The Battered Heiress Blues - By Laurie Van Dermark Page 0,11

hands while Father led the parade to the refreshments.

I had asked that no one attend Connor’s internment. I’d barely made it through the ceremony, knowing that all these strangers were watching me. I refused to allow them to be present when his precious body was laid forever in the cold ground. That moment belonged to me. Hearing footsteps behind me, an outstretched hand came over my shoulder. I opened my eyes and turned to find Henry, standing beside me with tears collecting in his eyes.

“May I carry Connor for you?” His voice cracked as he worked hard to hold back his emotions. His objective for the day was to lend me his strength. He wouldn’t be happy if I had to console him.

I stood with tears streaming down my face and managed to reply, “Would you please?” My face began to feel strained as I tried to refrain from crying, but I wailed out in utter despair when I stepped forward and leaned across my tiny son’s casket, pushing the blanket of roses off onto the floor.

“My baby. My son.”

The sounds of the chapel door closing behind me shook the panes of the stained glass panels. Tommy was adamant about maintaining my privacy, despite my father’s party planning. He appeared at my left side and grabbed hold of my hands. They trembled as I embraced the dark stained wood.

“We’re going to make it through this. Just let it out Julia. No one is here, but us. Say your goodbyes.”

He had given me the permission I needed to unload the world from my shoulders. Henry moved to my right and grasped my waist. I could hear their muffled sniffles as my sobbing came and went.

I had cried for so long and so hard that I suddenly found myself quieted and at peace just holding the coffin. I didn’t know how to let it go. I wasn’t sure I could, knowing that the next step was to tangibly let them put him in the soil that was calling him to rest.

Tommy slowly loosened my fingers from the casket and I stepped back slowly. My body felt weak and I started to fall, but Henry caught my waist and sat me down in the pew.

Sitting beside me, my brother whispered, “Connor’s with Mom, Julia. She’s looking out for him. He’s at peace. He feels only joy in the presence of God.”

“Screw your joy and peace.”

Tommy knew the importance of forward progress. “We should finish the service now, okay?”

Waiting for my approval, I could only offer a nod. There were no words for this. He walked back to the chapel door and opened it, asking the funeral home workers to carry the flowers to the grave. I waited and watched as they removed the countless flowers and sprays that lined the altar and aisles. When they collected the last one, I stood of my own volition and drew a long strong breath. Tommy extinguished the candles and the chapel became dark. I could have stayed in that dark chapel with my son all day.

Henry walked forward to the small coffin and lifted it off the stand. I could still smell the incense burning that Tommy had used during the Mass. We processed into the day- Tommy, then Henry holding Jackson’s son, with me staggering behind.

The last time I had made this walk was to bury my mom. Parents should die before their children. We’re programmed to expect this through old age or illness. No parent should suffer the loss of a child. Grieving a child is unnatural. No mom or dad should have to place a piece of their own heart in the ground. My son was my heart. He was my future. I was as good as dead inside.

The walk felt long, but the cemetery garden sat just behind the chapel through an iron gate, which the funeral director held open for us. Large mature crepe myrtles sat at the four corners of the space. My father had planted cypress hedges around the exterior so people couldn’t see him mourning my mother. I grew up thinking that he was emotionally twisted because of this, but I was now thankful for the privacy. In the center stood a beautiful fountain and an old weeping willow, whose feathery branches relayed a sense of peace. The sound of the water was calming as I approached the grave. My mother was buried on the left and Connor would rest to her right. I had requested no tent