The Past
“AND MIZPAH; FOR he said, the Lord watch between me and thee when we are absent one from another,” Father Babineaux recites to the small crowd. His voice bellows over the chirping birds and passing cars.
That was her favorite Bible reading. She’d read it to me countless times. Looking back, I think she tried to ink these words into my being, a reminder she would always be with me. Maybe she always planned for the day she would leave me. Sadly, this brings me no comfort. Inevitability is no consolation. My heart is heavy, sagging in my chest with this unimaginable loss.
I sit in the front row of the cemetery service and grip Audrey’s hand to center me. I lay my head on her shoulder, and her cheek rubs my hair. Instead of a full church service, I opted to tell Grams goodbye with a short wake at the funeral home and a graveside service.
The doctors say she died of a massive stroke. They told me over and over that no amount of time would change the outcome. An hour earlier, ten minutes sooner, it would’ve made no difference. But how could they know that? I see their assurances for what they are—empty words. Promises with no other purpose than to erase a stupid girl’s guilt.
Why in the hell did I go to that meeting with Mr. Bernard? Those extra minutes could have made all the difference.
Father Babineaux looks at me expectantly, and only then do I notice he’s no longer talking. Taking that as my cue, I stand on wobbly legs, clutching the white rose in my hand. The thorns bite into my flesh, and I grip even tighter. I wear her St. Jude pendant around my neck, the weight crushing my chest, making it hard to breathe.
I approach the casket and place the rose on top. I stare at my reflection in the varnished wood and search for the words buried deep within me. How do you say goodbye to the only parent you’ve ever known?
My heels sink into the softened ground as I press my forehead into the wood. I will myself to forget the sight of her on the bathroom floor. I want the image wiped from my brain, replaced with memories of her crocheting in her chair, lying in bed saying her rosary, leaning over my bed to kiss me goodnight. Those are the things I want to remember. She lived a life of strength and unconditional love—I refuse to remember her in a moment of helplessness.
I open my mouth to speak, but my voice cracks from lack of use and days of crying. I clear my throat and try again.
“Thank you, Grams. Thank you for being the perfect example of grace and strength. I could use your strength right now,” I say as a tear splashes onto my chapped cheeks. “If I’m half the woman you were, I’ll be amazing.”
I grip St. Jude in my fist and pull, feeling the metal chain digging into the back of my neck. “Maybe one day, things won’t feel so hopeless. Maybe with you watching over me, I won’t need St. Jude after all. I’ll pray … I’ll wish … I’ll hope for that day."
I feel Audrey’s presence behind me, and she squeezes my shoulder to let me know she’s there. I close my eyes and pretend we’re the only two people here. I try to forget her parents, who walked me through the process of planning the funeral. I erase Harold, Grams’s nurse, from my mind, as well as Grams’s bingo friends and their looks of pity.
I don’t have to worry about dismissing Lucas from my thoughts, because he isn’t here.
“Come on, Celia, just stay with us for at least a few days. I don’t want you in this house all alone. Besides, I’ll be leaving for summer session next week. I want to spend time with my best friend,” Audrey pleads.
I shake my head and give her a tiny smile. “I appreciate it, but I need to be here. I feel closer to her in this house. Her things are here … it smells like her.”
“How about I stay here with you? I’ll grab my pajamas and be right back.” Audrey is already in the process of standing when I nudge her knee to sit her back down.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Aud, but I’d like to be alone. Between the funeral and the bingo bitties bringing casseroles by all afternoon, I want to enjoy the silence tonight.”
“Okay,” Audrey says, sounding defeated.
“I’ll be fine.” I give her a tiny smile to reassure her, but I doubt I’m very convincing.
“I love you, Celia.” She averts her eyes and breathes deep, warding off the tears building in her eyes. “You’re my family … my sister. You are not alone.”
“I love you, too, Audrey. Always.”
Her words are a balm to my soul. I can’t shake the emptiness I feel knowing Grams was my last living relative. My mother never confided in Grams about my father, so as far as I’m concerned, he’s dead, too. It’s sobering to know I’m all alone in the world. Audrey and the Landrys are the closest thing to family I have now.
She makes no move to leave. She watches me closely, waiting for something. For what, I don’t know.
I decide to stand and walk into the kitchen. Although I’m not hungry, I feel weak. It may be a good idea to shove something down before I pass out. Lord knows, I’ve got more than enough to choose from in the form of covered dishes.
“Celia, wait,” Audrey says. “Look, I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I’m so sorry Lucas wasn’t there for you today. It’s … it’s inexcusable, and I plan to march across the street right now and throat punch his sorry ass.”
I try to wave her off, but I can see it’s only making her angrier. She takes my dismissal as a sign that I’m okay with his behavior, and it only further irritates her. She’s oblivious to Lucas’s problems, and without that knowledge, I’m not sure I can make her understand. The hard truth is I didn’t want Lucas there today.
From the moment I told him about Grams, he spun a web of conspiracy that made Watergate seem like child’s play. No matter how much I tried to talk him down, he was convinced her death was a ploy to get him out in public. Without the safeguards of his house, his thoughts would surely be stolen. He swears the ‘reinforcements’ he’s built are keeping him safe—they look like strange sculptures crafted out of aluminum foil to me, but what do I know? Not much, according to him.
I just couldn’t deal with it today. I wanted to say goodbye to Grams without worrying about how Lucas would handle things. I deserve that, and so does she. So when I suggested him staying home, a huge weight lifted off me when he readily agreed. I can’t bring myself to feel guilty about it.
Trying my hardest to choose words that will placate Audrey, I smile and shrug. “He’s been so good with me the past few days, Audrey, but you know how he can be with crowds. He gets so nervous and pushes to leave—I couldn’t deal with that today. Him staying home today was for the best. Things are difficult with Lucas right now, but everything will be fine, I promise.”
Audrey doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t push. She opens the front door and steps across the threshold before turning to me. “If you say so, Celia, but I’ll kick his ass if you need me to. Hell, I’ll even enjoy it. Just say the word, and I’ll start the beat down.”
I laugh, and it sounds forced, even to my own ears. “I promise.”
As the door closes behind her, I close my eyes and accept the weight of another promise made.
A rustling in the front of the house jolts me awake, and I stretch my stiff legs. I swing my nylon-covered legs over the side of the bed, having never changed from my funeral attire. I was too exhausted to change, much less shower, once Audrey left last night. I curled up on top of Grams’s bed with one of her crocheted blankets and fell into the darkness surrounded by her scents and her things.
For a brief second, for a beautiful fleeting moment, I think Grams must be getting a midnight snack. Then reality sinks into my gut, reminding of the events of the last week.