Weepin’ Willa: A {true} Short Story (Conclusion)

We carefully skated along the icy backroads of Indianola until we arrived at St. James Baptist Church.  Our family never officially joined this church, but that didn’t stop us from coming to service every third and fifth Sunday.  Mama joined the choir and participated in all things St. James.  The parking lot was not as full of cars as I thought it would be, but there were people everywhere!  A few church members volunteered to make trips to town to pick up anyone who was afraid to drive on the ice.  This was, after all, the Delta.  A once-in-a-blue-moon snow flurry was something feared in these parts.  Everything shut down.  Only a few brave souls dared to drive on the ice.

Yeah, she would have wanted to come here to let us say our goodbyes.

A weight had been strapped to my chest for days.  Sometimes, it was hard to breathe.  Sometimes, I didn’t want to.  I knew she would have wanted me to go on.  She always said I was strong like her, but I wasn’t so sure of that any more.  And I knew she wouldn’t have wanted me to be so sad.

Just then, I noticed the hearse was parked right next to our car; so I carefully tiptoed to the back of the window.  Baby steps.  It felt as if it took a million of ‘em to damn get there, but I finally made it.  I pressed my forehead against the cold metal door and said a quick prayer to God.

“Please, God…don’t leave me.  I need You to guide me today.  Amen.”

The pallbearers walked out of the church.  Somebody grabbed my waist and gently pulled me away.  One man opened the back door.  They rolled the casket out and stood ready on the sidewalk.

Mama?  Can you hear me?  Mama?  Please answer me.

There was no sound.  Everybody moved with slow, fluid movements.  My only sensation was the cold breeze on my face and legs from the people passing by.  The casket seemed to levitate in the air and float down the aisle to its resting place at the altar.  The ushers carried flowers.  The funeral director carried a wreath.  My legs were weak.  My body, tired.  I hadn’t slept in days; and I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten.  The people poured into the church–women sobbing into their tissues, men looking straight ahead through teary eyes.

Somebody nudged me forward.  They were ready for the family to enter the church.  We took a couple of steps; then the inside doors closed.

Why the hell did they close the doors?  This must be some dumb ass Southern ritual!

We stood in the foyer holding hands.  I was busy watching my feet and trying not to react to the constant sniffing all around me, counting my tears as they fell to the floor, trying to regain control of my emotions.  An usher was standing there in her white nurse’s shoes.  She grabbed my hand.

“Everything’s gonna be all right, baby.  She’s with our Father in Heaven.  She’s in a much better place.  Okay?  Hold your head up and don’t feel no sorrow.  Celebrate her life today,” she said in an attempt to make me feel better, I suppose.

Fuck you, old bitty.

I wanted to tell her exactly how I felt about her comforting words.  But my body was so hot that I was afraid my verbal response would set her wig on fire.  So I nodded my head instead and quickly directed my attention back to the floor.  Just then, the doors opened.  I looked up.

Oh, God!  They opened the casket?!  I can’t look at her!  I don’t want to see her like that!

The people now holding my hands began the long walk down the aisle; but I didn’t move at first.  My body was shutting down.  My heart literally ached so badly I had to snatch my right hand away and rub my chest.  The person on my left stopped…then started walking again, dragging me out of my subconscious protest.

Mama?  Can you hear me?  I know you wouldn’t want me to feel this way.  But I don’t know what to do.  Mama, tell me what to do.  Please?  I’d give anything to hear you crack on somebody right now.  Mama?  I’m scared.  You know I’m scared of dead folks.  Okay, when we get to the altar, I’m just gonna stare at the floor until they close the casket, okay?  Damn, we got here quick!

Someone sat me down on the front pew–a few feet away from the casket–and I quickly closed my eyes and covered them with one hand.  Just then, I heard her voice inside my head.

“Dede, don’t be scared of me.  Look at me.  Say goodbye to Mama, now.”

Mama?

I took my hand down and opened my eyes.  My eyes traveled from the deep, red carpet…to the silvery-blue casket…to Mama’s face.

You look just like Aunt Tee layin’ there.

She was wearing a dress that my little sister had picked out for her–her Matron of Honor dress from her best friend’s wedding a few months ago.  A picture of the wedding party popped into my head.  I compared the two images.

Well, her hair is the same.  It looks good.  She was so beautiful in that cream dress; and her face was glowing.  Now, her face is lifeless and dull, and her neck is swollen to the size of a small cantaloupe.  She looks dead.  Who was that that tried to tell me she looked like she was sleeping?  That’s the difference between the two.  Am I really supposed to celebrate this?

I looked down at my tear-stained obituary and then fanned myself with it as I listened to the choir perform a medley of songs Mama usually led on Sundays.  I watched Tracy–five years my senior–rock in her seat and envied her because Mama was there for her courthouse wedding and the birth of her children.  I’ll never have that.  I turned to Phyllis–six years my junior–just in time to see the back of her dress as she ran out of the church screaming, “Ooh, that’s Mama’s song!”

Those old ladies are gonna have to run a lot faster than that if they want to catch that girl!  Don’t they know she’s been running from whoopin’s for sixteen years?  Ain’t that right, Mama?

I pitied her because she would have to celebrate the rest of her life’s triumphs without having Mama there.

I opened the obituary to the first page and noticed a poem that looked vaguely familiar.

Many times you’ve spoken these words

Today they reign TRUE

We knew not their meaning

But God has revealed them through the life in YOU

No matter how deeply you were troubled

No matter how slowly passed the sleepless NIGHTS

No matter how intense the pains

The only words you ever spoke were “I’M ALRIGHT”

We sit in wonderment, why life must come to an abrupt END

Seems we could hear your voice whispering in the distance

Like the passing of a GENTLE WIND

“Don’t cry for me, my family.

At last I have taken my FLIGHT.

God has answered all of my prayers.

Today, I’M DOING ALRIGHT.”

In Loving Memory of

Jessie M. Lott

“The Lott Family’s Strength and Jewel”

October 21, 1949 – January 30, 1996

Your brother says I helped him write this poem, Mama; but I don’t remember.  It doesn’t even sound like anything I’ve ever written.  But let’s just take his word for it.  You know he’s right about everything.

…

I walked in the door of my apartment and put my bag down right outside the kitchen.  Everything was clean.  Tiffany, Kelly, and Angel had cleaned up; but nobody was there.  I found the refrigerator fully stocked with Pepsi and the cabinets with lots of junk food.

Ah, it’s good to be home!  It’s good to not have people watching me, asking if I’m okay every five minutes.

I walked back to my bedroom and noticed the light flashing on the cordless phone.  I called to check my voicemail messages.

“You have one new message.  First message…sent Tuesday, January 30th at 2:30 p.m.”

Hey, Dede.  It’s me.  I was just calling because I won’t be here when you go on your lunch break.  I know that’s when you usually call.  I guess I must’ve missed you today.  Seem like I only call you when you sleep and right when you going to work, don’t it?  You know my mind ain’t good.  So, don’t be mad at your old momma (laughs).  Well, I ain’t want nothing.  Just knew you was gone call tonight, so I wanted to call you so you would know where I’mma be at…since you claim you can’t keep up with me.  Gentry playing at home tonight; so I’ll be across the street at the game.  If you gone call, just wait ’til you get home from work.  I should be here by then.  I’ll stay up for you!  All right.  I’mma go.  You know I hate talking on this damn thang (laughs).  Love you.  Bye-bye.

I love you, too, Mama.  Bye-bye.

And I slept for two days…