Providence Ch. 06

Isaac looked at his phone, wondering when it would be too soon to send Mari a message. Somehow, "I'm sorry for your loss" just didn't feel enough for what happened.

That's because it wasn't just a loss, he reasoned, that was a damn apocalypse.

He supposed he should send something, even if it's just for moral support. So he did, not expecting a response. When he heard his phone ding and her name popped up, he was surprised.

"Thanks, Isaac. I appreciate it." That's it.

He smiled, despite himself and despite the situation. He looked at the calendar -- Friday. It had been six days since the accident, and he wondered how Mari was doing.

I'll find out tomorrow, I guess, he thought. He hated funerals.

Saturday morning came, and he woke up at ten. He headed to his bathroom to get dressed and get ready. He decided on navy dress pants, a dark blue button-down shirt, and a dark grey sweater on top.

Can't forget the tie, he thought, reaching for a navy and gold one.

His brown brogues completed the outfit. There.

This is as good as it's gonna get, old man, he thought, looking at his reflection.

He saw the years of stress under his eyes, his dark brown hair slowly turning silver. He saw how lean he had gotten, the pounds of marriage weight lost from his frame.

That's how you could tell you're happily married, right? When you put on weight? He mused. Well, they're probably right. I'm skinny and I'm not happy, either.

He surveyed himself again, thinking that he was not equipped to be alone like this.

I need a woman to love me, God, he prayed. You know that that's what my heart needs. You know it, Lord, and I trust you even when I can't even feel my way around this. I have to trust you, God, 'cause I can't trust myself to not be selfish, he finished.

He turned around and made his way down to the garage, hopped in his sedan, and drove to the church.

When he arrived, he was surprised to find the back parking lot full. It made sense for the front one to fill up, but he'd never seen this much cars in the back for a funeral before.

Wow, really tells you something about the people we're burying today, he thought.

He stepped out and headed inside, battling the uneasiness that usually accompanied funerals. An usher handed him a program and he glanced at it, seeing a picture of Kenzo and the kids on the front. That hurt him, seeing those kids and being good friends with Kenzo, now gone. He thought about his own, wondering how he would ever survive it if his ever got taken away from him by something so senseless as a drunk driver.

He felt his face flush and his heart race, tell-tale signs that anger was starting to bubble up inside him. He swallowed it down and resolved to walk inside the sanctuary, where a long line of people already snaked up and down the aisles. The three closed caskets up front caught his eye, one large and two small ones. He felt his heart sink as the reality of these deaths sunk in.

He stood in that place for a while, then found space in a pew where he could lay his coat. Afterwards, he joined the line.

He couldn't see Mari, but he could hear crying. He'd never seen or heard her cry, but somehow he knew that wasn't her. He nodded to people he recognized, and they nodded back. It felt disingenuous to smile and ask people how they were doing at a funeral, so he just stay put.

As he got closer to the front, he saw Kenzo's mom, grandmother, brothers, and the rest of his family first. They were all solemn, dressed in varying shades of black and white. They'd all been crying and doing their best to receive guests. He offered his condolences and gave Kenzo's mom a hug.

Then, he saw her.

Mari was being clutched tightly by a woman from church, and Mari was the one patting her on the back, comforting her. The woman was full on sobbing on Mari, and she had to be escorted by some ushers to sit down as it looked like she hadn't been able to compose herself enough to walk away.

Mari stood, glassy-eyed and stoic and accepted people's condolences, their handshakes, their hugs.

All the while, she hadn't cried, he noticed.

He saw her -- head held high, her face partially covered by a black fascinator, wearing a long black dress that, although modest and appropriate, complimented her frame. When she turned to receive a hug, he saw that there was a cape built into the back of the dress. She wore pearl earrings and she'd opted to wear black stockings and black pumps, which caused her to flex her calf muscles when she walked.

She's the picture of elegance, he thought. I don't think I've ever seen a widow who looked like that.

Soon enough, it was his turn to see her, and she blinked when she saw him. He saw her eyes wake up, if that was even the right phrase to describe it, and he felt as if she just woke up from a long trance.

He took her hand in his and covered it with his other hand, not realizing he'd been holding his breath the whole time. She looked down at his gesture, then up at him, and he knew she was waiting for him to say something.

