leave the restaurant as soon as the meal was finished. They were exhausted, still in shock, and wanted no further part of the public attention their sister’s death had brought them. Candace and Lori had already checked out of their hotel rooms. They wanted to get back to their lives in Virginia, to feel the safety of their homes, of their own beds. And as much as anything, they were concerned about their poor mom. Veronica, a woman in her eighties, who was going to take turns being hosted by her two remaining daughters.

As the day began winding down, it was Michael and Caitlin who slowly walked Candace, Lori, and the others out to the parking lot. Caitlin was saying very little, but Michael wanted to talk to Veronica, just once more. He wanted to share a private moment with her, to console her about the loss of her daughter, before she left the Durham area.

“I know how much you miss Kathleen. No one knows that as much as I do,” Michael told her, his voice quivering.

“Yes, I miss her. I miss my daughter,” Veronica said, breaking down into tears.

With that, Veronica leaned on Michael’s shoulder. As Michael began to cry, Veronica’s sobbing became tenfold. Michael was very emotional, trying to tear himself away, not wanting to say good-bye. Michael was feeling increasingly sorry for the whole family, but he was particularly sorry for Kathleen’s mom, who never should have had to bury her own beautiful child. Michael promised to call Veronica in a week or two.

As he hugged Veronica one last time, Michael wanted her to know that she was always welcome back to his home. He wanted her to come back to visit him and the kids whenever she felt up to it.

“You know, I’ve always called you Ronnie,” Michael said. “But now, if it’s okay, I’d like to call you Mom.”

The comment made Veronica cry all over again. She was already haunted by the idea that her daughter had died in that great big house. The thought of returning to that home—once filled with such life, such love—was too much for her.

Caitlin couldn’t stop crying as she waved good-bye to her grandmother and aunts. Trying to break the sorrow, Candace asked her niece if she’d be up to Virginia to visit sometime soon. Caitlin thought she might drive through Virginia on her way back home from Cornell, so the family would have some kind of get-together.

Caitlin didn’t really want to think about it, but Christmas was only two weeks away.