Letters Home, Section 2, January 4, 2000

January 4, 2000

“Well,” Lisa said as she quietly spoke to Monica at the side of the room, watching the stream of strangers parade through the grand entranceway to look at the body in the coffin, “it’s just as she wanted. Laid to rest in a casket made of oak.”

“I don’t quite understand the people, though,” Monica added. “It doesn’t seem like her to want strangers coming through looking at her. It’s just not what I expected. I thought it would be more quiet, intimate, so to speak, with just a few people. After all, this is a woman who wished to die at home. No hospital, no machines around her, just as natural as when she came in to this world.”

“That is how she wanted her funeral, small and quiet, but the State decided to put her on display when the Governor learned that she had died. I was only referring to the oak casket that the workers made for her.”

“They did do a beautiful job. It’s lovely.”

The two ladies continued to stand by the wall, watching and listening to the mourners as they passed the body.

“You know,” one woman whispered to another woman beside her, “she really doesn’t look quite as old as they say. I wonder if it’s the real body.”

“May be she got some work done,” another woman motioned towards the face, “you know.”

“I heard,” another quietly mentioned, “that she buried all her millions in jars and bags and boxes around the property.”

“Really,” a stranger behind the other woman added, “I heard that she died penniless and that that’s why the State owns the place now.”

Monica exhaled at having heard the comments. “How can they be so, so…”

“Uh-huh,” Lisa replied, rubbing her temple with her fingers. “I can’t say I was her biggest fan, but this is disgraceful.”

“Disrespectful,” Monica added. “What about her nephew, her niece?”

“Well, her nephew has already passed on and her niece just died earlier this, well, last year. As far their children and grandchildren, I don’t know that they even knew of her. She never had any contact with them.”

“Who’s the old lady in the box,” a child with sparkling green eyes asked his mother as they passed the body, placing roses at the base.

“No one we knew,” she replied.

Monica cleared her throat and brushed her hand through her hair, trying to hold back the tears. “She wasn’t all bad, no matter what anyone says. It was her and the letters that convinced me to write to my sister.”

“It’ll be a few days before she gets the letter,” Lisa replied, not noticing Monica’s tears due to the fixation on the parade of people.

“Not really. You see, I didn’t see the point in wasting another day, so I sent the letter overnight delivery. It didn’t say much really, mostly that I wanted to talk to her. Anyway, she called me this morning and we had a really nice conversation. I told her all about the Oak and the letters. After the funeral, I’m driving to see her, to have a visit.”

Lisa’s attention focused on Monica. “Really. And, all this came about just because you read the letters?”

“You really should read them, Lisa. It will make you appreciate life. There’s ten years of history in those letters, ten years of mistakes that she shared hoping that she could prevent someone else from making the same mistakes. How many people are willing to do that?”

Lisa looked down to the floor and then towards the coffin, thinking that perhaps she did not know the lady laying in the casket anymore than the strangers passing by her now.

“Boy, I’d like to get my hands on that money,” a passerby quietly said over the casket.

“Knowing her, she’s probably taking it with her, hidden it in the coffin or something,” another person whispered.

People passed, strangers crying for the deceased whom they did not know, leaving flowers of one type or another at the base of the coffin.

An elderly man in a wheelchair was pushed to where Lisa and Monica stood. “I’m Thomas,” he said, offering his hand to the ladies. “I was her banker for many years. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry to hear of her passing.”

By now, Lisa, too was blinking back tears. “I’m so glad you could come. I remember seeing you here at the Oak a few times for business gatherings and charitable events.”

“Yes, I’ve been here a few times. I’m retired now. Getting too old to see the numbers,” he laughed. “I’ll miss her,” he said as he lowered his head.

“Did you know her well, sir,” Monica asked.

The man thought for a moment. “I knew her well enough to know that she must have been hurt badly a long, long time ago. She always seemed so sad, broken-like, but there was something hopeful about her too. She became a nicer person over the last few years.”

“Yes,” the ladies agreed as the man was pushed towards the coffin where he left a bouquet before making his way to the door.

“I heard part of that,” Henry said as he neared Lisa and Monica, munching on some chips, “and I think it’s a bunch of hogwash. I’m glad the old broad is finally dead, that old witch. I hated having to deal with her.”

“And, who are you,” Monica asked.

“Oh, sorry,” Lisa began, “Henry, this is Monica, the nurse. Monica, this is Henry, the attorney for The Oak.”

“The nurse, whew,” Henry responded, continuing to draw chips out of the bag, “well, you must be really glad that she’s gone.”

“No,” Monica replied, concerned at Henry’s comments.

“Well, you must be an angel then, because that hateful old bitty wasn’t any good to any body and the world is better off without her,” he said as he walked off.

“If he disliked her so much, why did he keep working for The Oak?”

“Money,” Lisa explained and repeated. “Money. And, he talked like that to her, too, especially when she got too old to argue back.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Well, you get what you give.”

“Yes, but who started giving first or was there ever really a beginning?”

“What?”

“Never mind. I don’t think I could explain it if I tried.”

“I’ll never understand how you can stand up for her. She was not a nice person. At least, not often. Not often enough, anyway.”

When the time came for the parade to be over, the lid was closed, the curtains drawn, and chairs were set out in the entranceway facing the casket that sat at the bottom of the grand staircase. A local church leader said a few words about the lady in the coffin as he stood before a few employees and business associates of The Oak, explaining the charitable donations that the Oak had made to various organizations and talking about how little he knew the lady before saying a little prayer over the coffin. Lisa stood and spoke about her family’s history with the Oak and some of the more positive and humorous stories related to the lady in the coffin that had been passed down through generations.

Monica, though not on the agenda, stood. “I’d like to say a few words if it’s okay,” and no one objected as Monica made her way to the coffin. “Out of everyone in this room, I’ve known her the least amount of time, but I think I may know her better than any of you. I’m really not sure why I’m doing this. I just feel like a need to speak out. I’ve overheard some of the people talking about her and very few had any nice words to say. But, I’ve known a different lady, a lady who could be frustrating, yes, but a lady who could also be inspiring, a lady who had learned some lessons the hard way and wanted others to be prevented from that same pain, a lady who cared about the Oak, a lady who cared about people.”

Henry kept looking at his watch and exhaling.

“I won’t keep you any longer. I just wanted to say my peace. She was a lady who had experienced great heartbreak and great joy. And, she hoped to help teach others to focus on the joy of their lives instead of focusing on the heartbreak as she did, a mistake she didn’t realize she had made until it was too late.”

The service was completed and the coffin, carried by the field workers, was taken across the fields of clover covered now with snow out to the old oak tree by the lake. There, in the circle enclosed with white metal posts, marked off with chains, in a deep hole dug beside a marble slab bearing her sister’s name, the lady was laid to rest.

“So, Katrina’s body was returned to the Oak for burial when she died,” Monica asked, standing over the gravesite and whispering after a final prayer was said by the preacher and the attendees had begun to leave.

“Yes,” Lisa answered. “It was her wish to be returned to her home, to the Oak, to be buried here, to be buried beside her sister.”

As the winter soil was being placed upon the oak box, Monica leaned down and placed a silver coin upon the polished wood.

“What is that,” Lisa asked.

“It’s just a coin. It has the Lord’s Prayer written on one side and, on the other side, an engraving of a mountain, symbolic of strength, of faith. I like to think of it as the rock of ages. I’d like her to have it now.”

Later, as the winter sun of a new year set across the Oak and a new snow began to fall, two graves rested side by side, two sisters, together, forever and always.




This work is entirely fictional. Any resemblance to situations or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and unintentional.