The Funeral. Final Episode

Mary and Mike had been married for forty years. They had three children, all grown up, married and living away from home. His dictatorial and tyrannical ways had encouraged their swift departure from under his roof as soon as they were viably independent. He rarely saw them. They called occasionally but he was generally at work. Mike was ten years Mary's senior. He would be retiring from his job as a driver with Dublin Bus next year after forty-five years service.

Originally from Cavan, he was now settled and living in Coolock on the north side of Dublin. Mike had retained tracesof his flat Cavan drawl, although he never returned to visit relatives still living in the old place. Mike had maintained strict control over Mary all their married life. he didn't approve of her mixing and socialising with neighbours and having a life of her own. He opened the hall door a fraction when friends called, his body blocking their entrance. Mary had to forcefully push him out of the way to allow the caller space to pass between the door and the wall. He then sat in cold silence during the visit, until eventually, Mary's friends declined her invitations to call around. She had umpteen rows with him over what she called his control tactics, she called him a psychological bully and anti social, but of course he didn't agree. When he came home from work, he expected Mary to put his dinner up on the table and stay watching his choice of television. Mary was slowly smothered. Her confidence reached rock bottom.

She astounded him one day by announcing that she had got a job. Mike's mouth went slack and for once he hadn't an instant reply, but when he did get his voice back, he spluttered, 'you've got a job, who in the name of God, in their rightr minds, would give you a job?' He looked at her over his glasses waiting for her reply. Twisting her hankie into a ball, Mary straightened her back, raised her voice and said, 'I've got a job in the local corner shop and no matter what you say, I'm going to take it.' Mike opened his eyes wide, he turned his head slightly and watched her closely, he saw the stiff back and he took in the set of her mouth and knew she meant what she said. He shook his head to cover his confusion, passing his hand slowly over his mouth, as he continued to stare at her, she turned and walked away.

It was the turning point in their relationship. Mary was at last out of the house, no longer under Mike's control and for the first time making her own money. She was independent and it showed. She now challenged his authority, she had opinions which she maintained and supported, he found it hard to accept but reluctantly he realised he had no choice. She blossomed and grew in confidence, she loved her job. Her life took on a new meaning. She got to know all the neighbours; because the corner shop played a pivotal role in the fabric of the closely knit community. For Mary, life had a new meaning and at last she was really enjoying it.

Mike was brought back to reality by the fussy undertaker; who had finally sorted out the paper work. He informed him that the body could now be released. Mike walked out the mortuary after his wife's coffin. His heart was heavy with an unfamiliar feeling of sadness and for the first time since he had married, he felt unsure of himself and alone. He had lost the woman, whom he now realised was his life, but this realization was coming too late for Mary and way too late for Mike. He now felt he had nothing worth living for and without Mary, he didn't know how to handle this new empty feeling.

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The Funeral. Second instalment.

He went back to the day that Mary had received the invitation from her cousin Brenda, requesting her to travel to Devon, to join in an extended family celebration for Brenda's seventieth birthday. When Mary read the letter at the breakfast table, Mike, without giving it a second thought, had instantly put his foot down and said they were not going.

'Why do you want to traipse all the way over there for that kind of thing?' he growled, 'as usual,your family must have everyone dancing attendance on them,' he continued, as he spread a generous dollop of marmalade on his toast. As far as he was concerned that was the end of the matter, in his house, his word was law, that's the way it was and that's the way he wanted it to stay.

Without saying a word, Mary abruptly stood up from the table; her chair loudly scrapped the floor as she angrily pushed it away. She sharply pulled her navy blue cardigan tightly around her generous bosom, and then clattered the dishes off the table and over to the sink, slamming closed the door of the press under the sink, after she had discarded the used tea bags. Mike looked up from his morning paper, he noticed the short abrupt angry movements and he knew she was in a tear but he didn't know what was wrong with her.
'Yerra,' he thought, 'what ever it is, she'll have to get over it.' He shrugged his shoulders and returned to reading the sport's section

Mike's wife of forty years, much to his surprise and against his expressed wishes, had travelled to England to attend the family celebration. The morning after the party Mary had collapsed and died suddenly. She had come down to the kitchen in the early hours of the morning to make herself a cup of tea, obviously she had taken a bad turn and had collapsed just inside the kitchen door and although not dead on impact, she had died before the medical team arrived. Her cousin Brenda had heard the crash, she had rushed down the stairs, ran into the kitchen where she had found Mary lying on her side in a heap on the floor. Her face was grey in colour and her breathing was noisy, in fact Brenda thought she was snoring. She knelt beside her, gently brushed her hair away from her face and softly whispered,'are you all right?' She didn't get a reply and Brenda drew back in horror when she saw the expression change on Mary's face. Her mouth twisted open, her lower lip became slack, her nostrils dilated and her chest heaved suddenly and out of rhythm as she drew her last breath. Brenda was afraid. She put her hand up to her mouth and watched in horror as she saw Mary's face go still. She saw the colour drain from her face and the grey became white. She had never seen anyone die before, but now she knew she was seeing death steal over Mary's face.

