Funeral Flowers

by Shelly Stone
shellylynn23@gmail.com

Rosesormagnolias?Iask,holdinguptwohats.Henriettarollshereyesandturns
herbacktome.
Imtakingoneofyourcards,shesays.Sheopensthetopdrawerofmydeskand
takesacondolencecardfrommystack.
RosesormagnoliasIquestionagain.
Clarice,please,weregoingtobelate.
Wearenotgoingtobelate,Isay,choosingthepinkhatwiththeIrishlaceand
largetangerineyellowroses.Iplaceitonmyfreshlycurledhairandchecktheclock.The
serviceisattenthirty.
Henriettasignsthecardquickly,thenpicksupapairofblacksatinglovesoffthe
desk.Shedrapesthemgracefullyacrossheropenpalmsandwalkstothemirror,
extendingherarmstome.Itaketheglovesandputthemon,carefulnottopulltoohardon
theantiquefabric,thenholdmyrightarmout.Henwrapsmywatchwiththetinypearls
aroundmywrist,claspsit,andcheckstheface.
Actually,Terrysmassisatten,shesays.Itstimetogo.
Henhasbeenmyfriendsincewearinghatswasfashionableandlongbeforemy
hairturnedgray.Itdoesn'tbothermethatshethinksIameccentric.Myhatsaresomeofmy
mostbelovedpossessionsandIamproudoftheskillithastakentoacquirethecollection.
Theyaremadeofhighqualitymaterialslikebrocadedsilk,curledostrichplumes,burnout
velvet,andflowers,alwaysflowers.Onehat,adelicatesatinpillboxwithperfectgeometric
netting,isevenanheirloom,havingoncebeenwornbymyownmotheratthefuneralofmy
dealoldpops.
Ihavefondmemoriesofmymothersoutfitthatday.Thehatwithtinyrosebudssat
ontopofherheadlikeacrownwhileherlong,blackdresscascadedtothefloor.Istood
besidetheflowingfoldsoffabric,enjoyingtheattentionofstrangers.Mysisterclaspeda
moisthandkerchiefandauntswithsympatheticsmilesshookmyhand.Iwasmourning.I
wasten.AndIfeltstrangelyimportant.
ComeonClarice.Icantbelate,Hensays.Shestandsbythedoor,holdingher
leatherpursewithtwohandsbeneathherbreasts,closertoherwaistthanshewouldlike.
Hendoesnotlikebeingold.ShestillputsOilofOlayonherfacetwiceadaytoprevent
wrinkles.Imaginethat!Seventytwoandtryingtopreventwrinkles.Giveitup,Ioncetold
her.Embraceyourageandhonoryourwisdom.Throwapartyandburnthehousedown
withacandleladencake.Henremindedmethatshedoesntbakeandcanteatcake
becauseshesdiabetic.Sheisalwaysputtingoutmyfire.
Areyouready?sheasks.
Ofcourse.DontIlookready?
Youlooklikeyou'regoingtoanEasterParadewiththatfoolishthing.Shepointsto
myhat.
IchoseitjustforyouHen,Isay,accentuatingmyH.
Sheinhaleswithaspurtthroughhernoseandpushesherbosomout.Shedoesnot
likethatparticularpronunciation.Icanthelpbutthinkshelooksappropriatelylikea
chicken.Idonot,ofcourse,saythis.
Letsgo,shesays.IneedtositupfrontsoFatherMathesoncanseeme.
Thisfuneralisimportanttoher.Attendancecountstowardsherstatusatchurch.A
fewmorefuneralsandshemightbeabletomoveupastepinthepeckingorderand
perhapsgettoworkontheFinanceCommitteeinsteadoftheBakeSaleCommittee.
Outside,thewindblowsandmakesthetulipsandcallaliliesinmygardendance.
Therearenorosesyet,butitstilllookslovely.Ibendtoadmiretheblooms,toucha
powderypetalwithmysatinfingerandinhalethescent.Ihavealreadysentflowersahead
tothechurch.Notfreshflowersfrommygarden,butatastefularrangementfromthelocal
floristshop.IpromptlyorderedthebouquetassoonasHencalledtotellmeofthedeath.
SheisquickonthedrawwithsuchnewsduetoherbeingonthecasseroleCommittee.
Sendingflowersinoneofthoseacts,alongwithsigningthecardanddonningahat,that
signifiesmyroutinegrief.
