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A Shoulder To Lean On
A Shoulder To Lean On
A Shoulder To Lean On
Jeremy shivered as he stood outside the doors of the Holy Cross Funeral Home,
the only warmth around him coming from the cigarette between his lips. From the
moment he had stepped off the airplane last night, he remembered exactly why he had
“Fucking Lansing,” he muttered as the air formed a cloud of fog around his
mouth.
The miserable snow fell with reckless abandon from the grey clouds above him.
Jeremy had worn his ski jacket with the hopes of keeping warm, and yet somehow the
flakes still managed to wiggle their way to his back where they melted.
He didn’t know how his family could stand to stay in such a God-forsaken place.
The cab ride to the hotel had been depressing and short. In fact, Lansing looked even
worse than he remembered. More and more buildings had been abandoned as citizens
fled to find a better life in a bigger city. For those that remained, much more than
buildings had been abandoned; when Jeremy looked into their eyes, he could see that
Jeremy took a drag from his cigarette and watched as a blue Ford Escort pulled
into the driveway and parked in the adjacent lot. A lanky young man stepped out of the
passenger door and walked around the car to help the driver squeeze out of her seat. She
was overweight, much heavier than when Jeremy had last seen her. As the man and
woman walked towards the funeral home, the woman looked as if she was in danger of
Exasperated, she threw her hands in the air. “I don’t know why you do this.
You’re going to the funeral, and you smell terrible. And you’re destroying your lungs.
Jeremy’s jaw tightened. “Mom, from the looks of things here, I don’t think
“You’re unbelievable, Jeremy.” The woman snorted as she waddled toward the
Jeremy looked at his younger brother. Only three years separated the two of
them, yet in the eyes of the family, the two couldn’t be more different. Clean cut and
painfully polite, Nathan was in his senior year at Michigan State and would be graduating
with honors in May. He planned on staying close to the area -- either Detroit or Chicago
– depending, of course, on the job market. It was more than just that though. The family,
many of whom were about to enter retirement, viewed Nathan as a “good man”, someone
who would bring honor to the family name and carry on the values that had been taught
to him.
Fucking terrible, Jeremy thought. I don’t blame you for not going; I wish I hadn’t
gone either. He had wanted to say good-bye to his grandfather, but when he looked
inside the open casket, the man he saw was a stranger. A solemn, serious face had
replaced the joyous smile. Those closed eyes no longer twinkled with mischief. His hair
was perfectly combed rather than strewn and scuffed. In that moment, Jeremy wanted
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nothing more than to reach down and wake his grandfather from his slumber, and yet he
knew that no matter how hard he shook him, this time he would not rise.
None of these things Jeremy wanted to share. He swallowed hard and stared at
the hearse parked twenty feet in front of him. “It was fine.”
Jeremy scrunched his nose, forcing all his freckles to dart towards the center of
his face.
A checkerboard sat between the two of them. It was a confusing game for the boy
to learn, much harder than “Hungry, Hungry Hippos” had been. To make things even
harder, Nathan, who had just had his fourth birthday, was throwing a temper tantrum in
the living room, and his constant screaming was distracting. But nothing, not even an
annoying little brother, was going to shake Jeremy’s determination. Ever since he had
seen his older cousins play against his grandpa, Jeremy had been begging to learn this
His grandma was convinced that checkers was “much too hard for a seven-year-
old-boy,” but his grandpa had persisted. A man of his word, he had made a promise to
Jeremy that if he got a perfect grade on his next spelling test, he would teach the boy to
play. Jeremy had studied hard, spending night after night that week analyzing and
Jeremy slid a red checker forward, creating a triangle with two black checkers.
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“Are you sure you want to move that there?” his grandpa asked.
Jeremy pulled back the checker. “Um, I didn’t mean to make that move. Can I try
again?”
His grandpa smiled and nodded, his eyes dancing below his bushy eyebrows that
“There!” Jeremy exclaimed as he found a new place for the red marker.
