He was there and I could not touch him.

When I look back on when my love passed, I wonder what those around thought of my response.  I loved my Kevin, but to claim or touch an empty body, I can’t do.  I was falling apart inside, but I could not let it out.  He was there and I could not touch him.  I know it is because I have had a thing about open caskets and touching the dead.  It brings back the memory of my first experience with an open casket and what happened after that Mother’s Day Sunday many years ago.

A Sunday afternoon playing with cousins in the yard on a sunny day in May ended on a sad note.  I loved Grandma and loved the time alone I could share with her.  We were celebrating her birthday and everyone was in good spirits, but leaving that little white house that Sunday afternoon made me sad, because Grandma pleaded with my parents to let me stay and spend a few days.  I remember Grandma saying, “Just a few days out of school will not make a difference.”   It made me sad because Grandma and I could not have our way.  It made me sad because I sensed she felt like she would never see me again. 

Here is our story.

Sunday mornings were always busy, with prayers and devotions before breakfast and preparing to go to church.  After breakfast, I run through the French doors and living room into my bedroom to get dressed.  The twins follow me as usual.  I felt like they belonged to me since the day they came home from the hospital.  My parents set up the crib in my bedroom; surely, this meant they were mine.  The stories I have of events in that room!  I dress for church and attempt to help Brenda and Linda.  Later, Daddy comes in with his jar of Brylcreem.  Every Sunday morning, Daddy did his best to tame the tight red curls on the heads of Brenda and Linda.  Brenda and Linda are three years old, five years younger than me.  After we are all dressed in our best Sunday clothes, we pile into the car with the twins sitting between Mama and Daddy, and Ellison and I get into the back seat.  Granny, Murrel and Janice live next door in the house Daddy built for them and they get into back seat with Ellison and me for the ride to church.

The ride to church was never quiet.  Brenda and Linda were never quiet or still.  Janice with her blonde ringlets complains about her hair, Granny holds Ellison in her lap and is repeating the Mother’s Day poem Janice is to recite, and Murrel sits by me staring out the window.  Packed in tight like most families in 1960, we arrive at church and Janice is still complaining.  She hates the ringlets that no ten years old wants, but there is nothing to do about it now that we are at church.

It is Mother’s Day and I am relieved that I do not have to be in the Mother’s Day Program this year.  I am terrified of the lonely walk to the front of the sanctuary towards the altar with everyone looking at me.  Stepping slowly up the steps behind the altar railings to stop in front of the giant communion table to turn and see all the eyes and smiles, freezes me in fear each time.  Our family all sit together as each family does to enjoy the program.  This year, I enjoy the program because I’m not nervously waiting for that walk and I’m anticipating the drive to Grandma’s house for her birthday party.

After church, the drive home is a little noisy.  It isn’t Janice complaining, but it is Ellison, Brenda, Linda, and me anticipating seeing Grandma and Grandpa.  We arrive home and Mama packs the car with the lunch she had prepared that morning.   We change into play clothes and off we are to Grandma’s house.  The four of us bounce on the back seat anticipating seeing cousins, aunts, and uncles.  The drive takes us over the bridges where I knew for sure a troll lives.  The road is covered with a canopy of trees and looks like a tunnel holding a sandy road with three old wooden bridges.  Then, the sun shines on us as we leave the home of the troll, and we sing our songs under a blue sky spotted with white clouds.  Laughter and excitement fills the car as we get closer to Grandma’s house.

At last we are at Grandma’s!  I run in to get the first big hug from my most favorite person in the world.  She whispers that I can go play with the dolls until it is time for lunch.  I sneak into the front bedroom and close the door behind me.  It was now my imaginary world of dolls from another time.  The door to this room is always closed and I only enter with permission, and no one enters without Grandma’s permission.  The room has a big bed with a feather mattress.  When I stay overnight, sinking into the warm mattress makes me feel safe and loved.  Did I say dolls!  Grandma’s collection of porcelain dolls are all around the room and each wearing dresses from another time.  I love to read and each doll is a character from one of my books.  I gently pull a doll down from the cedar chest and I disappear into another time where everyone is happy and no one can hurt me.  It is just me and my dreams until my mother knocks on the door to let me know it is time to eat. 

The house is crowded with some of us eating on a large picnic table outside.  All eight living children with their spouses and seventeen of her twenty one grandchildren are crowded into that little house and big yard.  All celebrating the mother and grandmother we all love.   With boys climbing the sycamore tree and plans for a baseball game being made, we enjoy the good food and laugh at the jokes and tales of my older cousins.  It is a tradition, baseball.  Everyone plays and the game goes on until it is time to go home.  Grandpa always goes to bed for his Sunday afternoon rest, but Grandma sits in her living room with the babies and toddlers too small to be in the pasture playing baseball.  Brenda and Linda brushes Grandma’s hair with the old Stanley hair brush with one standing behind her and the other in her lap.  She is happy to have her family with her. 

