In a Moment's Notice (WIP)

Genealogy

Terry’s funeral was held in a large church in Jacksonville Florida. All the pews were filled, but no one stood. Patrick was sitting in the front on the right of his father. Why do family and relatives wait until tragic moments like a funeral to get together? Being so young, Patrick hadn’t attended very many of these things, but he knew he hated them.

He watched as his father rose one of the pall bears, as the casket left the church, Patrick cried fresh tears. He had already said to his father this morning.

“I’m not going to the graveside. I’m not.”

“Sure you are son.”

“No. I can’t. I don’t want to see him being put in the ground.”

He had felt his dad’s hand pat his arm. “You really will get over this.”

Somewhere deep down inside, he knew he would move on. But the pain in his chest, tightening his breath, the agony in his head, tangling his thoughts, made him feel like an eternity would pass before he ‘got over this.

He had managed to make it through the graveside, and now, everyone gathered at the house of his father’s sister, Aunt Lillian’s house. Lilly was the oldest, then Daniel, and Terry. Lillian marred a famous plastic surgeon and practically disappeared from the family tree; busy with garden parties and social clubs. Terry was the only one of them who came out of childhood not really caring about money. If truth be know, Patrick was glad his dad was the CEO with seemingly and endless supply of money, but he would have liked to see his father more often than during the summers.

Approached by strange people all afternoon, lots of friends and family came up to hug Patrick, offering condolences. He tried to figure out how everyone was connected, it wasn’t easy. The toddler who kept following Patrick around belonged to Stacey, Lilly’s daughter. Her husband was an associate at some law firm and only stayed for the church service. Patrick remembered Stacey from rare family get togethers He always admired her confidence.

There was an elderly couple that smiled and looked alike. They shared friendly dispositions and repeatedly told Lilly, Daniel and Patrick they were sorry for the tragic loss. Even though everyone called them aunt Phyllis and Uncle Sherman, they were really cousins of Patrick’s dad. Patrick liked them. He overheard Phyllis sharing her peach cobbler recipe. Several people made comments about her great cooking. How wonderful it would be to have home cooked meals. Especially when he was away at school.

Uncle Ben was there, Lilly and Daniel’ father’s brother. According to Patrick’s dad, he was quite the hell raiser in his childhood. It wasn’t until he was in his early thirties, and fell in love with Aunt Millie that he decided to settle down and have a family. She could be mean and spiteful. Uncle Ben loved her and he never wanted to make her mad. Lots of jokes about them circled around.

Patrick wanted to laugh with the others, as they made jokes and told stories about funny things Terry did, said, or liked. His hopes and dream. The fact was he was too young to die. You were supposed to live long, and die of old age, or cancer or something. Not be taken away by an eighteen-wheeler whose driver fell asleep at the wheel. Patrick watched his father and Aunt Lilly. Both wore signs of visible pain. Somehow, they were able to laugh though, at the jokes. The best Patrick could do was smile. His heart was heavy. His movements slow and cumbersome. Finally, he wandered around the house, finding an empty bedroom; he closed the door, lay down on the bed and cried more tears.

Stacey awakened him later.

“Chandler’s been looking all over for you?” She said. Who cared about the to two-year old? He rolled over, turning his back to her.

“Patrick.” She said.

She sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his arm. “You two were really close weren’t you?” She whispered, compassion in her tone.

“Yes.” He managed to say.

“I really am sorry. I’m gonna miss him two. He always visited us at Easter time. Sometimes, he’d bring a girlfriend with him. He was such a funny man. Always making jokes. Mom got frustrated with him though.”

“Yeah. So did my dad. I don’t care what anybody says, he was great.”

“I know he was.” Stacey reached for his hand and held it tightly.

He wanted her to go away. Yet, he wanted her to say. Obviously, she knew him in a good way. Terry was a comedian. Finding the funny side to everything. His defense against the world.

“Do you want something to eat? I’ll fix you a plate and bring it in here? Mom hates for food to be eaten in any room but the kitchen, dining room and on occasion the den. But I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Sure. That would be great.” He didn’t really want food, but she was trying so hard to make him feel better.

She returned holding a tray with a tall glass of icy lemonade and a plate piled high with food. Fried chicken, green beans, potato salad, sliced tomatoes. The other plate had desserts, fruit salad, a slice of pecan pie, chocolate cake with chocolate icing, a scoop of peach cobbler and some blueberry goop.

“Here, hold this.”

He sat up and took the tray from her. From out of the closet, she pulled a red and black-checkered blanket and spread it out on the floor. They fixed a picnic. She got up and locked the door.

“Mom would kill me.” She said. “Then, I’d have to ban Chandler form seeing her. She’d hire a lawyer for visitation rights for her grandson. It would be an awful mess. So, in order to nip all that in the bud, I’m locking the door.”

Patrick couldn’t argue with that kind of logic. Plus, it made him genuinely smile.