Grandpa George stood stoically next to Clare. Jamie stood on the other side, holding Grandpa’s hand. Helen stood beside Jamie. Paul Howser stood next to Helen. George and Clare had graciously opened their home to Paul who’d flown into Chicago and then taken the train to Bloomington so he could say a final goodbye. There was a small lead lined wooden casket which held an urn of ashes, there were spring flowers. A priest from St. Thomas’ placed his hand on the casket and said a blessing. Then he spoke to the crowd. George heard the priest’s words as a drone, not English, just sound, a Gregorian chant.
George remembered standing here, in this spot with his mother and father, who were now buried next to the area of fresh turned dirt. At the time, they’d waited the full five years required by California law to have Gerald declared dead. At the time of the memorial, George had been the same age as when Gerald had gone missing. His mother and father had needed closure, even if they didn’t know what happened. George’s mom had grieved her son until her passing. George had been bitter the day of the memorial. He thought it a waste to bury an empty coffin, to put of a stone when it really marked nothing. He’d never told his parents his brother’s secret. He had let them believe their son was just the gifted mathematician, who went on an ill-fated fishing trip. He’d never told them. He’d been bitter and angry with his brother.
This time, George thought, this time, there is a body, or at least Gerald’s ashes. This time, we know what happened. This time, I’m not trying to bury the past. We are finally, truly laying Gerald to rest. George still had a lot of mixed emotions when it came to his brother. He’d only recently begun grappling with forgiveness. Forgiving Gerald, forgiving himself. This was actually the third burial - first was Gerald’s burial at sea; second was the burial of the spirit, the memorial service; and now this. A final interment.
Jamie could feel his grandfather crying softly through the twitches in his hand. No tears fell, but Jamie knew. He gently squeezed his grandpa’s hand. He reached over and took Helen’s hand and she in turn took Paul’s. They were a chain of people from Gerald’s life and legacy. Jamie hadn’t been to a burial service before. He knew there were different ceremonies depending on whether the funeral was in the church, whether there was body or cremains present; a burial service was another separate ritual. To consign the body. Jerry had first been consigned to the sea, then fire when he was cremated. Now earth.
When the prayers were finished, the small casket was lowered into the ground. Each member of the small party threw a few flowers into the grave. Then handfuls of dirt. People came over to offer George their condolences. Unlike when he was in his twenties, he accepted the well wishes and good thoughts and prayers. Admiral Kearsarge had a few quiet words with George. Even from a short distance, Jamie couldn’t tell from his grandpa’s reaction whether what the admiral said brought comfort or grief. Seeing her grandson’s concern, Clare went and put her arm around Jamie.
“The admiral said that Gerald died a hero. And that you’re something of a hero for getting all of the facts into the open. Your grandpa has had to old onto a lot of old rocks. They’ve weighed heavy on him. You’ve given him a chance to put the rocks down.”
The family, and Paul and Helen started toward the waiting cars as the cemetery workers began gently filling in the hole with shovelfuls of dirt. The sound was a gentle snick swoosh goomp. It reminded Jamie of the noise of water against the pilings on Navy Pier in Chicago. They were going to go to a local restaurant and have a light lunch. Jamie wasn’t sure he was hungry. He noticed he and Helen were still holding hands. Paul had gone ahead to talk to Jamie’s mom.
All of this, and it ends with a small urn that hardly weighed anything, set in a lead lined box - because of the thallium. Helen let go of his hand and put her arm around Jamie's waist. She rested her head on his shoulder.
“I’m glad you’re here.” She said.
— Lkai
George remembered standing here, in this spot with his mother and father, who were now buried next to the area of fresh turned dirt. At the time, they’d waited the full five years required by California law to have Gerald declared dead. At the time of the memorial, George had been the same age as when Gerald had gone missing. His mother and father had needed closure, even if they didn’t know what happened. George’s mom had grieved her son until her passing. George had been bitter the day of the memorial. He thought it a waste to bury an empty coffin, to put of a stone when it really marked nothing. He’d never told his parents his brother’s secret. He had let them believe their son was just the gifted mathematician, who went on an ill-fated fishing trip. He’d never told them. He’d been bitter and angry with his brother.
This time, George thought, this time, there is a body, or at least Gerald’s ashes. This time, we know what happened. This time, I’m not trying to bury the past. We are finally, truly laying Gerald to rest. George still had a lot of mixed emotions when it came to his brother. He’d only recently begun grappling with forgiveness. Forgiving Gerald, forgiving himself. This was actually the third burial - first was Gerald’s burial at sea; second was the burial of the spirit, the memorial service; and now this. A final interment.
Jamie could feel his grandfather crying softly through the twitches in his hand. No tears fell, but Jamie knew. He gently squeezed his grandpa’s hand. He reached over and took Helen’s hand and she in turn took Paul’s. They were a chain of people from Gerald’s life and legacy. Jamie hadn’t been to a burial service before. He knew there were different ceremonies depending on whether the funeral was in the church, whether there was body or cremains present; a burial service was another separate ritual. To consign the body. Jerry had first been consigned to the sea, then fire when he was cremated. Now earth.
When the prayers were finished, the small casket was lowered into the ground. Each member of the small party threw a few flowers into the grave. Then handfuls of dirt. People came over to offer George their condolences. Unlike when he was in his twenties, he accepted the well wishes and good thoughts and prayers. Admiral Kearsarge had a few quiet words with George. Even from a short distance, Jamie couldn’t tell from his grandpa’s reaction whether what the admiral said brought comfort or grief. Seeing her grandson’s concern, Clare went and put her arm around Jamie.
“The admiral said that Gerald died a hero. And that you’re something of a hero for getting all of the facts into the open. Your grandpa has had to old onto a lot of old rocks. They’ve weighed heavy on him. You’ve given him a chance to put the rocks down.”
The family, and Paul and Helen started toward the waiting cars as the cemetery workers began gently filling in the hole with shovelfuls of dirt. The sound was a gentle snick swoosh goomp. It reminded Jamie of the noise of water against the pilings on Navy Pier in Chicago. They were going to go to a local restaurant and have a light lunch. Jamie wasn’t sure he was hungry. He noticed he and Helen were still holding hands. Paul had gone ahead to talk to Jamie’s mom.
All of this, and it ends with a small urn that hardly weighed anything, set in a lead lined box - because of the thallium. Helen let go of his hand and put her arm around Jamie's waist. She rested her head on his shoulder.
“I’m glad you’re here.” She said.
— Lkai
I love glimpsing the interior of Grandpa George. Very well done. And Helen and Jamie finally make contact of some sort. But this is not the last chapter, is it? (Macoff)
ReplyDeleteNo, although things might not be quite linear anymore. I'm writing things that I want to include, but maybe not in the right order. I *Think* that the "Interlude" i turned in (the Your Ancestors prompt) Is the end of this. (lkai)
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