As the sun goes down and the afternoon fades away, aunts and uncles pack up their dishes and children for the rides home.  I did not want this day to end.  I love playing with Debbie and Jimbo.  Then, there was Vera Sue, Dianne, Becky, and Nancy, the older cousins I worshipped.  Gradually, each family left. 

Then, as my mother starts to gather her dishes, Grandma says to her, “Let Rose stay a few days.  You will be back on Tuesday.”

I heard the conversation and my heart broke when my mother said, “No, she has to go to school tomorrow.”

I look at Grandma and sense this is it.  I give her one last hug and have a feeling in me that it is the last hug, so I hold on just a little longer.   This dear lady loves me unconditionally as I love her.  When I stay over, Grandma and Grandpa let me read the Bible to them at breakfast, just like my Daddy does at our house.  She has all my favorite books for me to read to her.  “Hansel and Gretel” is my favorite.  As we drive away, I cry.

The sun goes down and I’m in my bed.  The darkness surrounds me as I listen to the owl outside my bedroom window.  The window is open with the cool night breeze filling the room with the scent of the roses from the yard.  The owl starts it's hooting sounds, soft and fading as I fall into sleep and dreams.

As I wake up the next morning, I know what I must wear to school.  I fell this is the day and I will not be sad.  After breakfast, I dress into the red and blue dress Grandma made for me.   She made this dress for me and it makes me feel close to her. 

My father asks, “Why are you wearing that dress?”

All I can say, “Grandma made it.”

My perfect grandmother made this red and blue dress, and I’m sensing in my heart that I will never see her again.

After school as the bus stops in front of our house, Granny is sitting on the porch.  Murrel, Janice, Ellison, and I rush off the bus.   Then, I notice Granny looks sad as she walks down the steps towards me.  She does not address the others, just me.  With no tears, she looks solemn and stares at me alone.

Granny says, “Rose”

My reply, “I know.  Grandma is with Jesus.”

Granny looks shocked, but at the same time, she has that look she gets when I say something about the future.  I think she is scared of me, and I don’t understand why she does not like me.  I’m only eight, you know.  But, she replies back to me, “Yes.” 

I run.  This is what I do.  Running makes me feel good and we have a lot of farm to run.  I end in my secret hide out where I sort my feelings and talk to God.  Talking to God helps me feel better.

Two days later, we return to Grandma’s house.  Everyone is there.  Aunt Allie, Grandpa’s sister is there.  She was with Grandma on Monday morning when she left this world.  Grandma had milked the cow and walked over to Aunt Allie’s house to ask for an aspirin because she had a headache.  Grandma sat on the swing on the porch while Aunt Allie went into the house to get the aspirin.  When she returned, Grandma was dead.  Aunt Allie and Grandma were like sisters and Aunt Allie looks so hurt.  Grandpa is sitting in his usual place at the end of the dining room table with his head on the table.  Everyone else is everywhere and there is no laughter like there was on Sunday when we were celebrating Grandma’s birthday.

I did not expect to see a coffin in the living room.  The door of the bedroom where my dolls sat was open and I walk in and sit on the bed.  Sitting on the bed looking out the door into the living room, my view is the lonely open casket holding the body of Grandma.  I sit and watch.  I can’t cry.  I have already cried.  I just sit and watch as each person stops and looks at Grandma.  It did not make sense to me.  My Grandma is in Heaven.  Why is she in that coffin?  I understand why everyone is sad.  I’m sad.  I will miss her forever.  I’ll miss the hugs.  I’ll miss everyone eating her biscuits.  I did not like her biscuits, but I will miss hearing how good those biscuits are.  I will miss sleeping in this bed with the soft feather mattress.  I will miss walking with her to milk the cow.  I will miss reading to her.  I will miss the hugs.  I already said that, and I will miss the big soft hugs of Grandma.  There I sit on the bed surrounded by the porcelain dolls looking through the door at the open coffin holding Grandma.

Then, in rushes Aunt Malissa running towards the coffin, she grabs Grandma.  She is wailing loudly and hugging Grandma.  She will not let go of Grandma and she is screaming, “Why?  Why?  Why?”  She will not let go of my Grandma.  She will not let her sleep. 

As the wailing continues, I feel like I’m going to fall.  I’m scared.  I’m falling.

What is she doing to my Grandma?