6. The Funeral
Sweat plastered Abigail’s face as her new mother rocked her slowly against her body. Fear coursed through her newly small body. Her mind struggled to adjust to its new home.
“Sh. Sh. Sh. It’s okay. You were just having a nightmare.” Sarah stroked the wet, matted hair from Abigail’s face. The desire to pull away from this near-stranger waged a war against the logic that her brain screamed.
This is my new mom. I am not a sixty-nine-year old woman. I am a child. I am Abigail.
Her thoughts betrayed her, and a new droplet of sweat trickled down her face, a face which was no longer rough to the touch, no longer familiar. She was a stranger in her own body, in her new life.
“Child, you are positively soaked. Let me fetch some fresh linens and another sleeping dress.” Sarah rose from the bed and left Abigail alone with her thoughts. Her mind was the only familiar place and she still felt as though she might be losing that.
She looked around her small room, knowing it was a luxury for a child to have their own room. She scoffed at the ridiculousness of it.
When I was a child, my father and I had a one-room cabin. Even Lizzie had to sleep in the living area, she thought, as her small body convulsed, as it fought against the past memories of her own childhood as Jane.
Her old, wrinkled face came to mind as she remembered the piercing cry and panic-stricken eyes through the small window. Her stomach churned, and she quickly leaned over the edge of the bed as her stomach’s contents forced their way out of her and onto the wooden floor.
“Oh Abigail! You poor thing!” Sarah darted back into the room, her arms full of an array of fabric.
She had a pitcher of water in one hand, tucked precariously under the pile.
After unloading her arms, she went to work wetting some of the linen in cool water and placing it across Abigail’s forehead.
Once the floor was cleaned up, she resumed her post of cradling Abigail.
“What happens when we die?” Abigail spoke softly against her new mother’s chest.
“My dearest, you aren’t going to die. It is just a simple upset stomach from dinner.”
Abigail pushed away from Sarah. Even in the dark of night could make out the lines of her aged face.
“I saw Jane, I mean, Mrs. Abernathy, through the window, before she, you know — ” Abigail gulped, unable to finish saying the words. She died. Her mind filled in the blanks.
“Oh.” Sarah’s shoulders sank slightly, and she pulled Abigail close again. She was thankful for the comfort. The sweat lingered on her skin, and the cool night air sent a chill down to her bones.
“As we have learned in church, we go to a place called Heaven. Mrs. Abernathy was old and sick, and it was her time to go home.” Abigail tensed at the word. Home. How she longed to go back and hold Lizzie again, the way Sarah held her now, to lie in her own bed, in her own home.
The pair cuddled in the dark in silence, and Abigail allowed her body to relax. The physical side of her remembered Sarah’s comforting embrace. Her mind, however, reminded her that she didn’t really have a mother.
This could be my chance to truly experience a mother’s love. Maybe this was the point of the gift, to give back to me what was taken when I was born and lost my own mother.
“Thanks, Mama.” Abigail yawned and Sarah skirted away from her. The soft pink quilt was tucked up under her chin and a light kiss was planted on her sticky forehead.
“Love you, my girl. I will see you in the morning. If you wake up feeling ill, come and get me.”
“Okay, Mama.” Another yawn escaped, and soon, Abigail was alone in the dark.
Yesterday I was Jane, and then I became Abigail. I don’t know how it happened, or why. But this is my new life, and there is no going back now.
Abigail stayed quiet as her mother washed her skin and dressed her in a fresh clean outfit. Her brown hair was meticulously combed and tied neatly with ribbons. Well as neat as they could be from her naturally frizzy hair.
The black fabric was itchy against her skin and the hem line was rough as it hit her knees when she walked. Most of her physical ailments abated as her mind and body became in sync with each other.
“Gerry, are you ready? We need to leave.” Sarah turned her focus from Abigail's unruly hair to the status of her new father.
“Do I need to come dress you as well?” Sarah gave Abigail a quick wink before disappearing through the doorway.
Abigail tried to smile back, but she felt empty.
Feeling emotions was different in her new body. They felt foreign and distant.
The only comfort she felt was that she would at least get to see Lizzie and Sarah, since Sarah was now her best friend rather than her granddaughter.
“At least I can stay in their lives and remain close to them,” she whispered as she checked herself over in the oval mirror. “This is going to take some getting used to.”
