Seeing Your Face Again

by Jerry S. Eicher

  Thirty-Nine

  Ida sat on the long bench near the front of the living room with all of Melvin’s children on both sides of her. “It’s only for today now,” Minister Kanagy had reminded her again. Ida wished he wouldn’t be so insistent on the matter. She understood that she had to leave Melvin’s children after the funeral, but right now she didn’t want to think about tomorrow or even about the next moment. Soon Melvin’s body would be placed in the ground at its final resting place, and life would end for her. At least that’s how it felt.

  She comforted herself with the thought that Melvin wasn’t really present now. Only his physical body lay in the coffin. Melvin’s spirit was even now with Da Hah! What was buried would one day be raised out of death into eternal life. Yet, if she were honest, these truths meant little today. Even though they’d been whispered to her by family members and friends from the community a hundred times in the past few days.

  And then there had been the news this morning whispered among the women. Minister Kanagy’s frau, Barbara, had been told by her doctor yesterday, that breast cancer had been found. A serious case of it. Minister Kanagy should be in sackcloth and ashes himself this morning instead of being busy with his instructions to her about Melvin’s children. But she mustn’t think ill of the man. There might be more hope for Barbara than the women assumed. That’s how those things went sometimes. People tended to think the worst.

  One thing Ida did know—Da Hah was dealing harshly with the Kanagy family right now. Had she perhaps been at fault in some way? But how could that be? Da Hah made His own choices, and she must not doubt Him. There were reasons for what happened that man could not understand, and she must accept them. Today she would mourn Melvin’s passing and comfort his children.

  Ida hung her head. One arm was tight around the frail shoulders of Melvin’s son, Lonnie. Lisa, Melvin’s youngest girl, was seated in her lap, snuggled up tight like she never wanted to let go. Their parting would come soon…in only hours! Minister Kanagy would make good on his warnings even with his frau ill. His had not been idle words. Hearts would tear again soon, but it couldn’t be otherwise. She was at least mature enough to know that. Even if she somehow kept the children with her, how would she support six young ones? If she were Melvin’s widow, the community would rally. They would help her until she found another husband. Minister Kanagy would help see to that—the husband and the support.

  Ida shivered at the thought. Perhaps it was best this way. If she’d said the vows with Melvin, Minister Kanagy wouldn’t rest until some widower—from who knew where—made her a marriage proposal. And she would have had to accept whether she loved the man or not. One could always learn to love, Ida supposed, but so soon after Melvin’s passing would be a struggle. So there was one thing she was thankful for today! If Melvin’s death had been necessary, which Da Hah had apparently deemed to be so, she was thankful that it had happened before the wedding. It was an awful, selfish thought to entertain at Melvin’s funeral, but she couldn’t help herself. And this was also best for Melvin’s children. They would be much happier with relatives than if they had to live with some unknown man Ida would have had to marry. All while she struggled to adjust to her new husband. Though there would surely be grace given, Minister Kanagy would say, and that was likely true. But still…

  Ida turned from her dark thoughts with a sigh. She would return home tomorrow, and life would go on. The day would be a Sunday—the first day of the week, the first day of a new beginning. In reality her old life would resume. She must be brave for the children’s sake and her own. Eyes that were cried out only did so much gut. She had discovered that upstairs in Melvin’s house the past few nights. Lily had insisted that Ida rest when she came over since Ida refused to return home. Now she glanced down the bench toward Willard. He was the oldest, and the one who had found his father’s body wrapped under the cultivator’s steel teeth. Ida held still as a cold chill ran through her body. No boy should have to experience anything like that. If she had a complaint against Da Hah—even more than the fact that He took Melvin—it was that.

  “You must not be bitter,” Minister Kanagy had lectured her when she blurted out her objections. And he spoke the truth.

  After she arrived at the house the first day she’d rushed to Willard’s side and tried to comfort him. But Willard wasn’t willing. She found him on a chair in the living room. He was staring at the wall and as cold as ice. The attention and hugs she gave him didn’t seem to reach inside him. Willard needed his real mamm at a moment like this, but that wasn’t possible. It was a horrible, dark time. Ida felt tears run down her face. Somehow Da Hah would make sense out of it all, even if she couldn’t see how things could possibly ever be right again.

