The icing on the cake came when a young woman with blond dreads came forward. She identified herself as ‘Siren, one of the members of Holy Rock. Rena recalled exactly who she was and smiled when she saw her stand on the side of Audrey’s casket. Siren was a wonderful speaker, and anyone who listened to her was touched by her majestic words.
“I’ve been a member of Holy Rock church since I was a little girl,” Siren said. I grew up under the leadership of Pastor Graham, Sr. Now I’m privileged to continue my growth under his son, Pastor Stiles,” she said and looked tearfully in the direction of the family. “God has truly blessed my life, and I’m thankful for the Graham family. First Lady Audrey was always the epitome of grace and eloquence. She stood out among the crowd.”
The young woman wiped tears from her eyes, but continued to speak. “When it comes to death and dying, I know what the Word of God says. I believe that First Lady Audrey is with the Lord. But yet, when I thought about her and her death, it caused my spirit to shutter. I have to admit, that dying, not death, is a little scary to me, even though I believe with all of my heart that when I do die, I will go to be with God. I wrote a poem some time ago about death that I asked to have placed in First Lady Audrey’s obituary. As a spoken word artist, I’ve frequented various venues in Memphis, determined to make a name for myself in the literary world. When I talked to Pastor Stiles and recited the piece to him, he was emotionally touched by it. And so here I stand today before each of you to recite, “Fear of Death.”
Lord, Please don’t let me die in Winter
A season of loss and regret
Amends not made yet
Memories of love lost
Combined with snow, sleet, frost
Moaning winds blow bitter and bold
The earth like my heart, still and cold
I will surely die a sinner
If you should let me die in Winter.
Lord, Please don’t let me die in Spring
When eternal hope shines in my eyes
And my future is as clear as the morning skies
When all is yellow, blue, and green
Like dew my soul is new and clean
When my spirit is full of faith and light
And like an eagle my soul takes flight
The voice in my heart will cease to sing
If you should let me die in Spring.
Lord, Please don’t let me die in Summer
When I am unruly and careless like a sunny day
Like heat, steamrolling and trampling all in my way
My will is strong and seemingly invincible
And rejects logic and all things sensible
Brash, brilliant, and bright as a sun ray
Treating life and love like child’s play
Everyone will gasp in awe and wonder
If you should let me die in Summer.
Lord, Please don’t let me die in Fall
When what once was new begins to fade
And resolve diminishes from too much shade
As promises like leaves drift in the wind
Briefly stand still then take off again
When from death creeping things start to crawl
And I’m reminded of the fleetingness of it all
Before my soul flies it will surely stall
If you should let me die in Fall
Winter, Summer, Spring, or Fall
Lord, Please don’t let me die at all
For until I draw my last breath
I will not escape my fear of death
Siren~ ©
When the talented, young word artist was finished, there was barely a dry eye in the church, including Rena’s. For Rena, the poem perfectly explained how many people view death. No one wants to die, even though we all have to. No one wants to see what’s on the other side, but Christians, Rena thought, should long to be at eternal rest where death, sorrow, and no worries about tomorrow exist. Yet, much like the young poet, Rena sometimes felt the fear of the unknown.
Robert pulled Rena’s shoulders lovingly toward him. Last night’s argument hadn’t stopped him from being by her side. Rena glanced over at him as he tightened his grip around her shoulders. He felt strong, and he felt perfect. She looked at Stiles on the front seat, and next to him, Sister Detria, planted between Pastor and Stiles. Rena watched her too. Something about her was refreshing and real. Rena thought that perhaps Stiles had found a woman he could trust for real. Why would she want to even entertain grand illusions of Stiles and her getting back together and living happily ever after? It was not an illusion; it was delusional, Rena thought.
