John Henry's Funeral

Walking up the sidewalk to the church was awful. I could barely stand up. Burnie was on my left side and his mother was on my right side. I wouldn’t say they had to drag me, but my body felt so heavy, it seemed like they were almost carrying me.

Dad had on a new suit and tie. Mother said they put it on him in Houston. He had not taken a suit with him because he went there to work on construction. It had been almost ten days since he died, but this somehow did not seem completely real. I was at my father’s funeral.

I stood by his casket. Burnie and his mother backed up a little bit to leave me alone with my Dad. I wanted to touch him, but I didn’t want to be disrespectful or have anyone think I was crazy. The urge was overwhelming, so I reached out and touched his tie. I just ran my hand a couple of inches down it. I heard Burnie’s mother let out a little gasp. I heard Burnie tell her it was okay. As my hand was resting on his tie, I told Dad I loved him. Then, I moved my hand away, and walked slowly over to sit next to Mother. Burnie and his mother sat behind me and he put his hand on my shoulder as I sat there.

Aunt Hazel sat on the other side of me, and Uncle Albert sat on the other side of Mother. Aunt Helen sat next to him. The people attending Dad’s service were the same ones who came to the house right after we found out about Dad. They all had kind things to say to us. We sang the songs that Mother had picked out and the minister read Dad’s favorite scripture; Philippians 4:6. When the church choir director, Mr. Western, sang The Lord’s Prayer, I began crying again. This time it was just tears rolling silently down my cheeks. I was saying goodbye to my father; the man who taught me everything about sports, encouraged me to be the best writer I could be, and who completely loved and supported me in everything. I was lost.

Christmas was lost. We gave Dad’s Christmas gifts to Uncle Albert. It was interesting getting to know Aunt Hazel, though. She was a loving person and I could see how she could have completely given her heart away to her fiancé. When he died in the Great War, she simply never got her heart back. She was pleasant, but I got the feeling that she would never be able to be truly happy. From the time we spent together, I knew that she was a good and caring teacher. Aunt Hazel said that she loved kids, but that she would never have any of her own.

After Christmas, Mother and I went with back up to Steamboat Rock with Aunt Helen, Uncle Albert, and Grandma Von Dornum. Grandma was going back to her house for the rest of the winter. If she had any problems, Aunt Helen and Uncle Albert could help her. She didn’t want to be a burden to Mother. Their minister up there did a quiet graveside service for Dad, and he was buried in the cemetery there, right next to Wiard. Mother was going to have a gravestone made that would have Dad’s name and her name on it, with the year they were each born and the year they each died. I didn’t even want to think about it; Mother dying, that is.

Burnie came over and walked me to school the first day we were due back at school in January. Mother had given him a hat and scarf she knitted for a Christmas present. He was wearing them and looked quite dapper in them.

Most of my teachers knew that my dad had passed away and each took the time, either before or after class, to pull me aside and tell me how sorry they were. That was nice for them to do, but I had decided to just do the best I could at school and try not to think about how much I missed Dad. I did find it a lot harder to concentrate, and my grades slipped a little, even with Burnie studying with me a couple of nights a week.

One weekend when we were in the kitchen, Mother mentioned it. “Mable, what on earth is going on with your schoolwork? I saw the papers you left here on the kitchen table yesterday morning, and they didn’t look like your usual fine work. What is your report card going to look like?”

“Mother, I am trying. It’s been hard to concentrate. I keep thinking about how much I miss Dad.” I could tell she was genuinely concerned. I hated the thought of causing her worry.

I continued, “I worry about not swimming. I am tired from basketball. I can’t seem to keep up. I keep forgetting something I am supposed to do every week. This week it was the health report. Last week was the test in math and before that I missed a project deadline in science.” I slumped down in the chair at the kitchen table and added, “I am so sorry, Mother.”

“I’m not angry, Mable. I am worried and disappointed.” She added, “Your senior year should be fun. Losing your father was a terrible thing. Terrible for both of us, but I am so afraid you’re going to let your grades slip and the university will change their mind.” It looked like she might cry.

“Mother, I am so very, very sorry. Perhaps I should quit basketball. Maybe then I could keep up with everything.” The second I heard myself say that, I couldn’t believe it.

Mother spoke quickly. “What? What are you talking about? I didn’t say anything about quitting basketball. Is that what you think I mean?”

Now I was the one who felt like crying. First, I have her worried about my grades, and now I have upset her about basketball. This was a mess, and it was getting worse.

I offered, “I don’t know what to say, Mother. Basketball is going great. I think the problem is that I keep worrying about everything.”

“Everything?” she asked. “What do you mean by everything?”

I didn’t know what I meant by everything. School had never been hard for me. Sports had never been hard for me. Even keeping up with a busy schedule of both school and sports had never been hard, either. I had just slacked off at my schoolwork. I was goldbricking; something I had never done before. The time I was wasting, when I should have been studying, was being spent worrying about . . . I don’t know what. It was difficult to explain to Mother.

She was upset and had plenty to say. “I don’t know what you are worrying about, because there is nothing you can do about anything, except do your schoolwork and play your sports. Your father would never want you to quit basketball. I can’t believe you would even consider that. That’s the worst thing you could do. I really don’t think you meant that and I don’t want to hear one more word about it!”

I sat there with my elbows on the kitchen table and my face buried in my hands. I couldn’t even look at her. “I don’t want to quit. I will get my grades back up where they belong, I promise.”

“Mable, I am going to tell you what I think your Dad would have told you. Don’t waste time worrying. You should never worry. What you need to do is take action. It’s one of the first things I learned from him after we were married.” She took a deep breath and continued,” If there is something wrong and you can DO something about it, then DO it. But, if it is something over which you have no control, then do not worry about it. Let it go. Worrying accomplishes nothing.”

I was listening. I let that soak in.

She kept going, “I want you to focus on keeping your grades up. On basketball. On the Oracle. You have a lot of senior activities coming up this spring, and you need to plan for those. Concentrate on school and your activities. Those are the only things right now that you can control. Do you understand?”

“Now I do, Mother. I think I am worrying about Dad missing all my games. I think I am worrying about money for the university.”

She pounced on that with, “See, those are two perfect examples of things you should not worry about, because you can do nothing about them. Dad is gone and cannot come to your games. I understand how you miss him but worrying will not bring him back.”

“I know,” I murmured.

“Then there is the money for school next fall. With your swim team scholarship, there is enough. Do not worry about that. You can make more money this summer, like you did last summer with swimming lessons and lifeguarding. There will be enough money for you for school. It’s nothing you should worry about. Stop.”

“I’ll try, Mother. I truly will try,” I promised.

“Please do, Mable. Just concentrate on school and basketball for right now.” She paused and looked right at me, saying, “I promise I will try to come to more of your basketball games, okay?”

“Okay, Mother,” I agreed, “that would be nifty.”

She leaned over and gave me a hug. It was a tender hug and she felt so warm after standing over the stove.

She had one more thing to add, “Your dad was very proud of you, darling daughter. I still am very proud of you. I’m certain your father knows how you are continuing to work hard, and just like he would never want you to quit, he would not want you to waste any time worrying, either. Go to school, have fun, and you will continue to make both of us happy; if you are happy.”

I stood up and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She smiled and said, “Why don’t you head over to Burnie’s and see how he’s doing today. Maybe you could let him win, just once, in one of your little basketball games over there.” She winked at me and turned back to her kitchen work.