the ground.
I couldn’t understand why the weather had to be so awful. The day was awful enough without all that rain. Instead of having BJ’s funeral in Paradise, we had to have it at Uncle William’s church, with that mean Reverend Sanders. Pastor John came, though. He sat in the back. Him and Doc Smythson.
Gran’s casket had been open and me and BJ each wrote a note to Gran that we put in beside her. We told her how much we loved her and missed her already. Pastor John told funny and wonderful stories about Gran that made us laugh and cry to think about her. Me and Mama and BJ talked about how good the service was and how it made us feel that Gran was right there with us in our hearts.
But Aunt Ethel Mae said no one should ought to have to look at a child in a casket, so the casket was closed afore people walked into the church. I begged Uncle William to let me see BJ one more time so’s I could put his magic train and a letter I wrote next to him.
“Please, Uncle William, you got to let me say good-bye to him. Mama ain’t here to do it.” I felt like crying again, but my tears was all dried up. Aunt Ethel Mae kept harping at him not to take me, but he told me to get into the car. I ran to get the train and my letter, and then we went to the funeral home in Poca. They was getting ready to take BJ to the church, but Uncle William asked them to let me see my brother.
After making us wait a bit, the funeral director led us to a little room. I walked over to the casket and got a shock. BJ looked like a doll instead of a boy. They had put makeup on him. It was okay for Gran to have makeup on for her burying day. She always wore powder, lipstick, and a little bit of rouge to church. But it sure didn’t look right on BJ.
It wasn’t my brother lying there. I thought about him laughing up in Heaven about them making him look like a girl. This was just his remembering place. So I put the magic train and letter in with him. To remember. But I knowed his magic train had already carried him away to Heaven.
We walked inside the church later that day, and people kept coming up and saying how sorry they was. I didn’t even know most of them. I’m real glad they at least had enough sense not to say nothing about Mama, even though they was probably thinking bad things about her.
Reverend Sanders read the obituary from the paper, and then he started ranting and raving about how peoplesin and should ought to get theirselves right with the Lord. He never talked none about BJ. He never said how smart and funny he was. He never said how BJ knowed more about God and the Bible and being a Christian than he ever would. To him, my brother was just some words on a piece of paper. To me, he was sunshine and rain all wrapped up in one package. He was my brother, and now he was in a place far away where I could never ever touch him or hear him laugh again.
After Reverend Sanders got done yelling at people, they took my brother out of the church and into a hearse. Uncle William was a pallbearer with some of his friends from work.
Aunt Ethel Mae and me followed the casket down the aisle. When we got to the back of the church, Pastor John stood up and put his arm around my shoulders. “You and your mama are in my thoughts and prayers, Lydia,” he said. I looked up at him and tried to smile my thanks.
I could tell he wanted to say more, but Aunt Ethel Mae real quick said, “Lydia, we need to get to the car.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me away. She sure had enough time to get hugs and gushy words from some of her friends when we got outside, though. Some people told us they was real sorry they couldn’t come to the cemetery, but they didn’t think their cars would make it up the hill in the rain.
As it turned out, it was just the hearse, Uncle William’s car, and Doc Smythson’s jeep that made it up the steepcemetery hill with that curvy dirt road that had turned to mud. Reverend Sanders rode in the front seat of the
I couldn’t understand why the weather had to be so awful. The day was awful enough without all that rain. Instead of having BJ’s funeral in Paradise, we had to have it at Uncle William’s church, with that mean Reverend Sanders. Pastor John came, though. He sat in the back. Him and Doc Smythson.
Gran’s casket had been open and me and BJ each wrote a note to Gran that we put in beside her. We told her how much we loved her and missed her already. Pastor John told funny and wonderful stories about Gran that made us laugh and cry to think about her. Me and Mama and BJ talked about how good the service was and how it made us feel that Gran was right there with us in our hearts.
But Aunt Ethel Mae said no one should ought to have to look at a child in a casket, so the casket was closed afore people walked into the church. I begged Uncle William to let me see BJ one more time so’s I could put his magic train and a letter I wrote next to him.
“Please, Uncle William, you got to let me say good-bye to him. Mama ain’t here to do it.” I felt like crying again, but my tears was all dried up. Aunt Ethel Mae kept harping at him not to take me, but he told me to get into the car. I ran to get the train and my letter, and then we went to the funeral home in Poca. They was getting ready to take BJ to the church, but Uncle William asked them to let me see my brother.
After making us wait a bit, the funeral director led us to a little room. I walked over to the casket and got a shock. BJ looked like a doll instead of a boy. They had put makeup on him. It was okay for Gran to have makeup on for her burying day. She always wore powder, lipstick, and a little bit of rouge to church. But it sure didn’t look right on BJ.
It wasn’t my brother lying there. I thought about him laughing up in Heaven about them making him look like a girl. This was just his remembering place. So I put the magic train and letter in with him. To remember. But I knowed his magic train had already carried him away to Heaven.
We walked inside the church later that day, and people kept coming up and saying how sorry they was. I didn’t even know most of them. I’m real glad they at least had enough sense not to say nothing about Mama, even though they was probably thinking bad things about her.
Reverend Sanders read the obituary from the paper, and then he started ranting and raving about how peoplesin and should ought to get theirselves right with the Lord. He never talked none about BJ. He never said how smart and funny he was. He never said how BJ knowed more about God and the Bible and being a Christian than he ever would. To him, my brother was just some words on a piece of paper. To me, he was sunshine and rain all wrapped up in one package. He was my brother, and now he was in a place far away where I could never ever touch him or hear him laugh again.
After Reverend Sanders got done yelling at people, they took my brother out of the church and into a hearse. Uncle William was a pallbearer with some of his friends from work.
Aunt Ethel Mae and me followed the casket down the aisle. When we got to the back of the church, Pastor John stood up and put his arm around my shoulders. “You and your mama are in my thoughts and prayers, Lydia,” he said. I looked up at him and tried to smile my thanks.
I could tell he wanted to say more, but Aunt Ethel Mae real quick said, “Lydia, we need to get to the car.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me away. She sure had enough time to get hugs and gushy words from some of her friends when we got outside, though. Some people told us they was real sorry they couldn’t come to the cemetery, but they didn’t think their cars would make it up the hill in the rain.
As it turned out, it was just the hearse, Uncle William’s car, and Doc Smythson’s jeep that made it up the steepcemetery hill with that curvy dirt road that had turned to mud. Reverend Sanders rode in the front seat of the
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