Henbeepsherhorn,twice,inshortimpatientpecks.Istandandheadtowardsthe
Centurywagon,apracticalseniorcitizensar.Iopenthedoorandlookatthepassenger
seat.Thecardsitsnexttoashinymetalobjectinmyspot.Iclearmythroat.
Henreachesoverwithbothhandsandmovesthepantothemiddle
Moveittotheback,Iinsist.Icantfitmytushnthere.
GetinClarice,shesays,tippingthelargeskilletuponitsside.Youcanfit.
Ienterandscowlwithdisapproval.IonotlikecarsandIespeciallydonotliketobe
uncomfortableincars.InudgetheheavypanwithmyelbowsoitrestsagainstHen.
ShouldIask?
Itsforthekitchen,shesays.TheFreeMealProgramisonTuesdaysandIhadto
buyalargeenoughpanforadozenchickenlegs.
Youmakefriedchickenforthehomeless?
Notme,theMealsCommittee.ButIhadtopickuphoseanywayandtheyneeded
one.IfiguredIdbringitalongtodayandsavemyselfatrip.
Henpullsoutherseatbeltandstrapsitacrossherchest.Sheisproppedonapillow
foraddedheightandgraspsthewheelwithtightfistedhands.Enoughofthechatter.Lets
berespectful.
ItisonlyashortdrivetothesmallchurchinWilmington.Ihavebeentherebeforeand
amsureIwillgothereagain.Itisanice,quaintchurch.
Ihaveasincereaffectionforchurches,thoughIamnotareligiouswomananddo
notsitoncommitteeslikeHen.IpraywhenprayersareneededandIbelievethereisa
God.ButIwasnotgrowninachurchandSundayattendanceisnotpartofmylife.My
condolencecards,whichIbuyinbulkatHallmark,donothavecrossesandIdonotget
downonmykneesinfrontofthecoffinatthewake.Still,Ihaveattendedenoughfuneralsto
learntheApostles'Creed,theorderofserviceandtheproperthingtosaywhenthepeace
ispasses.OnlyoncedidIhavetoaskHenforthewordsto"OnEagle'sWings".The
religionofitallisnotwhatdrivesmetoattend.
"MayIturnontheradio?"Iask,unsureifshewantstocontinuewithrespectful
silence.
"Onlyifit'spublic,"Hensays,"andnotifthey'retalkingaboutpoliticsorviolence.
Andnojazz,onlyclassical,orthatmanwiththesoothingvoicethattellsthequirkystories."
Idecidenottobotherandfiddlewiththebandofmywatch,makingsurethelinksdo
notsnagthesmoothfabricofmyglove.
"Youcanrollyourwindowdown,"Hensuggests.
"NoIcan't."
"Yes,youcan,"shesays."Thebuttonisonyoursidebythehandle."
"IknowHen.Imeantmyhat.Idon'twantittoblowaway."
"Oh,ofcourse,thehat,"shesayssarcastically."Didyoubringtissues?"
"Yes."Ialwaysdo.ThoughIdonotexpecttodoalotofcryingtoday.Thatusually
onlyhappenswhenarelativedies.
AndHen,myfondfriend,Iwillcrywhenshegoes.ThoughIdoplanonsneakingone
ofmyhatsontoherheadinthecoffin.Whichintheafterlife,ifthereisone,shewillnagme
aboutforeternity.Butitwillbeworthitonthatdaytolookdownatherandseeherfrozen
smileassheliesstillwithgaudypink,plasticcarnationsIthinkrestingonherhead.
"Whatareyousmilingabout?"Henasks,lookingatme.
"Nothing,"Isay.Shestaresatmeinasquintyway,asifsheweretryingtoreadmy
mind.Iamabouttoaskaboutherarthritisifonlytochangethesubjectwhenweare
interruptedbyathump.
Henturnsbacktofacetheroadandthecarswervesright.Sheliftsherpencil
eyebrowsandpullsthecarover.Welookoutthebackwindow.
"Ohno,"shesays.
"Goodness."
Sheturnstheignitionoffandunbucklesherbreasts.Iadjustmyhatandfollowher
outside.
Wemeetinthemiddleofthequietstreetandstandinourdarkheelsoverwhatwill
bethecauseofourfuneraltardiness.
"JesusChrist,"Isay.
"Clarice,please,"Henriettarequests."Can'tyousayJiminyCricketorsomething?