The emergency services were called, they filled the kitchen, chairs were pushed back and the kitchen table was shoved against the wall. Their equipment was scattered around the floor and the room became too small for all the people standing around watching the resuscitation. the team worked on mary for half an hour but gave up when it was apparent that nothing could be done.

Brenda then phoned Mike and between sobs and sighs she told him the bad news. Mike was shattered. Putting the phone back on the receiver he called the family and listened in sadness to their shocked gasps and cries of disbelief to the news of the sudden death of their mother. By the law of averages, Mike should have been the one to go first but surprisingly Mary had got the call, leaving Mike to muddle on. He passed his shaking hand over his bald head as he pulled out a kitchen chair and rested his small fat frame carefully on the hard seat. In shock, he bent his head into his large hands and went over the events leading up to this dreadful news.

My wedding day
I was seven years old standing in what my school called the nature garden a fenced off area that ringed the playground with trees and a pond and grassy areas and it was my wedding day. Peter was my best friend and he was also my fiance at the time. We were obsessed with having a fake marrige and i got busy organising. First the priest, my friend Anthony offered himself for the job before i even had to ask. I tried to decide how many bridesmaids and flowergirls to have. Every female in the class begged me for the honour as this was the only fake marrige to ever happen in my school. I finally settled on several girls I had Amy,Aisling and Rebecca as bridesmaids and Lillian, Emma and Stephanie as my flower girls. The location was obvious there was two lines of trees forming an arch over a mubby slope that was used as aslide by everyone I thought it would be the ideal place. Peter of course had nothing to do but show up which he assured me he would do. As I headed to the place i would me married i saw people clearing the way and spreading the news that Peter and I were getting married. As I made my way to the top of the slope a crowd consisting of most of the year twos had assembled to watch the marrige. I had no reservations about the marrige at all. I had planned in tyhe ten miutes of first break and now at lunch it was going to happen. When it came to the actual ceremony the group gathered around had stopped people sliding down the slope as Anthony made a good attempt at a wedding mass and had us saying very short vows i was pretty sure he made up. After he said you may now kiss the bride Peter kissed my cheek and everyone cheered I was now married to my best friend. Our honeymoon consisted of hanging out with our friends and talking about the wedding untill they bell rang. A year later we had another wedding for us almost an exact replica of the previous years one. Exept a couple of days later I found out he was moving to "somewhere near Manchester" and a couple of weeks later my pretend husband had gone never to be seen again.

Moving On

Goodbyes are never easy, and this goodbye was no different. This was a Saturday
in July during the hot summer of 76. I'd lived with my family for seven years in one of two adjoining guards houses on the outskirts of Kilrush, a small town in County Clare. We were moving to the town of Navan in faraway County Meath. I remember sitting in the back seat of our wine coloured Escort car saying goodbye to David, my next door neighbour, who was also aged nine. The leather seats were hot from the sun and were uncomfortably sticky against my bare legs. " You know when the time comes we will be able to marry", David was saying. "Its a bit off but I'll wait if you will". We promised faithfully to write weekly until this should happen and hugged our last goodbye.
Back in the house, I went through the rooms. The sitting room with its gold stencilled walls, and the table at the end where we played draughts, cards and Scrabble and did schoolwork, all under the watchful eye of a rather scary ridged laminate framed picture of Our Lord, an Our Lord whose eyes opened and shut if you bobbed your head while staring at Him. The room looked so bare without our ancient but comfortable three piece suite, given to us by great aunt Nora before she went into a nursing home. Even the fireplace looked bereft without its brass tongs set. On to the kitchen where all the chests were ready for the removal van. Without our stuff it just wasn't home anymore. "No we are leaving the shades" , Dad was telling the removal men as they shuffled out the door with our piano, my mother's pride and joy. I then headed upstairs to get a final feel of the four rooms where I and my family had slept during my formative years. My sister Sabina was sobbing her heart out sitting on the bare floorboards where her bed used to be. My brother Colm passed, and on seeing her threw his eyes up to heaven. "Avoiding the work as usual", he muttered to my sister. From my bedroom I looked out at the back garden with its sweetpeas, marigolds and tomato plants, at the lawn where I had played so happily for most of my life. I touched the walls of my bedroom, telling each a different secret. Lastly I sat on the loo, pondering the yellow bath and sink, wondering if there would be a shower in our new house.
"Time to go", came the shout, a call I was anticipating with a mixture of trepidation and pleasure. Sabina was last down the stairs, her eyes puffed from crying. Mam was already in the car. Dad closed the front door after us and locked it dropping the key into the letterbox. All the neighbours were out to aay goodbye as we kids piled into the back seat. The goodbyes all said, finally we got on the road. The start of our long journey to another life. My mother said quietly "We'll say a few decades"

