It rained that Tuesday. A typical early Autumn day that started out overcast and cold then worked its way up to the predicted top temperature of 25C. As soon as I woke, I hated it.
I owned one black dress – a lightweight summer midi dress which buttoned down the bodice and had pretty flutter sleeves. I liked it but it was totally inappropriate for the weather. I knew I’d freeze in it. I wore it anyway. I couldn’t get any colder than I was and I’d be damned to hell if I was going to wear color on that of all days.
When they carried his coffin out of the church, I joined the rest of my family behind it. Not that she bothered to tell us her plans, but my mother had some weird idea that the remaining family would stop at the door to the narthex and form a receiving line to thank people as they exited the church. I had no intention of doing so.
When the pallbearers turned the coffin over to the undertakers who set about loading it and the wreaths into the hearse, I stood right there watching to make sure all unfolded well. That was my Dad in there. Nobody could have torn me from that spot. I was right where I needed to be; outside in the freezing cold in my light summery dress taking care of business. Screw the receiving line pleasantries.
At the cemetery, they had a basket of rose petals we could sprinkle onto the coffin in lieu of dirt. That was probably a good idea seeing as how all the graveside dirt was soaked through.
When I stepped forward and went to sprinkle my handful, I nearly screamed at the sight of him lying at the bottom of a filthy, dirty, muddy hole. We were going to leave him THERE. In that. And for me, it did not compute. I just panicked.
But I’m too well trained and my mother would have pitched a fit had I created a scene in front of PEOPLE and embarrassed HER. I’d never have heard the end of it, so I choked down the panic, and let my petals fly into the ditch.
And we left him there. We abandoned him to the mud, the dank pit, and the groundskeepers who would soon arrive with the excavator.
At the house later, the sun came out. It’s like the world had cried with me during the morning and then decided it was done with that and had now moved on to other, more interesting things.
I didn’t move with it. I sat in a corner surrounded by 3 friends of mine who’d come to support me, and largely stared into space trying to figure out what I was supposed to do and what they expected of me. I couldn’t manage much. In my mind, I kept seeing that ugly hole and I felt like I’d betrayed Dad somehow.
I still saw it the rest of the week until I finally took myself to a beach, found a bench and sat staring at the waves rolling in instead. I spent the whole afternoon there looking at waves and lost in thought.
When I got home later than night, my damn burst and I howled until I had no tears left. It was the first of many such nights.
We left him there. I left him there. I just went along with the social expectations and behaved myself so I wouldn’t “cause trouble”.
If I could have thought of a single thing I could have done to bring him back or leave him anywhere else, I would have raised the Titanic if need be. I drew a total blank on the day and I’m just a blank now.
The best I can manage is go to and sit on a bench at the cemetery, stare at the grave and wish. It doesn’t help. I still walk away feeling like I let him down when he needed me most.
And I did freeze that day and that particular brand of cold has been with me ever since. There are some things you cannot move past. A black summer dress. A deep muddy hole. Rain and cold wind. I don’t wear that dress anymore. It’s stained with memory I cannot bear to relive.
PepSpill 