The Explanation

The Explanation

“Papaw, how do you know that Jesus is real?” she asked, looking up at me with those big doe eyes. We were sitting on the ornate bench across the concrete and stone room from the sepulcher that holds the earthly remains of her grandmother and the woman I loved for forty plus years. 

“Pumpkin, the Lord came to me in October of 1988 and entered my body for a short period of time. Just long enough to let me get through a task that was before me.” I told her, patting her on the leg.

“What did you have to do?” she asked.

“I had to bury your great, great grandmother.”

“Papaw, I was with you when we buried Mamaw last year. You were sad, but didn’t seem possessed,” she said.

“My lady, I was indeed possessed. Last year, back in 1988 and right now sitting on this bench with you. The Holy Spirit possesses me at all times. But you have to realize that Jesus took a personal interest and strengthened the Holy Spirit with his grace for a few days back in ‘88.”

Her face scrunched up in a puzzled look. “How did you know it was Jesus?”

I giggled. “At the time, I didn’t. I thought it might have been Lucifer.”

She changed her position so she could study my eyes as I told the story. “What happened, Papaw?”

“Me and your Mamaw got the call around 4:00 o’clock that morning. Granny had passed away about fifteen minutes earlier. As you know, Papaw’s grandfather which was Granny’s husband, passed away before I was ever born and Papaw’s daddy, which was Granny’s son, passed away when I was four-years-old.”

She laid back against my arm that was starting to tingle from lack of circulation, but I didn’t care. 

“Pumpkin; you have to realize how much Papaw loved his Granny. She was a great influence in my life growing up and when I got that call, I was not sad and did not feel any sorrow. I hung up the phone, rolled over and went back to sleep.”

“When I got up to go to work, I still felt no grief nor any sorrow. I kissed your daddy on the forehead and reminisced about how much Granny loved her great grandson who carried the same name of the son she had lost.  I remember getting a whiff of something coming from his diaper and that his mama was in for a surprise that morning.” I said, and poked her in the ribs to hear her giggle.

“My uncle flew in from Florida and made the final arrangements for Granny’s service and eternal rest. The following afternoon and way into the night, I stayed at the funeral home. I visited with the many friends of Granny and tried to keep your daddy from embarrassing his mother too much. I still felt no grief nor sorrow. I was becoming concerned with myself because I had not mourned. I tried to make myself mourn and could not. My only emotion was anger, which was because Granny was placed in a cheap coffin that was not made of metal.”

“I took off work the next day and went back to the funeral home. I felt guilt weighing heavily on my heart, but still, I could not make myself feel grief. I started to feel that the devil had taken a grip on my soul. I don’t want you to think I am complaining, Pumpkin, I wouldn’t trade my life for anything, but I was a young man at that time with a pregnant wife, an eighteen-month-old son, mortgages, loans and responsibilities. I could feel the pressures of society and responsibility closing in.”

Her beautiful little face showed the compassion in her heart that she felt for her Papaw. Her eyes were a little misty as she asked, “Was it the Devil, Papaw?”

“He might have played a part, my love, but my revelation was with my savior. Whether he saved me from myself or from Satan is still unknown and doesn’t matter. What matters is what came next.”

“I drove the twenty-two miles to the cemetery panicking because I had not shed a tear during the funeral. It felt like all the eyes of the congregation were staring at the back of my neck and I was powerless to show empathy. Most of the congregation knew the relationship that Granny and I had and would not appreciate the proper respect not being presented by me. We pulled into the parking lot and I got your dad out of the car seat in a light rain. As we were walking up to the make shift funeral tent, my mother came to me in a state of panic and said she needed to talk to me.”

“I gave your daddy and the umbrella to his mom and walked away from the crowd with my mama. That is when my mother, your great grandmother, dropped the bomb on me. The traditional placement for the wife is to the right side of the husband. My uncle, being unaware of traditions, told the funeral director to bury Granny between the two men she loved. This would have her traditionally married to her son instead of her husband. The weight became almost unbearable. I barely remember the graveside portion of the funeral. I was there in flesh but I was not there in mind. I was very angry and latched onto your daddy for a shield. I held him throughout the service and immediately left the cemetery afterward.”

“What happened?” she asked.

“I went home and stewed in my self-pity and misery for a couple of days. I could not look into my own mother’s eyes without shame. I should have tried to help my uncle, even though it was not my place. His intent was not malicious, just ignorant. I felt like a soulless creature condemned to the pits of hell.”

That sweet face was almost in tears, “What did you do, Papaw?

“My sweet baby, I did what I should have done that very first day. I went into the woods; to a spot by the creek that I love and I got down on my knees. I prayed and I prayed hard. The rollercoaster of life had me cornered in a place where I my faith was running on auto-pilot. I was going through the motions but distracted by earthly demands in my relationship with Jesus. I left the creekbank assured that Jesus had everything under control and that I had to, Man Up, and become the strong-back of my family. But even then, I could not grieve for the lady I loved dearly.”

A tear eased down her innocent face. It hurt me to cause her sorrow but I knew I had to finish.

“I called the District Attorney. He was not so much a friend of the family but was a good acquaintance.  After explaining what the dilemma was, he asked if I had enough people to move the coffin to the right place. I assured him that I did and he said to go ahead and do it. If the anyone said anything or if a deputy showed up, to have them call and he would talk to them. He explained that if we went through proper legal channels, this might take six months or more to correct.”

“A couple of close friends and your Papaw started early the next morning. We dug the grave for Granny with shovels to the proper size and depth and by noon we had the dirt removed from the original grave. The rain had caused the cheap casket to saturate with water and the thin pressed wood and the plastic sheeting cover began to separate during the lifting. I prayed to Jesus that I would not have to see inside that coffin. He, at least, answered that one. Although the coffin was in disarray and deformed by the time, we lay Granny to rest in her proper place, it stayed in one piece and the parts that separated only showed linen fabric. We filled the new grave and leveled the dirt around it and then filled in the original grave.”

“My friends asked me if I was okay and I told them I was going to stay there a little longer. I thanked them from the bottom of my heart for the deed they had done to help me. I tried talking to Granny. I tried to make myself cry. I wanted to feel grief and mourn for the lady that I loved so much. Still, it wouldn’t come.”

“As I walked back to my truck, it occurred to me what I needed to do. I drove straight to the reverends parsonage and asked him to come with me.”

“Princess; our preacher at that time was an elderly man that should have retired years earlier. He was a great man of faith that my family and I loved dearly and he loved us. He came with me back to Granny’s gravesite.”

“This old preacher and me held a small funeral service for one of the gentlest and most refined southern ladies that ever walked on God’s green earth. When the service was concluded, we bowed our heads and prayed. I felt Jesus let go of my heart. He knew ahead of time what was going to happen and he propped me up for over a week so grief and sorrow couldn’t get in the way of my duty.”

“What happened next, Papaw?” she asked.

“All alone on a hill full of old and new gravestones, an old man of faith pulled a young man of faith to his chest. The old parson let me cry until the sorrow and grief passed.”

“That, my baby, is how I know that Jesus is real.” I told her.

“I love you, Papaw,” she whispered and hugged an old, proud and stiff-necked man of faith.

Inside the shaded darkness of the mausoleum that I built for my beautiful wife’s burial; I felt her presence. She guided the small arms of an innocent child. 

A simple hug rolled away the stone that had kept my heart in darkness since her passing ten months ago. 

When the hug was over, I finally understood why I had to remain in the land of the living for a while longer.

I walked to my beloved’s marker, kissed my fingers and laid them gently on the engraved marble.

My granddaughter and I walked out, hand in hand.

I felt the warmth of the sun on my face.