Bouquet. The smell of it was so dry it brought tears to her eyes. The funeral flowers were doing the same thing to her.
Pam and Bernice, flanked by Lisa and Brent, walked up to the casket and looked in. Bernice brought her hankie to her face. The children began to weep. Pam grew stony. He looked fabulous. How could that be possible? How does someone who looks so good, so healthy, so lifelike, be dead?
“He doesn’t even look dead,” she said out loud. Everyone turned to look at her, but said nothing at first. Then the comments began. “Wow, look at how good he looks! They did a great job! Jack was always so handsome.” Pam muttered under her breath to those immediately around her, “He wouldn’t dare look bad on his funeral day.” They all agreed that it was so Jack. So far, so good. But it was inevitable that it was bound to get more difficult.
When Marie came in, she took one look at the casket and began to wail, “Oh Jack! Oh Jack!” Pam looked around the room for her mother. “Come on, Sis, sit over here.” She dragged Marie over to the chairs. “I have to greet people,” Pam said. She walked back to the casket and stood between her mother-in-law and her kids. Guests began to line up to view Jack’s body.
People took her hand and expressed their condolences, “What a wonderful guy…It was so sudden…We feel awful…” Blah, blah, blah. Pam did notice that eventually the Manhattan contingency arrived, including Sandra Benson. She came with the others from the office, as a “smoke screen,” she had called it, explaining that it would look too obvious if she refused and came alone. But when she reached Pam in the receiving line, she bent down and embraced her, taking her hands and telling her how terribly sorry she was, and Pam felt it was genuine. It was clear Sandra actually felt worse for Pam’s loss than she did for her own.
What was in reality only an hour seemed like an all-day ordeal as Pam greeted all of his golf buddies, some of them crying, and his coworkers and colleagues, including many, many young women who said they worked with him. Hmmm , Pam thought, in what capacity? But said nothing. She would have to investigate this further, at another time. At the funeral, Pam spoke first, thanking everyone for coming to Jack’s final send-off. Bill gave the eulogy, a lovely, funny memoir that did not hide the raucous nature of Jack. Several times, inappropriate though it might have been, the audience broke out in laughter. Oh, he was a comic all right.
The rest of the day went by in a fog for Pam and the rest of the family. She vaguely remembered hearing her nieces and nephews crying or fighting or whining. What a bunch of brats they were. Thank God it was almost over , she thought to herself. Marie held it together, keeping away from Sandra Benson. Nelda kept her close, supporting her. At the graveside, just the immediate family attended. Sandra did not come.
Because of the delay between going to the cemetery and lunch back at the house, just a handful of mourners came to eat. Pam spent most of the time saying goodbye to her loved ones. Bill and Anne were taking Bernice back to the city, Marie was leaving and taking Nelda with her, and Sharon and her family were leaving before traffic got too bad on the turnpike. With each goodbye, Pam became more exhausted. She wished everyone would just leave for their homes and let life get back to normal!
Finally, by 6:00 p.m., it was just her children. Lisa was going to stay until Thursday; Brent had to get back tomorrow. Pam changed into sweatpants and got out the biggest trash bags she could find; everything left from the past three days—every roll, every piece of cake, bowls of unwrapped candy, fruit and pasta salads—was swept away into the trash. The kids got into it as well. Brent went to each bedroom and stripped the sheets off the mattresses, took every towel and washcloth that looked used, and stuffed them into a series of plastic laundry
Pam and Bernice, flanked by Lisa and Brent, walked up to the casket and looked in. Bernice brought her hankie to her face. The children began to weep. Pam grew stony. He looked fabulous. How could that be possible? How does someone who looks so good, so healthy, so lifelike, be dead?
“He doesn’t even look dead,” she said out loud. Everyone turned to look at her, but said nothing at first. Then the comments began. “Wow, look at how good he looks! They did a great job! Jack was always so handsome.” Pam muttered under her breath to those immediately around her, “He wouldn’t dare look bad on his funeral day.” They all agreed that it was so Jack. So far, so good. But it was inevitable that it was bound to get more difficult.
When Marie came in, she took one look at the casket and began to wail, “Oh Jack! Oh Jack!” Pam looked around the room for her mother. “Come on, Sis, sit over here.” She dragged Marie over to the chairs. “I have to greet people,” Pam said. She walked back to the casket and stood between her mother-in-law and her kids. Guests began to line up to view Jack’s body.
People took her hand and expressed their condolences, “What a wonderful guy…It was so sudden…We feel awful…” Blah, blah, blah. Pam did notice that eventually the Manhattan contingency arrived, including Sandra Benson. She came with the others from the office, as a “smoke screen,” she had called it, explaining that it would look too obvious if she refused and came alone. But when she reached Pam in the receiving line, she bent down and embraced her, taking her hands and telling her how terribly sorry she was, and Pam felt it was genuine. It was clear Sandra actually felt worse for Pam’s loss than she did for her own.
What was in reality only an hour seemed like an all-day ordeal as Pam greeted all of his golf buddies, some of them crying, and his coworkers and colleagues, including many, many young women who said they worked with him. Hmmm , Pam thought, in what capacity? But said nothing. She would have to investigate this further, at another time. At the funeral, Pam spoke first, thanking everyone for coming to Jack’s final send-off. Bill gave the eulogy, a lovely, funny memoir that did not hide the raucous nature of Jack. Several times, inappropriate though it might have been, the audience broke out in laughter. Oh, he was a comic all right.
The rest of the day went by in a fog for Pam and the rest of the family. She vaguely remembered hearing her nieces and nephews crying or fighting or whining. What a bunch of brats they were. Thank God it was almost over , she thought to herself. Marie held it together, keeping away from Sandra Benson. Nelda kept her close, supporting her. At the graveside, just the immediate family attended. Sandra did not come.
Because of the delay between going to the cemetery and lunch back at the house, just a handful of mourners came to eat. Pam spent most of the time saying goodbye to her loved ones. Bill and Anne were taking Bernice back to the city, Marie was leaving and taking Nelda with her, and Sharon and her family were leaving before traffic got too bad on the turnpike. With each goodbye, Pam became more exhausted. She wished everyone would just leave for their homes and let life get back to normal!
Finally, by 6:00 p.m., it was just her children. Lisa was going to stay until Thursday; Brent had to get back tomorrow. Pam changed into sweatpants and got out the biggest trash bags she could find; everything left from the past three days—every roll, every piece of cake, bowls of unwrapped candy, fruit and pasta salads—was swept away into the trash. The kids got into it as well. Brent went to each bedroom and stripped the sheets off the mattresses, took every towel and washcloth that looked used, and stuffed them into a series of plastic laundry
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