"Mari, I... I'm not sure what to say. I, I uh, I'm sorry for your loss. For all of this, for everything that's happened. Kenzo was my friend, and I loved him. I loved the kids, too. I'm gonna miss them," he said.

He surprised himself when he felt the tears threatening to break through. To her credit, she listened without interrupting and waited for him as he struggled to get through his sentence.

"All that to say, I'm here if you need someone to listen," he finished.

She looked at him and he felt as if she were staring right into his innermost. "Thank you for coming, Isaac," she said, then gently took her hand away.

Her words almost had a robotic quality to it, and he realized she'd been tempering her emotions for the funeral. To everyone else looking, she'd accepted his condolences the exact same way she'd accepted everybody else's. What they couldn't see from afar was a tiny, imperceptible spark that came alive behind her eyes as Isaac took her hand. He almost missed it too, since nothing else about her visage gave anything away.

He didn't think her lifeless eyes boring into him affected him until he walked away and sat down. Then he observed her receiving the last of the visitors, noticing that she'd not reacted or looked at anyone else like she did with him.

Then the family filed out of the sanctuary as the ushers told everyone that the service was starting shortly. The congregation stood as the organist started playing, then the door opened and in walked Kenzo's mom first, followed by his grandmother, then the rest of the family.

Mari entered last, walking a little bit behind everybody else. Isaac noted that her shoulders had slumped a bit more, but her head was still held high in stark contrast to the rest of the family. She took a seat on the front pew, and at the usher's signal, everyone did the same.

Pastor Aaron walked up to the pulpit and made eye contact with the family on the front pew.

"Good afternoon everybody. It seems a strange thing for me to thank you all, on behalf of the family, for coming to a funeral. It's the last thing anyone wants to do; that is, we are not prone to enjoy attending a visceral reminder of death. As it is, this is one of the duties that us, as pastors, must perform, and we carry it out with a solemnity and a grave honor.

This past week, our church family has been rocked with the news of Kenzo, Lucas, and Elise Foster's deaths. We grieve the circumstances of the accident, but even more we grieve the loss of our beloved brother and his children.

But those who are here today who have placed their hope in Christ do not mourn hopelessly. Those who have called upon the name of their Savior know that this is the final enemy, ultimately defeated. But as we still occupy this world and this body, marred from head to toe in sin and decay, the longing and the love we have lost will sometimes still overwhelm us," said Aaron.

He took a few minutes to compose himself. Clearing his throat, he looked at Kenzo's grandmother. "Catherine, you and I have been dear friends since I could remember. You've regaled us with many stories about your family, not the least your grandchildren.

I remember the pride and the love that you infused in those stories, and I could tell you loved Kenzo fiercely and prayed for him constantly. One day, you told me that he'd met a wonderful woman to court, and you prayed God would bless it. He has, Catherine, and He's blessed it abundantly."

Then Aaron turned to Mari. "Mari, you are so loved..." He trailed off and fought to keep his composure.

"Mari, you were loved so much, that was plain for everybody to see. Kenzo adored you, and your children treasured you. We remember praying with you for God to open your womb, and we rejoiced with you when those children were born. We cry with you as you lay them to rest now, and we will be there with you to weather the storms, bask in the sunshine, and everything in between. We have an obligation to care for the widows and the orphans, as James says, 'this is pure religion, undefiled,' and we take that charge seriously.

You are not alone. You will never be alone. You'll feel lonely, yes, but remember that you have friends here and an advocate in Heaven, interceding for you. Turn your eyes heavenward, and there you will find comfort and peace beyond understanding." Aaron said a few more words in exhortation, then stepped off.

The organist played a haunting, simple tune, and Isaac thought he saw Mari shudder. The moment passed.

Six men stood up, hefting the large coffin on their shoulders and walked down the aisle. Four more, hefting the first smaller coffin on their shoulders and followed suit. Then at last four more, hefting the last coffin down the aisle. The family stood and followed, along with the rest of the congregation.

--

Mari woke up to a cacophony of sounds from her phone.

"What day is it," she mumbled, before turning over to check the time.

8:37 am. "Great," she muttered.