  Ida forced herself to listen to Bishop Troyer from a neighboring district. The Kanagy family had requested that he come in and preach the main sermon today. Perhaps the bishop would have some final words of comfort that would give her courage for the days ahead. She should have listened since the bishop began to speak instead of wandering off in her own world filled with her own pain.

  “And now today we lay our beloved brother in the ground,” Bishop Troyer said, as he lifted both hands toward the heavens. “But let us not forget the day that will come soon, a day of light and not of shadows, a day of joy and not of sorrows, and day when our cups will overflow and not remain empty. On that day, with Da Hah Himself, our brother Melvin will come back robed in all the glory of heaven to reunite with this earthen body of his. And so will all those who have died in the faith. They will be raised again or be changed in the twinkling of an eye if they are still alive. So let us comfort ourselves with that thought as we walk through the final steps of our sorrow today.”

  Bishop Troyer sat down, and wiped his brow with his handkerchief. His head was bent low toward the floor. To Ida he looked weary, as if a great weight rested on his shoulders. She couldn’t imagine what it took for a minister to preach at a funeral, even if the deceased wasn’t related to him. Ida waited as the ushers moved the crowd past the casket. Lisa climbed out of her lap and stared at the line. At two years of age, Lisa couldn’t possibly understand what all this meant.

  “Your Daett has gone to heaven,” Ida whispered in Lisa’s ear again, just as she had that first evening. She’d pointed toward the sky and tried to explain the tragedy in a way Lisa could understand. She hadn’t succeeded though. Lisa had smiled and nodded. Later she’d asked when her daett would return from his trip to town.

  Ida pulled the girl close. There would be no return, and Lisa would eventually deal with the fact. But perhaps at two the events of today would forever be lost in the fog of unformed memories. It would be Da Hah’s mercy if this were true. Ida wished for foggy memories herself today, but she wouldn’t have any. This moment would be etched in her mind for a very long time.

  Mamm and Debbie appeared in Ida’s side vision. Daett stood up from the preacher’s bench to join them in the line. Where was Lois? Ida wondered. Surely she had come today. The answer came moments later, as Mamm and Daett, with Debbie at their sides, passed the casket. Verna and Joe stepped into view. Lois was clinging to Verna’s arm. Ida let out her breath at the sight of Lois’s black Amish dress. What if Lois had arrived in her pants today or even in a short Englisha dress? That would have been a shame the family might never have lived down. Thank Da Hah Lois had found it in her heart to make the right choice.

  The opportunity to tell Lois that Melvin had approved of her as the family witness for the anticipated wedding day had never arrived. Ida choked back a sob and slipped her hand over her mouth. There were so many gut things that would never happen now. And each day would only bring more of them to mind. She would cry for weeks, if not months. Many had walked this path before her, and she must not think Da Hah would spare her the pain others had suffered.

  Verna and Lois approached the casket. The two stood there for long moments as tears ran down their faces. Ida knew their tears were mostly for her—thei
r plain sister. They probably figured she would never have another chance at happiness. At least not like Melvin would have given her. And this was true, Ida told herself. She buried her face in her hands as more tears came.

  Little Lisa whispered in her ear, “What’s wrong, Ida?”

  There was no answer a child could understand even if she could have explained. Ida pulled Lisa close and said nothing. Someone touched Ida’s shoulder moments later, and she looked up to see Debbie standing over her. Debbie motioned for little Lonnie to slide over on the bench. She sat down beside Ida. “Your mother said to stay with you,” Debbie whispered.

  How like Mamm, Ida thought. Mamm figured that someone Ida’s own age would be the greater comfort as she faced one last look at Melvin’s face. Debbie reached over to squeeze her hand. They sat in silence as the long line of mourners moved through. Which was worse? Ida wondered. The agonizing wait or the moment she would stand in front of the casket? Beside her on the bench, Debbie gasped and a startled look crossed her face. Ida turned to look in the direction of Debbie’s glance. Her own emotions spiked. Alvin Knepp was in the viewing line! Why had he come to Melvin’s funeral? At least Alvin had the decency to stand in line with his head bowed—a proper and fitting stance for a man who was in the bann.