The Night My World Fell Apart

I had sat there for a number of days and nights. The dreaded inevitable was drawing nearer. The one thing in life I wondered if I would ever be able to face or accept.

Sitting there in the dimly lit room, the lemon walls seemed dull and gloomy the cream curtains were closing in around us. Normally a bright airy room, though the warmth enveloped us I was chilled to the bone. My dark trousers and check shirt did not protect me from that bitter cold feeling. My other family members were present almost like shadows as to me it was only him and I. He slept peacefully but I continued to talk to him as if we were having one of our usual hearts to hearts. The devoted bond we had for each other was more precious than one can know. We had soldered a long road together and whatever life would bring he was always there to carry me through.

At 1.10am I drove to the 24 hour shop for milk. The shop attendant almost begrudged my custom as he had to put down the book he was reading and serve me. He certainly had not learned any customer care skills.

Back to the house again we replenished our coffee cups and I stayed close to him once again. He continued to sleep but occasionally he would open an eye as if to check that we were all present. He looked so serene in his blue pyjamas and his grey short beard was perfectly groomed. As the dark began changing to dawn, amid his loving family he drew his last breath without any fuss just as he had lived his short life.

Sometime later, I had to go back to the same shop and there was the same assistant sitting in the same seat reading the same book. As he went to get my goods I realised that his world had not changed in those short few hours but mine had fallen apart. Little did he know I had lost my one and only brother whom I loved with all my heart.

To this day that shop attendant still stays in my mind. I expected the whole world should have stopped when my loved one had passed away.

The Funeral

Mike O'Regan was in the mortuary building at Dublin Airport, waiting for the release of his wife's remains. He was frustrated and annoyed because the red tape and time consuming formalities had delayed the discharge of the body. One of the necessary documents required by the city coroner's department had gone missing; the undertaker Mike had engaged was now in the process of sorting that out.

Mike's face was set in hard lines; his eyes were dark and miserable as he prowled the waiting room in a weary circle. he furrowed his brow as he saw the mortuary's supervisor, who was called Joe, heading, once again, in his direction. This small wizen man was getting under his skin. He took in the long face, the forced smile, the jerky hand movements, dry skin rubbing off of dry skin. He glared crossly at Joe as he heard him say, 'ya know, there isn't a day passes that we don't have trouble with some missing document or another, your case is no different.'

Mike knew that he was being set up; he knew, for certain, that Joe was just passing time and he wasn't in the mood for this. He gave him a cold stare, followed by a deadener of a look, as he removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes to ease the strain. He rudly turned his back on the man and walked towards the window. He just wanted to be left alone.

The waiting room was painted light beige, scuff marks were showing on the wall where the door had continually banged off the plaster. Unread magazines were scattered across the low table which seperated the rows of low, unoccupied arm chairs lined up on either side of the room. Stillness hung depressingly around the area. Even though it wasn't cold, Mike felt chilled, he hadn't slept properly since he had heard the news, may be that's why he felt cold to his marrow. He thought of all the people, who like him, had waited in sorrow, in this very room, for loved ones to be released from the holds of planes. What tears must have flowed here, how many hearts had been broken, how many lives destroyed?

The single storey, grey building, adjacent to the air freight hanger was situated well away from terminal 1 and 2. The Dublin Airport Authorities, just like every airport authority in the world, shielded travellers from the depressing realities of bringing home the dead. Coffins were off loaded from the hold long after passengers had departed into the terminal building, blissfully unaware that they had travelled with a corpse. Looking out the window of the mortuary chapel, Mike observed the comings and goings of planes, as they carried commuters and holiday makers to their various destinations and he accepted that life must go on. Not for the first time, he tried to put together the pieces of the jigsaw that had brought him to this sad and lonely place.

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