She hadn't checked her phone since she got back from the hospital, which felt a lifetime ago. It was Saturday, she noted, seven days.

Seven days have passed since my whole life fell apart. She buried her head in her hands and groaned.

Her head pounded and her stomach growled, and for the past week she'd had no appetite but some bland crackers, black coffee, and the occasional Tylenol. Once, when someone left a casserole on her porch, she'd taken a bite and immediately spit it out. Afterwards, people dropping off food saw unopened casserole dishes and containers knocked on her door, but she ignored them all.

She'd earned a welfare visit from Ben and his wife Natalie for that one. That was Thursday.

She'd stumbled to the door from a fitful nap and yanked it open, annoyed at whoever woke her up. Natalie stepped back, surprised at Mari's appearance. They were good friends and Natalie knew Mari would never be caught dead answering the door in her housecoat.

But here she is, Natalie thought, looking like death warmed over. Her heart went out to her friend, and she knew she'd sooner crawl into her own grave than bother to even wash her face.

"Hey guys, what is it?" greeted Mari, rubbing her eyes.

"Mar, hi. Let's get you decent. Come on," said Natalie, by way of greeting.

Ben and Natalie stepped inside the kitchen and didn't see any sign that Mari had fended for herself, save for the pile of blankets and pillows on the couch.

"Mar, you do know there's a growing pile of casseroles on your porch, right? You'd be fighting off cats and raccoons if you don't start working on those," Natalie chuckled.

That only earned a grunt. "Ben, would you clean out those casserole pans? I'll get her dressed," as she pushed Mari into the bedroom.

No one had slept in that bed, she noticed.

Mari sat on the bed, still rubbing her eyes as she heard the shower come on. Natalie placed a change of clothes next to her and shooed her into the shower, telling her "You better stay in there for at least twenty minutes! We'll be out here!"

Mari stepped into the shower, almost forgetting how nice the warm water felt. She'd been keeping up with the utilities but realized she probably did need to sober up to handle Kenzo's and the kids' final affairs, namely the life insurance.

She lathered up and wondered how numb her skin felt. Finally, she came out, dried off and got dressed. She walked out to the kitchen to find Ben and Natalie sitting down, a cup of fresh coffee in front of them. "Here," said Natalie, handing her the cup. "Come sit and join us."

"Hey Mar," said Ben.

Mari nodded at both of them. "Mar, we're just stopping by to check on you. How are you holding up?"

She shrugged and raised her cup. "Still alive, I guess."

Ben and Natalie exchanged a look. "Mar, listen. You don't have to answer any texts or calls if you don't want to. I know they can get annoying, but we just want to make sure you're still with us, ok?" said Natalie, placing a hand on Mari's shoulder.

She flinched at the touch. "Nat, I'm here. Not going anywhere. I'm fine."

Natalie looked at her husband and Ben nodded. "OK Mar, we'll go and let you do what you need to do. Do you need any help for Saturday?"

Mari just looked at her blankly before she realized what Saturday meant. "N-no, I'm good. Thanks, Nat. Thanks, Ben."

With that, the couple rose with hesitation and said goodbye.

Mari locked the door behind them and groaned. She needed a pot of coffee to handle the day today.

It's admin day, Mar. Get it together, she berated herself.

For the rest of the day, she was on the phone with various people, explaining the situation and getting resolution.

At four o' clock, she closed her laptop and sighed. For a moment there, she was in full secretary mode. Handling those affairs felt like business and she felt disconnected from the emotional reality of it. She realized she hadn't once felt the grief that usually rested on her shoulders, and she surmised it was probably because it was all business, like she used to do at the office.

She finally got around to checking her notifications.

How the hell am I supposed to read and get back to like, a thousand fucking messages? She thought. Eh, forget it. I'll read it and leave it alone.

She closed her messages and tapped on her Facebook account. She'd revived it on Tuesday to post a status about Kenzo and the kids. She knew there would be people who would want to attend the funeral, and swallowing her selfish desire to keep people out, posted an update.

As expected, her notifications and her inbox were overflowing. She skimmed through them and ignored the questions asking for specifics of the accident. She was only vaguely aware of the arrest of the drunk driver. She knew he was in jail right now, but thought she'd probably better check in with Don and George who were handling the lawyers about the court date and the plea deal.