  Ida clutched Debbie’s hand. What must Debbie think of Alvin reappearing at such a moment? Ida snuck a glance at her friend’s face. It was pinched and pale, but the startled look was gone. What a shock this must be! What could it mean? No doubt the same question was racing through Debbie’s mind. Alvin and Melvin hadn’t been that close. Not close enough to bring Alvin home from the Englisha world on the basis of friendship. Not after all these months of silence.

  Debbie lowered her eyes as the color left her face.

  Surely Debbie must still love the man to have this kind of reaction, Ida thought. Oh, if only Alvin could see the wrong he had done and repent of his ways! Ida sat up straighter. What if Melvin’s death brought conviction to Alvin for the life he was living? Did this tragedy make Alvin consider a reconciliation with Da Hah and the community? It was possible, but Ida wouldn’t let herself jump to conclusions. Still, if Da Hah used Melvin’s death to accomplish some gut, and not just any gut but the redemption of a soul that was lost, well that would surely soften the sadness.

  Ida clasped her hands in front of her, as Lisa nestled by her side. Debbie was still looking at the floor, her facial expression frozen. This was such a sad day. Ida decided she was only grasping at straws in an attempt to find joy in the occasion. No doubt Alvin had simply been in the area for some reason and had decided to attend the funeral. But what if it were true that Alvin planned to come home? How wunderbah that would be—that something awful like Melvin’s death might be used to heal Debbie and Alvin’s relationship.

  Hadn’t Verna tried to use her wedding day to bring about the same thing? Yah, but it hadn’t worked. Ida held her breath for a moment. Yah, Melvin would smile down from heaven if Alvin were affected in a positive way by his untimely death. Melvin must even now walk with the angels and bear the crowns Da Hah had given him. Why would it be so strange if some of that glory leaked back to the earth and accomplished a great gut? She must remember this in the days ahead, when the heartache of Melvin’s loss became too much to bear. Alvin’s presence today was a work of grace even if he never repented and made his peace with Da Hah and the community.

  Forty

  As they approached the casket, Debbie stayed close beside Ida. The line had finally ended, and Melvin’s brothers and sisters had gathered by their families. Each had taken what time they needed around the casket. Minister Kanagy had sat down moments ago and motioned toward Ida. It was time for her to go up with Melvin’s children. She half expected Minister Kanagy to change his mind and substitute someone else. But she was glad he didn’t. If she’d said the marriage vows with Melvin, this would be her responsibility, so it was appropriate that she act as mamm for these children today.

  Debbie held little Lisa, and Ida managed to grab Rosa’s hand. Rosa looked like she would resist as Willard had in the beginning, but then she didn’t. Perhaps she was too numb to do so. Ida considered that it might have something to do with being the oldest boy and girl of the family that caused both Willard and Rosa to shoulder the level of responsibility they had. Both were trying hard to hide their intense grief.

  With a great sob, the pent-up emotions spilled out of Rosa. She clung to Ida’s arm and gasped for breath. Willard, standing in front of Rosa, stared straight ahead and ignored the commotion.

  Ida moved forward, and a few steps later Melvin’s bearded face lay before them. Ida’s throat closed tight. She choked. When she could breathe again, she reached over five-year-old Amos to touch Willard on the shoulder. She had to reach Willard’s heart so that his sorrow could be expressed. It wasn’t gut that all this emotion was kept locked up inside him.

  Willard didn’t flinch at her touch, but he didn’t do anything else either. His gaze over the coffin was glassy eyed.

  Ida wanted to shake him, to break through his reserve, but this was not the place for a scene. She turned her thoughts to her own heart’s sorrow. She looked long at Melvin’s still face. She would never say wedding vows with this man she had grown to love. She would never touch his face again and feel the power of his strength, or the character of his life, or the depth of how much he loved her. Ida allowed her tears to flow freely.

  Around her she heard the soft rustle of the congregation as they waited for her to finish. Debbie had stepped closer and now held her hand. The two of them leaned against each other. Ida stayed that way for several moments as time seemed to stand still. When she finally stirred, Willard was still staring sightlessly across the casket. It was time to move on. Ida nudged Amos, and he in turn nudged the others. As one group they moved back to their seats and sat down while gently sobbing.