Stiles approached the pulpit and stood bravely before the crowd of mourners. “That was truly a touching poem. Thank you for that, Siren,” he said and looked over to the right of the sanctuary where the young woman was seated. “That’s how many of us view death. I know some of you may be asking yourself why I asked Miss Siren to recite her poem at my mother’s home going. But you see, that’s exactly what many people fear. They fear dying, and by fearing death, they sometimes miss out on living. Because you see, for us, death never comes at the right time. And when it does come, we’re never quite ready to go. That doesn’t necessarily mean that we don’t have things in order with God, but what it does mean,” he said, “is that we’re so fixated on this world that we’re fearful of what’s on the other side. We fear death because it comes so quickly. It doesn’t give us a warning. It doesn’t ask our permission. It just shows up.” Stiles’s voice was strong. It was evident that God was speaking through him. “I won’t be long winded today. It’s a hard task to perform—eulogizing my mother.” He choked back tears. “But the truth remains that whether it’s spring, summer, winter or fall, death is surely coming. Nothing can stop it. No amount of pleading with God. No amount of doctor visits or living right. No amount of anything can stop what is inevitable. And my friends and family, death is inevitable. I’m going to miss my mother. In fact, I miss her already. She was a remarkable woman. A woman who didn’t hesitate to speak what was on her mind.” Silent, but respectful giggles could be heard in the sanctuary when Stiles made that statement.
Rena listened and thought about how harsh Audrey could be one minute and sweet as cherry pie the next.
“My mother was a loving wife for well over thirty years to my father, Pastor Chauncey Graham. Pastor Chauncey Graham built Holy Rock. He built it on strong Christian principles and moral values taken directly from the Word of God. And my mother, First Lady, as she loved to be called, was forever by his side.”
Several people could be heard saying, “Amen, Yes, sir.” Some nodded their heads in agreement. “First Lady Audrey Graham loved her husband. Pastor Chauncey Graham loved his wife. They were a living example of what it means to be equally yoked and joined together by God ’til death did them part. I’m not going to keep you much longer. But I do want to tell you that my mother is not gone. Pastor,” Stiles looked over at his father, “your wife is not gone. Francesca, Momma is not gone. Friends and family, Audrey is not gone.” Stiles’s voice began to rise. “For the Bible states clearly that to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. And I’m here to tell you that I’m not worrying about where my mother is. I’m not wondering where she went. I know that nothing is lost when you know where it’s found. So I’m telling you that if you don’t have your house in order, now is the time to get your life straight with God. It doesn’t matter if your sins be as scarlet because the God I know, the God my mother knew, the God Pastor knows and many of you all out there know,” Stiles pointed out to the crowd, “will make you whiter than snow. He stands ready to welcome you into His loving, forgiving arms. The God First Lady Audrey Graham knew for herself, stands ready to accept you into His kingdom. He will forgive and forget your sins and separate them as far as the east is from the west. I’m thankful that I had a godly mother because that means that one day,” Stiles pointed his finger upward, “I said, one day, Pastor, one day, we’ll see her again.”
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br /> Stiles said a moving prayer after his eulogy. The church seemed to be on fire with praises and thanksgiving.
During the remainder of the funeral, Francesca barely made another sound, that is, until the casket was opened for final viewing. People filed along past the casket in tears, sobs, and others were quiet and sullen. When it was time for the family’s last viewing, Pastor could no longer hold back his grief. He bent over and kissed Audrey and touched her cold skin and sobbed heavily. He seemed barely able to stand. Stiles stood next to him and supported him; Detria stood next to Stiles and held on to his arm with one hand while she wiped tears from her face with the other. Rena saw the tears Stiles shed too. Her heart fluttered. He was handsome as ever. He stood erect, wearing a black suit with his signature white starched shirt and shining black shoes. Pastor and Stiles were dressed alike, both with purple ties adorning their white shirts. Purple had always been Audrey’s favorite color. Francesca was surrounded by ushers and funeral directors. She leaned over the casket like she was about to climb in it with Audrey. Stiles looked at her with a stern face. He removed his hand from Detria. Detria automatically stood aside and Stiles latched hold to Francesca and tugged her along with him and Pastor.