Her messenger app rang and her dad's name popped up. Sighing, she answered. She was expecting to be on the phone with him for hours, but it only lasted thirty minutes. She could tell he'd been crying but to his credit, kept it at bay for her. She walked him through the final affairs and the funeral, telling him it was better for him to stay at home for the time being. He'd gone home to spend the winter in their home country and wanted to buy a return ticket as soon as he heard the news, but Mari couldn't handle another human being around her right now, especially not her dad.

She told him as much and assured him she would be alright. He relented and canceled his return flight, preferring to stay in-country to grieve there. He called to ask how she was, and she faked her voice and her face, silently grateful to Nat for making her take a shower.

Before she knew it, it was dinner time. She opened the fridge and saw someone had stocked it with snacks.

Add that to the list of people to thank, she thought.

Then she felt a hot burst of anger inside, fueled by the annoyance of just too many people around her. She felt like they were all breathing down her neck, fawning over her and this and that.

"DAMMIT!" she yelled.

She gave up finding something to eat and turned off the kitchen lights. Sleep will help, she thought.

She brushed her teeth and collapsed on to the couch, settling into a fitful sleep.

Morning came too soon. She cursed as she shot up, remembering that she hadn't even set an alarm. 8:06.

Good, she sighed.

Mari got up and made a cup of coffee, gulping it down before she realized she'd forgotten to add sugar to it. She grimaced, then rinsed out the cup. She knew what she had to do today, so she walked into her bathroom to get ready. There was a faint idea of how the service was going to go, but if she were honest, she'd tuned Aaron and the other pastors out when they planned it with her.

She took a shower, staying under the hottest water setting as long as she could stand. Then she got out, rinsed off, and took a look at herself in the mirror. She wasn't completely surprised by her reflection, but she could hardly recognize the person staring back at her.

Her eyes had dark bags underneath, her skin had a sallow tint to it, and her hair hung limp. Her gaze trailed further down, seeing her breasts sag from nursing her babies. That memory stung her eyes. Further down, she touched her belly, still holding on to that stubborn baby fat.

She'd been driven to annoyance by it and it had been one of her biggest insecurities, but now she ached to have her babies inside her again, where they'd been the safest.

A tear rolled down her cheek before she swiped it away. You're gonna have to keep it together, today, Mari, she told herself.

Do whatever you need to do now to get ready. Keep it all in today. Then when you get home, let it all out. I mean it, Mari. Let it all fucking out when you get home. She drew a breath, straightened her shoulders, and started to put on her makeup.

After a half hour of fussing with her appearance, she thought, "This is as good as they're gonna get, Mari."

She slipped on her pumps and gathered her essentials in a clutch. She had to make a conscious effort to remember where she put her dad's keys as she was driving his car now.

Shit, she thought. I gotta find another car. Guess I gotta visit the bank on Monday.

She took a few minutes to let her dad's car warm up, then she drove to the church. On the way, she ran through the day in her mind: viewing, service, burial, lunch. Ok, Mari, make it through. I'll give you an out -- make it through the burial. Then if you can't take it anymore, skip the fucking lunch and go home.

She pulled into the parking lot and was surprised at how full it was. She squared her shoulders and went inside. Once in, she spotted her mother-in-law and the rest of the family. She went over and gave each of them a hug while stopping herself from crying.

Her mother-in-law asked, "Are you alright?"

She nodded. No one else talked. There was nothing that needed to be said, and for once, Mari was grateful they all knew that.

The church doors opened and the pallbearers came in with the ushers. Don, Kevin, Blake, Daniel, and Kenzo's two brothers were carrying Kenzo. Arthur, Grayson, Charlie, and Ben were carrying Lucas. Cliff, Eric, Preston, and Brandon were carrying Elise. The pallbearers exchanged condolences to the family, and by the time they were done, Mari was well-versed in receiving them.

Then the viewing started. All these crying faces, she thought.

The amount of visitors and hugs she'd received all blended together. Friends from college, Kenzo's friends from high school, Lucas' school friends, her hairdresser, her dad's friends, everybody. She'd received them all graciously, stoically, affecting emotion where appropriate, but otherwise, she couldn't tell you the previous person from the next.