It was cloudy when we woke up. Pa clapped his hands and said, “Everybody up and at ‘em. We have a lot to do. Get into your best duds and comb your hair.”
Izzy was sobbing softly while he was getting around. I sat on his bed and asked, “You gonna be OK, Big Guy?”
He sniffed and said yes. “It doesn’t seem fair for all this stuff to interfere with Mom’s funeral.”
“Mom always told me, ‘Life’s not fair.’ It’s not fair she had to die so young. It’s not fair for you to grow up without her. But, we will get by. And she will get by in a much better place. You know how she hated the cold. She won’t have to feel the cold anymore. As to interfering with her funeral, we will go take care of her and do whatever we need to make sure she has a peaceful spot to rest. You’ll help with that won’t you?”
“Yeah, sure. It just seems like this other stuff should have come at a different time.”
“You got that right, Big Guy. We will go make it as right as we can and hope that is good enough. You know it will be good enough for Mom with you helpin’. She will appreciate anything you do for her.”
I gave Izzy a little hug, and he gave me a little smile. I wished that I believed everything I just told him. It wasn’t fair and no amount of funeral flowers would set it right. We started getting ready again.
Pa actually locked the door of the house when we left. I bet it was 10 years since that old lock had turned. Pa put the shotgun into the back seat where either he or I could get at it. We headed into town.
We dropped Sam and Pete and Izzy at the funeral parlor. “We will both go to pick up Mrs. Corrigan and Kevin,” Pa said. “Wait for us here,” he told the boys and the undertaker.
Pa and I retraced our route back to the Corrigan place. Mrs. Corrigan came out still fastening her bonnet. Kevin had on a newish jacket, a string tie and clean shoes. “You clean up well, Kev.” I told him.
“You look about the same.” He joshed me. I admit my shirt cuffs were frayed on the edges, but everything was clean – well, mostly. I rubbed the toes of my shoes on back of my pant legs.
“You both look fine.” Mrs. Corrigan offered.
When Mrs. Corrigan saw the gun, she looked at Pa and asked, “Are we expecting trouble?”
Pa said, “There won’t be any trouble if we are ready for it.” Pa added, “Maggie, if you know where the house key is, you should lock it up.”
Mrs. Corrigan looked seriously at Pa. “Zack, you are expecting trouble!”
“No, Maggie. It is just a case of not being sorry if we don’t take easy precautions. This is a dangerous man. Two people are dead on his account that I know of. Let’s not be sorry later to save a little inconvenience now.”
Mrs. Corrigan relented. She silently went and found the key hanging on a hook by the door. She locked the front door and tucked the key into her bag.
Finally, we headed into Hackett using the same short cut. When we arrived at the funeral parlor, the horse drawn “Moriah” was standing in front. A pair of black horses with black feathered headgear stood ready to draw the glass and shiny black hearse. The undertaker gave us instructions on how we were to follow “Black Moriah” to the church.
The funeral men and Pa and Pete and Sam were to be pall bearers. Pa asked me to drive the car to the church and take the gun and put it out of sight in the church. “I am sorry to ask you not to walk with your mother, but we need to have the gun handy and I don’t think she would want the gun seen in her procession.”
I told him it was all right.
I drove down the street, took the gun into the still empty church and put it out of the way. People out front were gawking at me while I toted the gun in. People were gathered in front of the church waiting for the procession. I took my place with the little crowd. I could see the pall bearers were loading the casket now. One of the undertakers mounted the seat of the wagon and snapped the reigns to start the horses. The slow walk to church started down the street. In a few minutes, Pa, my brothers, Mrs. Corrigan and Kevin and William and Merica Neighbors arrived with my mother’s coach. Pa motioned me over. I took the place of one of the undertakers and helped carry my mother into the church.
When the casket was secured on its pedestal, we all sat down. “My Friends,” the minister began, and he followed with a thousand words that showed he did not know my mother at all. But, she would have wanted this. She believed in a God like the one in every Christian church. I figure different, but today is for her, so here we all are. “Amen.” We all said at the end of the service.
The Preacher announced the ladies of the church had prepared a meal for the friends and family of Letha Neighbors Daniels that would be available after the burial in the common room next door to the church. He had finally said something I agreed with.
Again, mother made her slow trip to Moriah, and Moriah began the slow trip to the cemetery that was about two and one half miles out of town. I loaded up four older ladies in the REO who would have had a hard time walking the distance. I put the shotgun in the boot of the car and we followed the procession up the hill to Mom’s new grave.
She would have liked the spot. There is an old black walnut tree to shade her. Squirrels will play here in the fall and winter. Bright colored birds will be her flowers in the spring. Many of her friends from church are already here. Many more will be. The preacher made some more empty promises over her and recited the 23rd Psalm. So, now we leave my mother and Izzy’s mother to keep our spot for us someday. Goodbye,Mom.
It took all day to finish the funeral, what with the lunch at the church and all the relatives trying to pack a 10 year reunion into our fleeting minutes in town. Then Mrs. Corrigan’s REO began taking anyone who needed a ride back to their homes. It took half a dozen trips to get all the old folks and Mrs. Corrigan delivered safely to their houses. Finally, the Daniels family packed into the REO and we started home as the sun got low in the south western sky. I was dog tired when we turned into the drive up to the house.
We were clustered on the porch. We checked the larder. The warmer weather made it useless for keeping food a long time. The turkey smelled bad. It didn’t look like we would get another meal from the generous bird. There was some of Mrs. Corrigan’s casserole, but not enough for five men. Pa pushed the door open. We all realized at once what it meant that the door was unlocked. Pa started to pull the door shut when we heard, “Don’t do it, Mister,” come from inside the house.