“That’s a better move.” His grandpa moved a black checker in front of one of
“Nice game, kid.” Jeremy shook his grandpa’s outstretched hand. “Let’s go get
Jeremy blinked, startled by his brother’s voice. “Um, yeah, I guess so.”
He followed his younger brother inside the glass doors where they were
immediately greeted with a blast of warmth as they stomped the snow off their black
dress shoes. The coat rack was on the far side of the foyer, and much to Jeremy’s
“I’m going to go find Mom,” Nathan said as he left Jeremy to make his way
The ice in Jeremy’s veins started to thaw, and as the blood began to flow, he made
his way across the room trying to avoid eye contact. Still, he couldn’t help but notice
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how diverse the group was that had come to pay their respect. He walked by an elderly
man with a slightly hunched back, who used a cane to support his balance. He passed by
a middle-aged woman who was trying to convince her teenage daughter that she looked
fine and didn’t need to apply any more make-up. As he continued, a young boy and girl
– they must have been no more than five -- almost ran into him, and he had to come to an
abrupt stop to keep from knocking them over. It was a mixed group indeed; and yet, it
was not a surprise. His grandfather’s influence had transcended many generation gaps.
He had driven the same local school bus route for years, and undoubtedly some of his
former students were here. He led a men’s breakfast at his church. And even up to the
Seeing the coat rack, Jeremy began to fumble with the zipper on his jacket, his
“Jeremy Caruthers.”
Jeremy winced at the sound of the deep, gravel voice. It was a voice that he both
knew and hated, a voice that had seemed to criticize every decision he had made in his
Years had passed since Jeremy had last seen his uncle, and it appeared that those
years had not been kind. His uncle’s face was wrinkled and pale, and although he had
continually preached the importance of a clean shave to Jeremy, the scruffy beard lining
his face indicated that he must have had a change of heart. Still, despite all the changes
in appearance, Uncle Ron’s most memorable trait – his piercing eyes – were as terrifying
as ever. They had the ability to cut the skin and heart of any person that didn’t find favor,
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“Nice of you to show up,” Uncle Ron sneered.
Jeremy nodded and hung his jacket upon the coat rack.
His uncle leaned in closely. “Too bad that you weren’t here for your grandfather
last week.”
Jeremy clenched his jaw and walked toward the chapel. “As always, Uncle Ron,
His uncle shook his head. “Always walking away, Jeremy. Always alone. Such
a waste.”
The lingering aroma of pot and alcohol clung to Jeremy as he stumbled toward the
front door of his grandpa’s house. Each sloppy step he made caused his balance to shift
This wasn’t the first time Jeremy had found himself on the ground at this place,
and it wasn’t without a sense of guilt. His grandfather was always disappointed to see his
grandson in such an inebriated state. But there were times when it was the only place he
could take shelter. His mother had forbid him to ever come home in such a state as he
Jeremy grasped the front door handle, and tried to pull himself up to his feet. His
legs felt like foam, and every time he tried to rise, they proved to be powerless against
Defeated, he leaned his head against the door and closed his eyes. The last few
years had been difficult. His father had died two years earlier, during Jeremy’s eighth
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grade year, and he had never fully recovered from the aftermath. His grades had slipped,
much to the dismay of his family who had seemed to effortlessly move on with life.
The porch was illuminated as the door opened, causing Jeremy to fall inside.
The elderly man stood in the doorway, dressed in white pajamas and slippers, and
Jeremy rolled to his knees and wrapped his arms around his grandpa who had
knelt beside him. Slowly, the two of them rose together and walked inside the house.
Jeremy leaned heavily on the shoulders of his grandpa, and as they walked down the hall
toward the guest room in silence, several times the weight almost caused his grandpa to
collapse.
