Read Online Family Blessings by Lavyrle Spencer - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lavyrle Spencer
Tags: Fiction
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expect: a man compassionate yet businesslike, asking the questions his occupation required him to ask.
Death certificate statistics first--birth date, birthplace, progenitors' names, social security number. Facts were easy. The more difficult questions followed--what day they wished to have the services, the visitation time, did they want an organist, a soloist, did they have a cemetery plot, what about flowers, lunch after the ceremony, printed memorial folders? Did they want an open or closed casket? Did she have a recent picture of Greg? Who would act as pallbearers?
At this point Lee seemed beleaguered so Lloyd stepped in. "Young Lallek spoke to me about it yesterday. It seems there'll be law-enforcement officers from all over the state at Greg's funeral.
When one of their s ranks dies, that's how it is. Would you want some of his fellow officers to act as pallbearers, Lee? There seems no question they'd be honored if you'd let them."
"Yes . . . oh, yes. And wouldn't Greg like that. He loved being a policeman so."
Lloyd squeezed her hand, smiled his benevolent smile. "And if you'd permit a doting grandpa--I thought about this last night when I couldn't sleep--I'd love to give a eulogy."
If it were possible to love Lloyd Reston more Lee would have done so, but all her married life she had loved him for exactly the qualities he was displaying now--lovingness combined with unflappable calm. She had learned so much from this man.
In answer to his question she smiled and turned her hand over to squeeze his. "I know your grandson would approve. Thank you, dear."
They went into a room full of caskets and tried to be analytical rather than emotional. Lloyd finally pointed at a gunmetal silver one and said, "I think I like that one. It's about the same color as that first car of Greg's that I financed for him when he graduated from high school."
They left the funeral director's with a promise that they would call back with the names of the pallbearers for the obituary and would return later that day with a set of Greg's clothing.
There was no avoiding it any longer. This above all pierced the heart--facing the place where he had lived, made happy plans for the future, stored the artifacts of his day-to-day life.
"Well, Dad," Lee said when they were back in Lloyd's car. "I guess it's time to face Greg's apartment."
He reached across the seat and took her hand. "Nobody ever said being a parent was easy. You have to weigh the responsibilities against the rewards. This is one of them. Maybe it'll help to think about all the joy he brought to your life. Remember that time when he and Janice were little and they decided to make you and Bill an anniversary cake?
The cake turned out just fine, but, as I remember, they didn't know what confectioners' meant so they used plain sugar in the frosting."
"And we ate it." Lee grimaced at the recollection.
"And that Mother's Day when he built you that little birdhouse."
"I still have it."
"I predicted then that that kid was sure to end up being a carpenter.
He was awfully handy with a hammer."
"Remember when he was in high school track? Gosh, how I used to enjoy going to those meets."
They went on reminiscing until they reached Greg's apartment.
When the engine was cut, they sat looking at the building, loath to approach it.
Lloyd asked, "Do you want me to come in with you?"
"Yes," she whispered. "Please."
Christopher answered their knock, freshly shaven, his hair neatly combed, dressed in jeans and a polo shirt. Lee took a look at his puffy eyes and knew he'd had one hell of a night.
"Hi," she said simply and took him in her arms. They remained together for as long as they needed, remembering yesterday and how they'd been the first two to know, to console each other, to face the calamity. He smelled like fresh after-shave and felt sturdy yet vulnerable as Lee rocked with him, her eyes closed and her heart heavy.
When they parted Chris said, "Hi, Lloyd, how are you?" The
Death certificate statistics first--birth date, birthplace, progenitors' names, social security number. Facts were easy. The more difficult questions followed--what day they wished to have the services, the visitation time, did they want an organist, a soloist, did they have a cemetery plot, what about flowers, lunch after the ceremony, printed memorial folders? Did they want an open or closed casket? Did she have a recent picture of Greg? Who would act as pallbearers?
At this point Lee seemed beleaguered so Lloyd stepped in. "Young Lallek spoke to me about it yesterday. It seems there'll be law-enforcement officers from all over the state at Greg's funeral.
When one of their s ranks dies, that's how it is. Would you want some of his fellow officers to act as pallbearers, Lee? There seems no question they'd be honored if you'd let them."
"Yes . . . oh, yes. And wouldn't Greg like that. He loved being a policeman so."
Lloyd squeezed her hand, smiled his benevolent smile. "And if you'd permit a doting grandpa--I thought about this last night when I couldn't sleep--I'd love to give a eulogy."
If it were possible to love Lloyd Reston more Lee would have done so, but all her married life she had loved him for exactly the qualities he was displaying now--lovingness combined with unflappable calm. She had learned so much from this man.
In answer to his question she smiled and turned her hand over to squeeze his. "I know your grandson would approve. Thank you, dear."
They went into a room full of caskets and tried to be analytical rather than emotional. Lloyd finally pointed at a gunmetal silver one and said, "I think I like that one. It's about the same color as that first car of Greg's that I financed for him when he graduated from high school."
They left the funeral director's with a promise that they would call back with the names of the pallbearers for the obituary and would return later that day with a set of Greg's clothing.
There was no avoiding it any longer. This above all pierced the heart--facing the place where he had lived, made happy plans for the future, stored the artifacts of his day-to-day life.
"Well, Dad," Lee said when they were back in Lloyd's car. "I guess it's time to face Greg's apartment."
He reached across the seat and took her hand. "Nobody ever said being a parent was easy. You have to weigh the responsibilities against the rewards. This is one of them. Maybe it'll help to think about all the joy he brought to your life. Remember that time when he and Janice were little and they decided to make you and Bill an anniversary cake?
The cake turned out just fine, but, as I remember, they didn't know what confectioners' meant so they used plain sugar in the frosting."
"And we ate it." Lee grimaced at the recollection.
"And that Mother's Day when he built you that little birdhouse."
"I still have it."
"I predicted then that that kid was sure to end up being a carpenter.
He was awfully handy with a hammer."
"Remember when he was in high school track? Gosh, how I used to enjoy going to those meets."
They went on reminiscing until they reached Greg's apartment.
When the engine was cut, they sat looking at the building, loath to approach it.
Lloyd asked, "Do you want me to come in with you?"
"Yes," she whispered. "Please."
Christopher answered their knock, freshly shaven, his hair neatly combed, dressed in jeans and a polo shirt. Lee took a look at his puffy eyes and knew he'd had one hell of a night.
"Hi," she said simply and took him in her arms. They remained together for as long as they needed, remembering yesterday and how they'd been the first two to know, to console each other, to face the calamity. He smelled like fresh after-shave and felt sturdy yet vulnerable as Lee rocked with him, her eyes closed and her heart heavy.
When they parted Chris said, "Hi, Lloyd, how are you?" The
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