A Quick Death
Ave Maria thinned into silence as he slouched into the back pew.
… dick splashed me with his umbrella, unbelievable. Some people have no regard for others, my God.
“... together today to remember George McAllum, a quiet light who filled our lives with the radiance of Christ’s love he so humbly received.”
A groan nearly escaped as he rolled his eyes. Restless, his soles squeaked on the polished floor, hand fidgeting around the empty pew beside him.
One of these funerals. There’d better be drinks after this shit. Just joined the firm, and he asks me to come?
“... spoke in anger, no. His anger, his sorrow, his pain, he gave to God. To us, he gave only a kind smile and kinder word. When his diagnosis returned positive, he …”
… and Pop are coming in on Friday, and Jess will be here Saturday evening. She said she’d do the ham, I’ll ask Mom to get eggs and dye for the kids.
His feet had been shuffling him, bit by bit, toward the outside edge of the pew and his hand found the wooden armrest and clung.
“... after treatment after treatment, and what did he do but laugh when the sun shone, weep with stranger and friend alike, and sing, every morning and evening, hymns and prayers for us, not himself?”
… are down two already. I hope to God we don’t drop this series. They’d better keep the relievers fresh for…
His eyes had been closed and, in case anyone noticed, he jolted into a nod as if he were present in this absence of a good man. He closed them again.
“... lost his dearest Annie, he thanked God for their life, and the life she nurtured in their children George Jr. and–
Catherine.” Catherine.
He snapped his eyes open and hazily made out a woman nearing the podium.
Jesus. Of course her name had to be Catherine, and of course at a funeral, and of course on this weekend of all goddamn weekends in the goddamn year…
“... all for the love you’ve shown my …”
Sweat stung shaving nicks under his collar, twinging his turning head in search of a clock.
“... still is. Not just in our hearts, but in Heaven, patiently waiting for us to …”
I’ll buy the flowers. Mom and Pop can take the kids across town on Sunday. That damn stone will be there till mine’s next to it. I’ll visit her then.
A sticky little finger poked his hand stretched across the pew and bright eyes met his and the girl turned back to listen.
“Just before Dad went home, he said, ‘Cat, lately I’ve been thanking God for giving me a quick death.’ When I didn’t understand, he smiled softly and told me, ‘Seven years of cancer, twenty-two without your mother. These are nothing, nothing, Cat, nothing compared with the rest of my being with my Lord, and with my Annie, and with all the others from this short world. My Cat, he gave me my beautiful life and good work to do here, but there is no death quick enough when Jesus is waiting.”
Are we done here? My God.
Thanks for reading. I’m back, at least for now.