The walk had been hard for Jeremy as well. His initial collapse on the porch had
sent shockwaves to his stomach, and as he moved down the hallway, a queasy feeling
His grandpa looked around frantically, trying to find some place - or some thing -
By the time he got back, carrying two old salad bowls, it was too late. Jeremy
was hunched over on the floor, heaving. His grandpa held the bowl out for him, catching
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“You climb on into bed. I’ll clean this up.” He sighed. “And I’ll leave this bowl
“We’ll talk about this in the morning,” his grandpa said as he left the room. And
Jeremy knew that they would. It would not be a fun conversation. But for now he was
Sitting alone in the back pew of the chapel, Jeremy hoped to avoid the
sympathetic stares and sentiments so often blanketed upon the first few rows of the
deceased’s family.
A slideshow of his grandpa’s life played as those who had come filed into the
chapel. There were pictures of him as a child, grinning beside his five sisters and two
brothers. There were pictures of him playing high school football, graduating college,
and getting married to Jeremy’s grandmother. There were pictures of him holding his
first-born child -- Jeremy’s aunt -- and pictures from many family vacations. There were
pictures of him with his grandchildren, pictures of his retirement party, and pictures of
him volunteering. Picture upon picture played, each serving as vivid proof of a well-
lived life.
As the service continued, his three aunts recalled the love and protection that their
father had always offered them. His cousin, Caitlyn, shared that her grandpa had
patiently taught her to drive when she got her learner’s license, as he had all of his
grandchildren. And the reverend spoke about his grandpa’s strong faith and giving heart.
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These were all things that Jeremy knew, that Jeremy had experienced. His heart ached
The gravesite was at the far end of the property, and with the chill of winter, many
of the mourners opted to drive. The hearse was the first to arrive, followed closely by
two limousines that carried the family and the pallbearers. Nathan was the first to step
out of the pallbearer’s car, followed by five cousins, and together they made their way to
the back of the hearse, where they waited for the mourners to gather.
With heads bowed, the six men carried the casket to the grave and after laying it
upon the belt, took their place with the rest of the family.
“Dearly beloved,” the reverend smiled kindly as he stepped forward, “we gather
here to lay to rest Henry Caruthers, our beloved brother, father, grandfather and friend.
Jeremy glanced at the dozens of people surrounding the grave. Many were
wiping tears from their eyes and squeezing the shoulders of a loved one beside them.
Others stood emotionless, shell-shocked by the reality of what was before them. But it
was the sad smiles worn by still others, such as his Mom, that infuriated him the most.
Do you not understand that he is dead? Jeremy quickly glanced away, unable to watch
The pastor continued reading: “…even when I walk through the dark valley of
death, I will not be afraid, for you are close beside me.”
It was the same passage of Scripture that had been read at his grandma’s funeral.
Jeremy recalled standing beside his grandpa back then, holding and comforting him.
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“…and I will live in the house of the Lord forever.” The pastor looked up from
Jeremy bowed his head and stared at the casket on the ground in front of him. As
the prayer ended, one by one the crowd began to disperse, laying flowers on the casket as
they left. It was a bizarre sentiment, Jeremy thought, since his grandpa had suffered from
allergies and would often sneeze whenever around strong aromas. And yet, it was
strangely fitting. Those flowers would soon freeze and wilt away. It was yet another
reminder that in the end even the most beautiful of creation had to die.
It had been a running joke between Jeremy and his grandpa. Every week Jeremy
would end their phone call by telling his grandpa that he should “fly out and see San
Francisco.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” the old man would chuckle.
They both knew that money was tight. An increase in medical costs and a local
economic crisis had caused Jeremy’s grandpa many financial headaches and much stress.
This, of course, only added to the surprise when one week their phone conversation
A month before he died, Jeremy’s grandpa visited San Francisco for the first time.
When Jeremy greeted his grandpa at the airport, he couldn’t help but notice that since he
last saw him there were a few more wrinkles on his face, and a little more gray in his
hair. But that smile and those eyes – they were as welcoming as they ever had been.
