-Frozen Ground

Dad handed moms funeral arrangements completely to Clarke and Betty Lou in the days after the crash, and didn’t really get involved.  He asked me in the hospital if I wanted to go to the funeral, to say goodbye to mom, as he put it.  I must have said yes because a short time later I was fitted into a new suit jacket and shirt.  The pants of my little outfit had to be cut up the seam so they would fit over my bulky cast.  I thought that I looked pathetic and helpless. 

Then I was placed in a wheelchair and trundled out of the hospital to a limousine and we drove through the dead and frozen countryside to the Trinity Chapel.

Two solemn young men in suits whom I didn’t know lifted the wheelchair up the stairs at the front of the church then one of them maneuvered me up the isle toward my family, gathered in the pews near the front.  As I passed by, people stared at me with sad looks and stony faces.  It made me feel quite self conscious.

In one row, I saw my friend Greg Miller.  He smiled meekly at me and waved slightly, but then looked away as if he knew that by doing so he was being bad for not exhibiting the proper sorrow.  I smiled back at him.  It felt good to see him. 

Nobody else smiled.  Many were crying.  Mournful organ music flowed through the chapel.  I was wheeled to the front and stopped, sitting near the wall on the outside of the pew.  I felt exposed, and vulnerable.  I felt ridiculous and stupid looking in the bandage that covered my head like some kind of grotesque helmet.

Just in front of the wide steps leading to the pulpit was a drape covered cart.  On the cart was a closed casket.  It was light oak and very beautiful, for a casket.  It was the first time I had seen one, and it wasn’t at all what I had thought they were supposed to look like.  I had pictured, when my aunt had explained to me what it would be like at the funeral, that it would be one of the elongated hexagonal coffin looking ones like from the old western movies or Halloween parties.  This one looked like a nice piece of furniture, with elegant lines and understated accents – like mom. 

Inside and well concealed, she lay in a blue dress that Betty Lou had picked for her.  It was one that my mom had told her once that she thought had made her look pretty.  I wished then that I could have seen her once more, before they put her forever in the ground.  I am glad now that I didn’t, of course.

Clark surveyed the crowd that had amassed in the church.  The pews were full and the space behind them was packed with people standing with no place to sit.  The knot of people extended beyond the door and out into the parking lot where they stood straining to hear.  People wept and dabbed at their eyes intermittently.  In the tower, the bell tolled out slowly.  The tragedy of my mom had really brought out the community.  It was good to see how many people she touched in life.  I have heard others say that your funeral is the true mark of the life that we lived.  If this was true, my mom had a very rich life indeed. 

The organ bellowed out hymns while every one settled, then gradually merged into the signature ending chords of ‘ahhhhhh-meeeeen!!” and fell silent. 

For a few seconds the only sounds were intermittent sniffles and the occasional cough.  Clarke bowed for a moment to compose himself, and then lifted his head to the crowd that was bathed in the tinted sunlight that spilled through the stained glass windows of the little church.  He began to speak.

Clark spoke of our sorry mortal state and the need to accept god as a way to immortal life.  Bruce and Ken both sang songs proclaiming God’s greatness.  I don’t know if I bought any of it or not.  I don’t think I did.  I only stared at mom’s coffin.  Its image would return again and again to haunt my dreams as the symbol of her for many years.  It never has really left me. 

When the sermon was over they wheeled her out and placed her in a white hearse.  I was taken back to the limousine with my dad and we followed the hearse out of the lot and towards town.  They took her to a cemetery on the outskirts of Lincoln, and Clark spoke a little more at the gravesite service.  It was still cold, but the sun shined brightly.  Clark stood back as mom’s casket was lowered into a grave which had been excavated from the frozen soil.  Her final resting place, as it were.  The attendance was among the largest he had ever seen at a funeral.  People had surrounded the grave ceremony in a large tight crowd, and he had to speak loudly for all to hear his words.  He didn’t mind. 

Clark stood dutifully by as the last few people sauntered slowly away, some approaching him first to shake his hand and congratulate his sermon.  He felt good about it.  He had done his duty and helped a family and friend in need.  After awhile he was all alone standing beside the grave. 

Presently, workmen arrived and began to disassemble the grave service and fold up plastic chairs.   Clarke looked at the coffin.  He thought of mom, and what she had been like.  He thought about the pity of her death, and her kids, and dad. 

Then his thoughts turned toward his own kids and his own wife and his family.  He was acutely aware in that moment that he loved them all very much.

Nearby, a large statue of Jesus stood.  His head was bowed with an expression of solitude on his face.  His crucified hands down and held with palms facing out to show the wounds to his mortal flesh caused by his Roman tormentors.  He held them exposed - a gesture of comfort to those who would suffer their own wounds in this life.  Clark walked over to him and read the inscription on the statue’s base.  It was a familiar passage from John 3:16. 

It said:  “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life."  

Clark thought about that for awhile and touched the icy cold stone robe of the statue.  He didn’t always understand Gods plan, but he knew it was not his place to ask questions.  He just knew that there was a plan.  There had to be.  He knew mom believed in God and was a good Christian, and therefore had that guarantee of everlasting life, even through her tragic death.  Even so, it had been a long and sad few days.

Suddenly he felt tired. 

Emotion swelled up in him and with a sob, he bowed his head and began to cry at the base of the image of his Lord. 

Nearby, my mother was lowered into the frozen ground.