“What was that, dearest?” Abigail’s mother entered the room and mindlessly picked her black hat up from the bed.
Abigail startled at the sudden appearance. “Oh, uh, just talking about this dress. It’s itchy.”
“Well, try not to fidget, and be well behaved. I don’t want to see you mucking about with your friends during the ceremony. Now, let’s go meet your father downstairs. We are almost running late.” Sarah held out her hand, and Abigail took it into her own.
The sun produced a colorful display of light in the small room of the church. Mourners from the farming community gathered to celebrate the long life of Jane Abernathy-Hoffman. Abigail stood awkwardly in the back as Sarah embraced a weeping Lizzie.
“Lizzie, your mother was a great woman who loved you and Sarah so much.” Abigail’s new mother wiped Lizzie’s face with her handkerchief. She wanted so badly to hold Lizzie and comfort her the way she had for so many years.
I’m here! I’m right here, my sweet girl!
Her heart ached watching her grown daughter hurt.
As she watched Lizzie mourn, she couldn’t help but notice just how beautiful she looked.
In her old body, it was easy to see all of her daughter’s faults and nag at her to correct each of them.
How many conversations did I waste focusing on her aging face and round tummy?
She’s incredible. If I could go back, I would talk to her more about her interests.
Abigail, overcome with guilt for the many backhanded comments, closed the distance to Lizzie and wrapped her small arms around her tall legs. Her face nuzzled against her thighs. The black dress she wore was soft and inviting, unlike the scratchy dress she adorned.
“Oh, sweet girl, thank you for the hug. Why don’t you go give little Sarah a hug?
I know she could use some extra attention today.
” Lizzie stroked Abigail’s hair. It reminded her of how she used to do with Lizzie in her past life.
Her smile, while warm, didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Instead, they communicated a deep grief over the loss of her mother.
Abigail’s stomach tightened as she turned away to find Sarah. Relief flooded her as she edged further away from the suffocating sorrow that radiated off Lizzie. It was quite difficult to navigate through the crowd of adults as a young child.
Funeral attendees ambled around inside the church to find their seats in the pews. Abigail had no luck finding Sarah in the main chapel area. She remembered there was a small alcove where people had brought food and drinks for after the service.
The room was bathed in a bright light as the far wall was void of stained glass and overlooked the cemetery. She gulped as she looked away, unable to come to terms with the fact that just yesterday she’d narrowly avoided being buried just beyond the window.
Her nose was assaulted by the mixture of different smells, and she wasn’t sure if it smelled good or would cause her stomach to turn over.
She turned to leave since Sarah was nowhere nearby, but then something caught her attention.
Below one of the food tables, two small feet poked out just beyond the end of the tablecloth.
Sarah let out a muted sniffle, and Abigail felt her eyes burn with sympathy for her granddaughter. Former granddaughter, she corrected herself before the tears fell freely.
She bent down, lifted the tablecloth, and found Sarah sitting with her arms wrapped around her knees. Her normally sparkly eyes were rimmed with red and she had tear stains on her rosy cheeks.
“Want company?” Abigail didn’t wait for a response before scooting in next to her and crossing her legs. The two girls sat together in silence, both grieving, but each grieving a different loss.
“I just miss her so much,” Sarah managed to squeeze out before the sobs caught in her throat. Abigail wrapped her arm around Sarah’s waist.
“I know.” Abigail chose her words carefully. I’m right here and now we can be best friends! A new hope bloomed inside Abigail. I get to stay in Lizzie and Sarah’s lives. They won’t know it’s me, but I will still get to love and enjoy them.
“She could be grumpy sometimes, and she always made me fix my posture, but she was my grandmother, and I love her.” Sarah wiped her nose on the back of her hand. Abigail bit her tongue and stopped herself from chastising Sarah for the disgusting habit.
“I’m sure you are going to miss giving her butterfly kisses every night before bed.” Abigail fought hard to change her mind to something other than Sarah’s impromptu handkerchief.
“Yeah.” Sarah gave a small chuckle laced with a sob. “I never missed a night.”
Abigail smiled for the both of them. I am going to miss those butterfly kisses, my dear child.
Sarah stiffened slightly and she peered over at Abigail with wet lashes. “Wait. I never told anyone about our butterfly kisses. How did you know that?”