  When Ida looked up, the pallbearers had already closed the casket. She didn’t avert her eyes as it was carried out and slid into the back of the open buggy. Minister Kanagy stood and led the way outside. Someone had Melvin’s buggy ready; Red Rover in the harness. Their ride for the day. Sobs choked Ida’s throat again as she helped the children climb in. She wished they’d used another horse for the trip to the cemetery, but that was not the way of the community. One faced the pain and so moved beyond it. She would have to see Red Rover one way or the other. She might as well begin now. It would be a long time before she wouldn’t think of Melvin at the sight of him.

  “Ride with us,” Ida whispered to Debbie, who was still at her side.

  “Is there room?” Debbie raised her eyebrows.

  “For you, yah,” Ida replied.

  Debbie seemed to understand. It would be best if they were crammed into the buggy than for Ida to ride without someone to comfort her. And it would also be better if Ida wasn’t alone with the children for these last moments together.

  “Shall I drive?” Debbie asked.

  “Nee. Just be with me,” Ida said.

  Debbie climbed in. Ida took the reins and pulled into place behind the open buggy with the casket hanging partway off the back. They didn’t have to wait long before the driver, Virgil, Joe Weaver’s younger brother, appeared. He climbed into the wagon and took the reins. Moments later Emery came out of the barn and joined him. Daett must have told Emery to help out where needed. It was gut to see her brother riding ahead of her. This prepared her for the moment when she would return to the life she’d known before Melvin was part of her future.

  Ida guided Red Rover as they followed Virgil’s wagon and pulled out of the driveway. At the first stop sign, the Englisha cars stopped and waited until the long line of buggies had passed through. Ida wept as she thought of this courtesy provided her from people she didn’t even know. No one had been asked to wait, and the people no doubt had places to be on a Saturday afternoon. Yet they paused to show their respect for the sorrow and grief in front of them.

  “I can’t believe you’r
e holding up so well,” Debbie said from the seat beside her. “And how you’re ministering to others…” Debbie’s glance took in the children.

  Ida shook her head. Debbie was kind, but she was being too generous. She didn’t have the strength to protest out loud. Nor did she have the strength to ask Debbie about Alvin. Debbie gave her arm a quick squeeze.

  They soon arrived at the cemetery and the buggies pulled off the road. Many of the drivers tied their horses along the fencerow. Before Ida climbed down, Emery came from the open buggy to secure Red Rover.

  “Thanks,” Ida whispered as she helped the smaller children down. “It was gut to see you riding ahead of us.”

  Emery gave her a warm smile. “Take courage, sister. We’re all weeping for you today. Even when our eyes are dry.”

  Ida gave Emery a grateful look. When he left, Ida led Lonnie and the others across the ditch line toward the gravesite. She was sure there had been tears in Emery’s eyes, even with his protestations to the contrary. Da Hah had blessed her with a family who stood with her in this time of great sorrow. She couldn’t imagine life after today, but at least her family would be there to help her.

  A few people had arrived in the graveyard before Ida did, and they opened up to allow her and the children through. Ida walked up to the open grave. The sight was too painful for more than one quick glance into its depths. She wasn’t supposed to draw back from the pain, but to bear up under it, Ida reminded herself. And yet she knew Da Hah would understand that there were limits to what she could endure.

  Willard stared into the grave; his gaze no longer fixed but horror stricken. Ida stepped around Amos and Lonnie and wrapped her arms around the older boy’s thin shoulders. For long moments she thought Willard would ignore her as he had done before. His gaze had returned to its fixed state, but as the prayers and Scriptures were read by Bishop Troyer, the flood gates of sorrow opened. Willard’s young voice sobbed as he wept. At times it rose above that of the bishop’s. Several people sent looks of sympathy their way. Others must also have noticed the young boy’s lack of emotion before this and were thankful that Willard now mourned. By the time they lowered the casket and began to throw dirt into the grave, Willard leaned limply against her. Ida steadied him, noting Willard’s frail frame was trembling.