Skeltons

Still a little jet lagged from the plane ride, I wake up a tad groggy and irritable. I've gotten used to not sleeping well as my career choice as a Crime Scene Investigator (CSI), in Fresno county has me working at all hours. However, a full two weeks off is a dream come true. No phone calls in the middle of the night for crime scenes that are sometimes horrendous. Hopefully this visit won't end in disaster. Enough day-dreaming time to rouse her mom, Marie and Aunt Doris. First, I will check on my grandmother.

Quietly I walk out into the hall and walk towards my grandmothers' room. The only sound this early is the ticking of the grandfather clock and early morning chirping of the blue jays on the windowsill. I can tell from the shadow that my grandmother is on her side with a pillow behind her back, facing the window. This morning wasn't gray, but by soothing lavender and brilliant amber. The colors merged into neon pink and peach, the beam of sunlight hitting your face takes on the appearance of an old photograph, one of nostalgia, so beautiful. Then I notice how pale you are, and I touch your skin. I understand immediately that you have passed.

I quickly walk back down the hall and straight to my mothers' room.

"Mom, Doris? Wake up." Grandma is gone.

Mom answers with "What?"

Instantly Aunt Doris unravels herself from the blanket and practically trips over herself running down the hall to my grandmothers' room. SCREAMING! NO!

My mother, on the other hand calmly gets out of bed and goes straight into nurse mode, Samantha get me some washcloths, a couple blankets and a bucket of warm soapy water. Bring it to the bedroom, and while you're in there, start a pot of coffee. As I'm doing what I have been asked I can hear my Aunt Doris, still screaming and overreacting, while at the same time I hear my mother tell her to get a grip and start calling people. By this she means the mortuary, the coroner and the family.

As I walk past my Aunt Doris, I notice her empty glare. A look of anger, fear and relief all at the same time. Although I swear the anger is pointed at me. I ignore it and make my way towards the silent bedroom. Hands full of death tools, washcloths and blankets. I will have to make a second trip to get the bucket of water.

Although I have only been out of this room maybe twenty minutes, the room seems to have changed. The temperature has dropped, the colors that were once warm and inviting are now dark and impersonal. My mother seems to have lost a little more color in her face. It's as if, the grim reaper has sucked all the life out of the room and taken my family with him. My mother had already turned my grandmother onto her back and without a word began cleaning.

My grandmothers' body had turned gray, ghostly pale. Her eyes once the ocean the blue-green hue that carried emotions like storm clouds carried the rain were now vacant holes of an empty body. My grandmother had soared to the other side. What I hoped was her heavenly home that she had told us all our lives she would be, watching over us forever until we met again.

As we waited for the County Coroner, I sat next to my grandmothers' body and a thousand memories flooded my mind. Christmas, Thanksgiving, family reunions. All crowded and full of food. I grabbed a pen and paper and began writing them all down afraid I would forget even a detail. I could hear my Aunt Doris talking on the telephone, probably to family as her voice cracked, attempting to hold her emotions in as she was telling whoever it was that my grandma had passed in the night. She did not want to give away how she truly felt because it would just be on the gossip train the next day.

The coroner inspects the body of a deceased person to identify marks or other empirical evidence that indicates how he or she died. Comes in to give an official death decree and wraps the body in a black bag zips them up and puts them on a death gurney. Wheeling them out and into their little trucks.

A week passed, we had scheduled the funeral, paid in full. The date would be on a Saturday. Family was coming in from out of town. Several had already showed and had set up in motels around Wichita. We were having a family get together on Thursday night once everyone had gotten into town. I was neither sad nor excited about seeing these long-lost relatives. I knew my grandmother had siblings and each of her siblings had kids. However, I hadn't seen her sisters in years. Of course, we were all grown now. Catching up with each other would be the majority of the get together. Why was it that nobody ever got together unless they're was a death in the family? There had not been a family reunion since I was nineteen, twenty-six years was a long time to go without one phone call or a visit. Despite my true feelings I went along with the get together. The chatter among our family sure seemed to last forever. The food just kept coming. Homemade peach cobbler, Dutch apple pies and all the fixings. You would have thought we were all gathering for one of Grandma's famous holiday dinners. As the last of the stragglers walked out the door, we hugged and promised not for the first time this week, that we would keep in touch. The funeral was set for ten O'clock in the morning on Saturday.

Before we knew it, Saturday morning was here. Everyone who was leaving together from the house, showed up dressed to perform their family duties of unity. My mother and Aunt Doris were both dressed differently. Aunt Doris, of course wore nothing but black and every ounce of flesh and bone showed through. Especially her cleavage. However, no one said a word. For everyone in the family knew that before the day was through, she would somehow make the day about her grief. My mother was more conservative about it. She wore black also, but it was a nice pantsuit. My Uncle Ben, the only brother left, had showed with his wife and son whom I hadn't seen since I was a child. He looked sophisticated. Right down to his black loafers. His wife my Aunt Delana was absolutely decked out in black silk, making everyone else look homely.

The three siblings would ride together in the limo, while the rest of the family followed behind them. Arriving at the church, watching from my back window of my car as everyone parked and got out. I waited to see everyone's reaction to this day. Most were dressed appropriately. We waited for the siblings to enter the church before we all followed. The only ones who stayed behind were the boys who were going to carry grandma.

We stood at the front of the funeral. Everyone's heads were down. Maybe it was them showing a semblance of respect or maybe they were too afraid to face what was coming. The coffin was pulled by six of my cousins, all wearing suits. The silence was deafening as they entered the church. "Mama's Teaching Angels How to Sing," began playing. It wobbled as they carried her to the front and gently placed her down.

My mother and Aunt Doris sat in the first- row clinging to each other. This year had already seen three funerals of family and friends, this one seemed to hit both at the same time. The soul screeching despair of heartbreak rose from a crescendo of anguish escaping from their mouths had finally released from their gut a bitter-sweet relief of grandma's death.

My uncle Ben had not reacted at all. He sat in complete silence, no facial expression to show. It was like he was made of stone. My Aunt Delana wept quietly.

At the cemetery, surrounded by people who were fake, while she was alive and yes that included her own blood relatives. Some smirked, the pouting of the lips, a narrowing of the eyes and tilting of the head, putting on a show of grief. The insincere expressions of condolences that SCREAMED! "I'm not really sorry, just looking for some juicy gossip to spread around the town." From meddling people who couldn't care less that we were burying someone precious.

The coffin that set precariously on the verge of collapse, seemed crudely built six by two-and-a-half feet sanded down wooden box. The lining made from cushioned silk, probably the most expensive material on it, placed under her head a homemade pillow that would rot with her decaying flesh underground baking until she returned to dust, was slowly lowered into the covered earth. Although the burial was over, I could not remember a single thing that was said. My family would continue this false family grieving time if someone was watching, the minute they were all behind closed doors. The fighting and arguing would begin and everyone would be angry again. Leaving in a huff never to talk to each other again. The one woman who held the family together was gone and so was the family.