Handkerchiefs were in ample supply, wiping teary eyes and mopping damp brows. The voices were robust in song, and the sermon was inspirational and delivered with passion, but the expressions were sombre. Mr. and Mrs. Jefferson sat composed in the front pew, comforted by their three other children. Jay’s closest friends, including Kenneth, Jenny, Sean, Lisa, Marshall and Kathy, sat in the pew behind the family. Later, outside at the graveside, everyone stood and watched, transfixed as the coffin descended slowly into the ground. There was no sound, no breeze, no movement, until the first shovel of dirt was thrown into the grave and thudded onto the casket. Mrs. Jefferson was visibly shaken by the sound, and she could hold back the tears no longer.
Her outburst was the catalyst for an avalanche of emotion that thundered into the hole in the ground.
‘Mercy Jesus!’
‘O death! O death! Where is your sting? Mercy!’
‘O sweet Jesus!’
...were some of the cries from the gathering around the grave.
Jay’s grandmother bent over and moaned, hugging her stomach. Her black wide-rimmed hat fell from her head onto the ground. One of the gravediggers bent down, picked it up and passed it to a young boy, of maybe ten or twelve, who was smartly dressed in a black suit, and who was bravely trying to hold back the tears.
‘Whoa! Whoa! Jesus help me! Mi baby dead! Whoa! Lawd help me Jesus!’ Grandma Jefferson moaned.
Mrs. Jefferson had to be held up by her two remaining sons, as her legs seemed to buckle suddenly. The crowd behind them parted like the Red Sea, as the young men tried to lead Mrs. Jefferson away from the graveside but she refused to go. Her angry glare informed them that she was adamant. She was staying.
‘Abide with me, fast falls the eventide; the darkness deepens, Lord with me abide …’ the minister started to sing.
Slowly, the wailing subsided, as people started to sing the well-known Christian hymn. A cloud passed in front of the sun, offering some relief from the intense midday heat, accompanied by the puff of a cooling breeze.
‘… Through cloud and sunshine, O abide with me …’
The singing increased in volume as the cloud passed by and the sun returned with a vengeance.
Mr. Jefferson picked up a clump of dirt and threw it into the rapidly vanishing hole in the ground. He lost his balance as he threw the handful of dirt and he landed on his hands and knees. The singing stopped, as everyone watched Mr. Jefferson stare at the grave from his knees. The gravediggers waited. Mr. Jefferson’s head dropped and his body shook.
‘… where is death’s sting? Where, grave, thy victory? I triumph still, if Thou abide with me …’ The minister began singing again.
‘Why?’ Mr. Jefferson threw back his head, as he shouted at the heavens while the gathering tried to sing. ‘Why did you take my son?’ he shouted. His daughter stooped beside her father and hugged him.
‘… Hold Thou Thy cross …’ they haltingly sang.
‘Why?’ he shouted.
‘… Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies …’ they continued.
‘Answer me! Why?’ One of the sons, the older of the two who had been holding up Mrs. Jefferson, knelt down beside his father, opposite his sister and also hugged him.
‘In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.’ The song ended and the congregation fell silent.
‘Why?’ Mr. Jefferson whispered.
His son and daughter helped Mr. Jefferson to stand, allowing the gravediggers to continue with their task of filling the hole in the ground. Within minutes, the hole was no more. Squares of grass were patiently and carefully placed over the mound of dirt by the gravediggers, after which they slowly and quietly retreated.
In silence, the congregation stood, staring at the corrugated patch of grass.