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“Jeremy!”
Jeremy shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.” His grandpa felt
The week went by quickly. Jeremy had embraced the role of tour guide, showing
his grandpa all the best the city had to offer – the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz, the cable
cars, Lombard Street. They had taken in a ‘49ers game and had even made the trip out to
see the majestic Redwoods. But Jeremy had saved the best for the last; his grandpa had
to leave later that evening and he wanted the joy of Fisherman’s Wharf to linger in his
mind.
“How about some real seafood?” Jeremy had teased. “I promise you, there’s
As Jeremy and his grandpa walked along the pier, the orchestra of crashing
waves, barking sea lions, and squawking sea gulls crescendoed in the air.
Jeremy’s grandpa shook his head. “This really is great city you live in, Jeremy.”
The two men reached the restaurant and found a table on the patio overlooking the
ocean. Jeremy watched his grandpa stare in wonder at the magnificent view and smiled.
“I think I’m going to start college next fall,” Jeremy confided after several
minutes of silence.
The old man raised his eyebrows. “That’s good.” He paused. “And its you that
wants to go to school?”
“Good for you, Jeremy,” his grandpa grinned. “I’m proud of you.”
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The two of them spent the rest of the afternoon talking over the best shrimp his
grandpa had ever tasted. Jeremy got the update on how the family was doing, and the
two argued over which team had the best shot at the Super Bowl. The afternoon went by
quickly – much too quickly – and it seemed to Jeremy that his grandpa was departing
At the terminal entrance Jeremy hugged his grandpa and watched as he left.
As he stood in front of his grandfather’s grave, all Jeremy had now were the
memories. Memories not just of his grandfather, but also his family. His grandpa had
served as a bridge between them; now there was a gap six feet deep.
The sun had begun to set and the wind had picked up, biting Jeremy’s skin with
its cold piercing teeth. The crowd of people had left the gravesite long ago, choosing
instead to mingle over refreshments in the warmth of the funeral home. But despite the
bitter chill, Jeremy’s feet were like ice, clinging to the frozen ground in front of the
grave.
Jeremy’s eyes welled until a single tear escaped and trickled down his face into
the grave.
His Uncle Ron was right. He was alone, now more than ever. But could no one
see that he didn’t want to be alone? Could no one see that he was a different man than
the one who had left years ago? Beneath his hard exterior, his heart cried out to feel a
connection.
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“Jeremy, are you alright?” The howling wind had masked the sound of Nathan
Jeremy turned to face his brother, tears streaming down his face. “He’s gone,
“I should have never invited him to San Francisco…,” Jeremy sobbed. “…The
Nathan wrapped his arms around his older brother, Jeremy’s body shaking in his
embrace.
“Jeremy, it’s not your fault,” Nathan reassured him. “He loved the week he spent
with you.”
“…And last week he told me not to come, but I should have come… I didn’t
Nathan hadn’t seen Jeremy cry since they were boys, and the sorrow his brother
Completely exhausted, Jeremy gasped for air, his face flushed and wet. As he
searched his younger brother’s face, he noticed something there that he had never seen
before – the same tender look that his grandfather had so often bestowed on him. A look
Jeremy rubbed his eyes, and reached into his jacket pocket to wipe off the tears.
As he ran his hand along the inside liner, it brushed against a two small, wooden objects.
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Lost in the day’s emotion, Jeremy had completely forgotten about the offering he had
brought, an offering that had traveled with him from San Francisco to Lansing. He
grasped the wooden pieces in his hand, and ran his finger across their smooth surface.
“Here,” Jeremy said as he held his hand towards Nathan. In his palm were two
checkers from the last game Jeremy and his grandfather had played at Fisherman’s
Wharf.
“It’s more appropriate than the flowers,” Jeremy said in a choked whisper.
Respectfully, the two brothers lay the checkers on the casket. And then together,
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