The procession to the burial was long, probably sixty cars or more. Afterward, people returned to Holy Rock Banquet Hall for the repast. Rena hoped at the repast that she would get to talk to Stiles. She wanted to tell him what a beautiful eulogy he’d done over his mother.
The kitchen ministry had done an outstanding job. Rena saw Detria rushing about in and out of the church’s kitchen. Long tables had been strewn together, and there was more food and beverage than anyone could imagine.
“They put Audrey away nicely,” Rena’s mother said. She took several bites of food from a hefty sized plate.
“Yes, they did. When some of the people start thinning out, I’m going to see if I can go talk to Pastor Graham before we leave,” Mr. Jackson commented.
Robert was quiet; he looked around the large banquet hall while he ate his food.
“I agree with you, Momma. Everything was nice. If Audrey could give a review, she’d definitely give it an A for excellent,” Rena said.
“Yes, she would,” the familiar voice said from behind Rena. She looked up and into the eyes of Stiles. “Mother was a stickler for professionalism mixed with a little flamboyancy,” Stiles said and twisted his hand from side to side.
“Stiles,” Mrs. Jackson said and wiped her mouth. “Everything was put together extremely nice. Come, sit with us,” she said politely. The ill feelings she had toward him were pushed aside. Now was not the time to hold on to grudges.
Stiles sat down. “How long are you all going to be in town?” he asked and looked around the table. His eyes appeared to linger a little longer on Robert.
“We’ll be leaving early tomorrow morning,” Rena spoke up.
Stiles eyes shifted to Robert. “I’m sorry, but I don’t recall your name,” Stiles said to Robert.
“Robert . . . Robert Becton.” Stiles excused himself and reached across Mrs. Jackson as he extended his hand toward Robert. The two men shook hands. Afterward, Robert rested his arm around Rena’s shoulder, like he was staking his claim.
Stiles leaned back in his chair. “So, you’re a librarian as well?” he asked.
Rena cleared her throat. “No, he’s a science teacher and an assistant basketball coach,” she spoke on behalf of Robert.
“I see. That’s interesting,” said Stiles and then he stood up. “If you all will excuse me, I want to make my rounds; speak to some of the others who came out to celebrate Mother’s home going.” His eyes focused on Rena one last time. “Rena, have you spoken to Francesca again?” he asked.
Rena stopped chewing the piece of food she had in her mouth. She picked up the glass of iced tea and swallowed a bit of it. “Uh, no I haven’t. I’m sure I’ll talk to her before we leave the repast. She seemed to take Audrey’s death pretty hard.”
“Yeah, she did, didn’t she? Well, again, thank you all for coming. I hope I get a chance to say good-bye before you all leave. And Robert, it was nice meeting you.” Stiles turned and walked away. Rena’s eyes remained glued on him until he stopped at another table.
Rena wiped her mouth with her napkin. “Excuse me; I see someone I know. I’ll be back shortly,” she said.
Robert stood up and helped to pull out her chair from the table. “Do you want me to go with you?” he offered.
“No, that won’t be necessary. I shouldn’t be long. I’m going to meander around the banquet hall.”
Robert sat back down and entered into conversation with the Jacksons.
Rena stopped at various tables of people she’d known when she lived in Memphis. It felt good to talk with old friends and acquaintances.
She caught up on what was going on in people’s lives and exchanged her glad news about her life changes since her move back to Andover. The table she ventured to next was where Francesca sat. Rena didn’t know how to react when they met each other’s gaze. Was Francesca going to make a scene or what? Rena forced herself to put on a fraction of a smile.
“Hello, Francesca.”
“Hello, Rena. I’m glad you’re here.” Francesca stood up and with the aid of her cane, she took several steps, and then slightly tilted her head for Rena to follow her. Rena looked back for a second, and then presumed to trail Francesca to a portion of the room where no one was standing or sitting.
