Ryan Dowling

The First and Not the Last

Nicole hated riding the cheese wagon. The bus ride was long and hot on Alabama summer days and so cold on winter days that the mucus in her nostrils froze to her nose hair. Today, however, she would not mind if the ride from school lasted a little longer on this breezy, cloudy spring day; a little longer so she would not see her last grandfather exit her house forever.

Before Nicole reached her destination, someone spoke on the bus, “Why is there a cop at your house, Nicole?” Nicole looked curious when she bent over to look out the window from her standing position and shook her head with an “I dunno” expression. Then she saw the writing on the van sitting and waiting to be loaded on her gravel driveway, “Tuscaloosa Coroner’s Office”. Just as she read the words her bus driver, Mrs. Darla, confirmed with her ole south ways what Nicole thought, “Oh Nicole, I’m so sorry. If there is anything I can do call me.” The truth of the matter was Nicole’s grandfather was dead and there was nothing she could do about that.
As Nicole looked around, she could feel the stiffness in the air as if the air she breathed resembled nothing near the refreshing coolness of a spring day’s gentle reassurance of life. She saw her aunt who lived next door beckon her and her siblings, Danni and Alan, to her aunt’s front yard as they exited the bus, “Stay here until they leave.”

“What happened Aunt Nette?” asked Danni.

“Your grandfather passed away this morning. Your mother went to run some errands and when she came back with his lunch she found him dead in his bed.”

“Is mother okay?” Nicole wondered, while looking at the dead body being rolled out of her beat up, green front door.

“She will be okay; it’s going to be hard. Losing your last parent is harder than losing the first. And after all that care she’s provided, I don’t know how she is going to get through this.”

Danni shuddered and began to cry as she leaned into her aunt’s shoulder. Aunt Nette held her close and whispered, “It’s going to be okay.”

“I’m going over to see mom.” Nicole stated as the coroner and cop left the driveway. She watched as her mother sat on the white railing porch with green concrete floors, staring into memories of yesterdays. Nicole wandered what the next strategic move her mother had in mind. She found out.

“I can’t stay here any longer. Let’s go somewhere. I’m hungry, are you hungry?” asked Vera, Nicole’s mom, in a dazed state.

“Sure,” Nicole replied, not really hungry, just wanting to get away from the house, too.

As they piled into their blue minivan in silence, each one of them looked at the yellow shutter and green walls house that had felt so full of life twenty-four hours earlier and now it was tainted with death; empty of all life. They looked at the house one last time before rounding the corner trying and failing to forget the events of the day. On the way to Wendy’s for supper, the usual fighting between siblings did not play out, the usual casual talk after the fight did not take place, and the usual radio volume did not drown out the fading conversation between mother and daughter; instead, silence flowed through the van capturing the pain that felt too real for the four of them.
The next two days were surreal for Nicole; each hour passed revealing a new problem that would take another hour to solve. This seemed funny to Nicole because on occasion she would joke about her grandfather being so much of a hassle, but to tell the truth he was a hassle. Of course, it was not his fault that when a person is mentally retarded a lot of time and effort goes into taking care of such a person. And Nicole’s mother spent a lot of time and effort into taking care of him. Nicole worried about her mother. Vera stayed awake the first night her father, Willie, passed away. Nicole remembered waking up at two a.m. and then at four a.m. to still see her mother sitting in their living room with a blank expression on her face. Nicole loved her mother and despised seeing her mother in this state, but there was nothing she could do to ease the pain. Not being able to help her family killed a little bit of Nicole, too.
The viewings morbid festivities were brought on by a massive thunder storm and flash flood warnings. In all, about twelve to fifteen people arrived for the viewing. No matter the number, it was beautiful. Pawpaw was handsome in his casket, his two daughters and their five children were there by his side, and the flowers arranged in the room brought life back into their deadly state. Nicole was the last person to see her grandfather, she needed to be. As she walked out, Nicole patted her pawpaw's chest and whispered quietly like so many nights before, “Good night, Pawpaw.”

The funeral arrangements were completed, the pall bearers were in place, and the preacher finished his sermon; all preparing to carry Willie out to the hearse. When Willie was placed in the hearse, his followers filled their cars, and made their way to the burial with a police officer leading the front. The ride was long and filled with respectful silence.

The burial was like any other burial. The green turf lined the outside of the 6x6 hole, steel chairs marked the place were the intermediate family would sit, and the canopy that told  passerbys a burial was taking place hung over the burial site. In grief, Nicole watched as her mother and Aunt Mary sat next to each other grasping hands for comfort, staring down into the filled gravesite. The preacher said his final words, everyone bowed their heads to pray, and Willie was forever put to rest in his new bed.

After the ceremony, Nicole felt a sense of liberation flow through her body and mind. Not because she was glad to see her last grandfather be buried, but because she figured out why she was so at peace with his death. Ever since she heard of what happened to her grandfather in his mid twenties, she has always felt sorry for him; hoping that one day he would wake up and not be mentally retarded or physically handicapped by a rock crusher that fractured his scull. Her hopes came true. Nicole’s grandfather was now in a place where he could bathe without help, talk clearly without losing his train of thought, and be the man God intended him to be in Heaven. Nicole would miss her grandfather for the rest of her life and still think that he lived in the backroom of her house, yet still, she did not regret that her grandfather died because his death taught her even though the funeral was the first and not the last in her lifetime she was okay with that. She was okay with death and the thought of something better after death.

The thought after death was calming to Nicole, almost bringing tears to her eyes. She saw her grandfather, a man of integrity and brilliance, walking with the angels, lifting wood obviously too heavy for him to build mansions for the newcomers-not because it was a chore, but because he wants everything to be ready for the new arrivals. She could see him talking to his mother and father about old times and catching them up on stories of how he would bother Vera about every little thing: “Vera, when dinner?” “Vera, what time is it?” he says to them with a smile. It was those thoughts that gave Nicole peace, those pictures of heaven that told her her grandfather was okay.  

 At the reception, Nicole sat contently with her family, remembering her grandfather who would have been honored by the ceremony and burial. Her mother looked relieved to have a decent funeral for her last parent that seemed almost impossible in the beginning, her sister and brother looked jaded and respectful by the events of the day making them seem older beyond their years, and Nicole thought in quiet of how one man could impact so many lives, even if it was twelve to fifteen. And on that cool, fresh spring day with life in every molecule of nature, she could feel her mentally retarded, physically handicapped grandfather as though he was standing next to her; being the grandfather that she loved and would adore forever.

Whisper

There are things in the air,         
Can only be defined by things
Whispering
Saying the words of the angel of light
Saying the words of the fallen one
Whispering
Waiting
Come with me
Patience is a virtue
Whisper ever so softly
Breathe ever so deep
Think ever so thoughtful
Whisper nothing
Whisper nothing but God help me.