We'reonthewaytochurch."
"JiminyCricket?Thereisnothingexclamatoryaboutatalkinggreenbug."
Shesigns."Wellthen,JCorsomething."
Iconcede.
"JCHenrietta,youkilledacat."
"Ohdearme."
"Whathappened?Diditrunoutinfrontofyou?"Iask.
"Idon'tknow,"shesays,turningtoglareatme."Iwastoobusylookingatyouwith
thatridiculousoutfitandgoofysmile.Ididn'tseehim."Sheturnsbacktothecat."Whatdo
wedo?"
"Driveon."
"Clarice,wecan'tleavehimhere.He'sdead."
Ilookattheflattenedanimalonthestreet,poppedlikearipetomato.Thereis
probablybloodyfuronthetires,thoughIdonotinspect.
"It'sacatHen.It'lldecompose."
"OhClarice,don'tsaythat!"
"Well,whatdoyouwanttodo?Wecan'tbelate."
Shenodsinagreement."Butwecan'tleavehimhere,"shesays."Theprocessionto
thecemeterycomesthisway.Icouldn'tstandknowingthatallthosecardswouldbedriving
pastmyaccident."Sheremovesatissuefromherpurseandblowsintoitlikeanoldlady
should."Wehavetomovehim."
"Iamnottouchingthatthing,"Isay.Idon'teventakethegibletsoutofturkey.
Henriettastandsoverthedeadanimal,claspingherhandsandbowingherhead.I
knowsheisprayingandIwanttoaskifthereisasaintfordeadcats,butIresist.Thereare
someteaseablemomentsyoujusthavetoletpass.
Sheopenshereyesandinadeadpanvoicesays,"Gettheskillet."
IobeyandshestandswatchoverthelifelessanimaluntilIreturnwiththepan.Ihand
ittoher.WhenshehastakenitIremovemysatingloves,laythemacrossmyhands,and
offerthemout.
Sheplacesthepanonthegroundandacceptsthegloves.Sheputsthemon,picks
upthepanandwalkstothecatwhereshehunchesoverinhersupporthoseandscoops
thedeadanimalintothelargechickenfryer.Sheholdsthepan'sneckwithtwohandsand
outstretchedarmsasshewalkstothesideoftheroadanddepositstheanimalbehinda
bush.Thenshereturnstothestreetanddragsthepanonthetar,scrapingtheremainsand
afewloosepebblesoffthepavement.Whenshehasfinishedshecarefullyplacesthepan
behindthebushwiththecarcass,tugsatherfingerstoremovemyglovesanddropsthem
ontheground.
"You'regoingtoleavethepan?"Iaskwhenshereturnstome.Theroadisclean.
Shehasdoneagoodjob.
"Ican'tbringittochurchnow.IcouldnevershowmyfacetotheMealsCommittee.
It'sbadenoughI'llhavetolieandpretendIhadalapseinmemory.Icanjusthearthe
rumorsofAlzheimer's."
Iunderstandthiswillpainheralmostasmuchasbringingadirtypantochurchwould
andIdropthesubject.
Ienterthecarandsitinmynowroomyseat.IreachovertofluffHen'spillowbefore
shegetsin.Sheentersandtakesadeepbreath,thenturnstome.
"Youreallydolooknicetoday."
"Thankyou,"Isay.
HenstartstheengineandwepullawayfromthestreetandheadforWilmington.
"Don'tforgettosignthecard."
Itaketheenvelopeshehasleftontheseatandremovethecard.
"Doyouknowhowtospellhisname?"Henasks.
"Hisname?IthoughtTerrywasawoman!"
"Terry,asinTerrance.Ithoughtyouknewhim."
"No.WhenyousaidTerryWoodwardtheorganistdied,Ithoughtyoumeantthat
sweetladywhoplayedatMabel'sfuneral."
"No,thatwasShirley.IthinkTerryplayedatJeremiah'slastyear.Ididn'treallyknow
him.Ithoughtyouknewhimfromtown."
"Hmmm."Ipauseandcontemplatemysignature,holdingthepeninmyungloved
hand."Doyoustillwanttogo?"
Henstopsthecaratanintersectionandturnstome."Wemightaswell.Wewent
throughallthattrouble."
Inodandsignwithmyusualflourish.
Shelooksbothways,thenstepsonthegas."Andyoudohavethathat."