“It’s good to see you again.” Rena told her and licked her lips nervously.
“Sure it is,” Francesca answered rather calmly. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine,” was Rena’s response. “But the real question is, how are you? The past couple of days have been exceptionally tough for you.”
Frankie didn’t acknowledge Rena’s concerns. She immediately voiced concerns of her own. “What made you come here? It’s not like you or I was a big fan of Audrey’s,” scoffed Francesca.
Rena’s lips parted in total surprise when she heard Francesca’s spiteful remark about, of all people, her mother. “Francesca, Audrey was your mother. How could you say something so mean?”
Francesca leaned against the wall of the building for added support. “The truth is the truth. You know it and I know it.” Francesca looked over Rena’s shoulder. “Is that your new man?” she asked Rena and lifted her head in a forward nod in Robert’s direction.
Rena pressed her lips together, upset that Francesca was being so callous. “Let’s just say that he’s a special friend of mine.” Rena’s facial expression became serious. She sucked in a deep breath before she started talking again. “How has your health been?”
“What you mean to ask is, do I have full blown AIDS or am I still HIV positive?” Rena’s face reddened. “I’m doing okay,” answered Francesca.
Like a person with a split personality, Francesca’s demeanor and voice changed. Rena saw her shoulders relax and the frown that was etched on Francesca’s face slowly disappeared. “Rena, I’ve done a lot of wrong in my life. I’ve made a lot of mistakes. Because of some of those bad choices, I have herpes and I’m HIV positive.”
Rena saw the familiar frightened look on Francesca’s face. It was the same endearing, pleading look that Francesca had often used in the past to suck Rena in and have her doing any and everything to help her. Somehow, things were different this time because Rena didn’t feel that same tug or pull on her heart strings.
Rena raised her hand up in an effort to halt Francesca’s words.
“No, let me finish. I’ve needed to say this for a long time. It’s one of the reasons I made a last minute decision to come to all of this fancy get up,” Francesca said and looked around the packed banquet hall. “I figured you and your family would be here. Did you know that Fonda is here?”
“No, no I didn’t see her,” Rena said awkwardly.
Francesca pointed in the direction to the left of Rena, and told her where Fonda was sitting with her
husband and kids. “You see how happy she looks? People like her need to be rotting away in hell. She needs to be the one feeling the pain I feel,” Francesca said harshly.
Rena reached out to take hold of Francesca’s hands, but Francesca pulled back. “I don’t need your pity anymore, Rena. I’ve settled everything with God. I’m trying to right some of the wrongs I’ve done in my life. I’m not all prissy like you; I never have been. I’m not ashamed of who I am, but I am ashamed of some of the things I’ve done. I can’t help it if I don’t feel sad like most of you all do over Audrey’s death. I’ve been praying about that too. But I just don’t feel it,” Francesca said.
“Then why all of the balling and the charades at the viewing last night and at the funeral today?” Rena’s expression was strained; it was hard looking at the woman Francesca had turned into.
“It wasn’t a charade. To tell you the truth, I cried for of all of the years when I wasn’t allowed to cry. I cried for all of the years the woman in that casket held back her love from me. I cried because for the first time in my life, I think I can go on now. I can live my life. Now maybe that sounds cruel to you; and if it does, then I can’t apologize; I won’t apologize. I have only one person to answer to and that’s the man up above. I’m sad for Pastor because he loved Audrey. I’m sad for my brother because he’s just like Audrey. And I’m sad for you because you were an innocent bystander, found guilty because you loved me and you loved Stiles.”
Rena teared up. “Stop it, Frankie . . . Francesca. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to be deceitful to Stiles. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Rena’s tears fell freely.
“Come on, let’s step outside. You don’t want everyone having something else to talk about,” Francesca said and walked in the direction of the back door.
My Son's Ex-Wife: The Aftermath Page 20
