Read Online Safe & Sound by T.S. Krupa - Free Book Online
Authors: T.S. Krupa
Tags: General Fiction
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week.
“Looks like it’s gonna be just you and me kid,” Harry said, and while his statement was probably meant to be comforting, a small knot began to form in my stomach. The thought made me uneasy. “Listen. You wanna get out of here and go grab a drink or something? Change of scenery would be good for you,” he said.
“I really shouldn’t. I’m trying to write a eulogy,” I explained.
“I see. I’m not a detective or anything, but looked to me like you were playing on Facebook.” He paused. “Should you really be doing that anyway … writing a eulogy?”
“I want to do this.”
“You’re better with words than I am. Jay will get a kick out of it. You up there in front of all those people saying something from that journal of yours … the one you are always scribbling away in. Yea. That will make him happy.”
“Why don’t you see if Stella or Lanie want something? I’m sure one of my so-called babysitters needs to get out,” I said quietly. I hadn’t realized Harry knew about my journals.
“Yea. Sure. I’ll go see.” He paused as if he had something further to say but thought better of it.
----
I sat there in Jay’s chair for hours, unsure of what to say. I started so many different versions of what I wanted to say, but none of the words I put down said exactly what I wanted to convey. How do you sum up a life in a couple moments? It was morbid, but I thought back to all the funerals or memorial services I had attended in my lifetime. The list was short. I had attended my mother’s funeral when I was younger, the funeral of my grandmother on my father’s side several years after that and Lanie’s grandmother’s funeral a couple years earlier. Nothing helped.
I spun around in the chair to look at the vast collection of books that sat on the large oak bookcases behind Jay’s desk. Skimming over the titles, I found the book I was looking for. It was old and tattered and the pages had yellowed with age. Pulling it down, I gently flipped through its pages. This particular book had been mine by default. When I was younger, my mom had taken me to a pumpkin patch around Halloween. I was determined to pick the best pumpkin that year and I walked through that patch, picking up and inspecting each pumpkin. Under one particular pumpkin I found a book. My mom turned the book in to the older woman who was working the register. The woman said they would keep the book just in case someone returned to claim it, but if no one claimed it within the next two weeks, she would mail it to me. Sure enough, two weeks later, the book arrived in the mail with a short dedication to me, written on the inside cover. I was so excited I asked my mom to read to me from the book almost every night. The book was mostly poems and short stories and at that time I don’t think I understood most of the tales. After she died, I put the book away for a long while. Now, I held the book in my hands, looking for guidance. As I flipped through its pages, a particular entry caught my eye, and as I read through it, I knew I had found what I was looking for: a way to say good-bye.
CHAPTER 8
----
‘“When Tomorrow Starts Without Me’ by David Romano,” I started to say, my voice shaky as I opened the faded book to the page I had dog-eared the night before and set it on the podium. I could feel the tears stinging my eyes and I paused to take a ragged breath, trying to steady myself. I looked out into the sea of somber faces of friends and family. Taking one last, deep breath I started to read.
When I was done I closed the book and slowly walked back to my seat, passing by Jay’s coffin and letting my hand trail along the outside edge of it. The church was silent except for the occasional sniffle or cough. I took my seat next to Stella, who reached over and grabbed my hand. I closed my eyes and let out a big sigh and started to cry.
CHAPTER 9
----
T he only people left in the church were Harry,
“Looks like it’s gonna be just you and me kid,” Harry said, and while his statement was probably meant to be comforting, a small knot began to form in my stomach. The thought made me uneasy. “Listen. You wanna get out of here and go grab a drink or something? Change of scenery would be good for you,” he said.
“I really shouldn’t. I’m trying to write a eulogy,” I explained.
“I see. I’m not a detective or anything, but looked to me like you were playing on Facebook.” He paused. “Should you really be doing that anyway … writing a eulogy?”
“I want to do this.”
“You’re better with words than I am. Jay will get a kick out of it. You up there in front of all those people saying something from that journal of yours … the one you are always scribbling away in. Yea. That will make him happy.”
“Why don’t you see if Stella or Lanie want something? I’m sure one of my so-called babysitters needs to get out,” I said quietly. I hadn’t realized Harry knew about my journals.
“Yea. Sure. I’ll go see.” He paused as if he had something further to say but thought better of it.
----
I sat there in Jay’s chair for hours, unsure of what to say. I started so many different versions of what I wanted to say, but none of the words I put down said exactly what I wanted to convey. How do you sum up a life in a couple moments? It was morbid, but I thought back to all the funerals or memorial services I had attended in my lifetime. The list was short. I had attended my mother’s funeral when I was younger, the funeral of my grandmother on my father’s side several years after that and Lanie’s grandmother’s funeral a couple years earlier. Nothing helped.
I spun around in the chair to look at the vast collection of books that sat on the large oak bookcases behind Jay’s desk. Skimming over the titles, I found the book I was looking for. It was old and tattered and the pages had yellowed with age. Pulling it down, I gently flipped through its pages. This particular book had been mine by default. When I was younger, my mom had taken me to a pumpkin patch around Halloween. I was determined to pick the best pumpkin that year and I walked through that patch, picking up and inspecting each pumpkin. Under one particular pumpkin I found a book. My mom turned the book in to the older woman who was working the register. The woman said they would keep the book just in case someone returned to claim it, but if no one claimed it within the next two weeks, she would mail it to me. Sure enough, two weeks later, the book arrived in the mail with a short dedication to me, written on the inside cover. I was so excited I asked my mom to read to me from the book almost every night. The book was mostly poems and short stories and at that time I don’t think I understood most of the tales. After she died, I put the book away for a long while. Now, I held the book in my hands, looking for guidance. As I flipped through its pages, a particular entry caught my eye, and as I read through it, I knew I had found what I was looking for: a way to say good-bye.
CHAPTER 8
----
‘“When Tomorrow Starts Without Me’ by David Romano,” I started to say, my voice shaky as I opened the faded book to the page I had dog-eared the night before and set it on the podium. I could feel the tears stinging my eyes and I paused to take a ragged breath, trying to steady myself. I looked out into the sea of somber faces of friends and family. Taking one last, deep breath I started to read.
When I was done I closed the book and slowly walked back to my seat, passing by Jay’s coffin and letting my hand trail along the outside edge of it. The church was silent except for the occasional sniffle or cough. I took my seat next to Stella, who reached over and grabbed my hand. I closed my eyes and let out a big sigh and started to cry.
CHAPTER 9
----
T he only people left in the church were Harry,
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