chapter 28
Decca
I trudged up the final steps of the grand staircase. I’d only been upstairs in this house once, on the night of Gus’s graduation party, when I’d snuck into his room to get away from the noise. It was oddly quiet today.
I turned the corner to see Jim with his feet kicked up, buried in a puffy recliner, watching TV, a can of beer beside him.
“How are you feeling, Jim?
“A lot better, since I stopped taking those pills.”
“That’s great.”
“Have a seat, kiddo. I want to talk to you.”
This couldn’t be good.I sat in the other recliner and tucked my feet under me.
“Gus seems happier lately. You two getting along alright? He treating you good?”
“I think so. I hope I’m treating him well, too.”
“Mmm.” He chuckled. “I can’t imagine he has any complaints.”
We were quiet for a while as we both focused on the muted spaghetti western playing on the TV.
“There’s a kind of irony, a funeral director dying on an upper floor,” he said, “knowing his son will have to carry his body down the extra steps.”
It sounded like he thought his death was imminent, but I only noticed the robustness in his voice. His lungs had plenty of support for breath. He was still up and about, and not confined to his hospital bed, though I knew they’d delivered one.
“The rest of my life will exist on this floor.” He continued. “There’s a comfort in knowing that.”
That wasn’t true. I’d heard similar thoughts expressed by others who’d passed in my company. But Jim wasn’t ready to pass. He could come and go as he pleased. He could make it downstairs if he wanted.
“Jim?
“I want to hire you to do your thing… be my death doula.”
I chuckled, more with relief than anything.
I wanted to be death positive. I really did. Denial helped no one. But this was entirely too premature. I’d sat beside enough dying people to know we weren’t at this step in the process. He might have decided to stop curative treatment, but some people lived years on hospice.
He wasn’t ready for this conversation.
Whatever. If he wanted to do this now, so be it.
“Alright Jim. I’ll bite. What do you want us to do?” I humored him. “Let’s create a ritual.”
“Ritual?”
“An action we take, or a sense we evoke. Something we do immediately following the last breath.”
“My last breath?”
“Yes. We can play a favorite song, or sing one, we could light a candle beforehand, and extinguish it.”
“At the moment of my death?”
“If that’s what you and your family decide.”
Jim smiled at me. “You’re my family, sweetheart. Don’t exclude yourself. And don’t treat me like a regular client. I’m your father-in-law. I’m just as sad to be walking away from you as I am from Gus.”
My sinuses grew hot and tight. Tears pooled in my eyes.
Oh, God. How was I supposed to continue with this if he was already making me cry?
He rested his chin on his hand and stared thoughtfully at the TV.
“No. I don’t think we’ll have to do any of that. We work in deathcare. There are already rituals around the jobs we do. Jobs I’ve taught them. If they do what they know, that’ll be what gets them through.”
“That’s a beautiful way to look at it. This may be hard, but can you take some space and envision the minutes, the hours immediately after your passing… your death… however you want to refer to it… and tell me what you’d like to see?”
“I don’t have to think about it. Soula will call the time of death.” His eyes sparkled as he considered his daughter. “She’ll want that moment of certainty. To know the exact instant when I’m no longer here.”
Here in this body.
“Gus will say the right prayers. Chant the right chants. Bless my body.”
I nodded, unable to speak.
God, this was hard.
Jim covered my hand with his. I was unused to a father’s love, but I willed myself to accept it.
His hands didn’t have the look yet. The thinning, almost to nothing, and yellowing of the tissue. His nails were light and clear. His hand was dry, but still soft, with a decent amount of tensile strength left. We had time.
Iwas supposed to be the one comforting him. Not the other way around. I was supposed to be helping him welcome his non-impending death. Instead, he’d already made peace with it. He didn’t need me at all.
I took a deep breath and focused on the job. It might be a farce, planning his death at this early stage, but it would benefit us both by taking it seriously. I thought about the moment of his passing. How it would feel the moment he was no longer the heartbeat of this mortuary. It would be too much. For all of us. The sweet kind of sadness that could only come from leading a joy-filled life. I wished everyone could pass that way. Surrounded by love and acceptance.
Soula, Gus, George, Raynie—they’d hate it. They wouldn’t want to remember his death. They’d see it as a betrayal of the years they should have had with him. But Jim and I were doing important work, laying the foundation for what may be one of their most precious memories. One day, they’d take this moment out of a box and project it like a film reel. They’d see the togetherness, the choreography. They’d feel his spirit still with them—having only fallen asleep on this plane. They’d know how much they were loved.
I let the tears leak out, making no move to hide them or wipe them away.
“Now stop crying and listen to me. This is important and it’s something only you can do.”
“What is?”
“Holding this family—your family—together.“ He looked at me. “I don’t know what your reasons were for marrying my son, but we’re all better off with you. And everyone will need you after I’m gone.”
I swallowed down my tears, like he said, and I cleared my throat. “If I’d known you’d be such a good boost to my ego, I would’ve spent a lot more time here.”
He smiled, but it was less bright than before. “Alright, after I’m dead, and after all the crying and the sitting there with my body, it’ll be time to get to work. George will know what to do. There’s no sugar-coating it, his job will be the toughest. He’ll bear the brunt of the emotional work, and he’ll grit his teeth and make his shoulders go all rigid, and pretend he’s not affected. Make sure Bethany helps him with my body. Do not let him be alone in that room with me.” Jim’s voice cracked finally. The pain of leaving this impossible task to his beloved son was too great to pretend he could take this lightly.
“Don’t let Gus be alone, either, even if he says he’s okay—he won’t be. Sofia can take charge of Raynie. It’s no secret my wife’s a loose cannon under the best circumstances. She’ll be calmer if she thinks she has to look after her granddaughter. But Sofia’s smart enough to know who’s really in charge.”
I laughed, and a snot bubble formed in one of my nostrils. Jim chuckled with me after a while.
“Use whatever florist Bethany wants. Donations can be made to Sofia’s youth orchestra, but it’s already in the pre-need. You can suggest Yia-Yiá and Raynie make some food. I know they’ll want to cook for everyone. Sofia might want to help. It’ll be good for her to have a task. She’ll feel needed and grown. Make sure they sleep, though. Don’t let them stay up for nights at a time baking koulurakia to go with the coffee that people are only drinking to be polite.”
I leaned into Jim’s ideas. He wasn’t planning his funeral. He and Raynie had pre-planned the disposition of his body. I was here to plan his death, and it seemed he’d already pre-planned that as well. He’d been anticipating the small, slippery moments that were often the most difficult. It was easy to snap into gear when needed, but after that, when you were left alone in the corners of your grief, in solitude—that’s when it was most brutal.
“Soula?”
Jim’s eyes became glassy. He took a deep breath before swallowing thickly. The two of them had been the closest. Of the three kids, she was the most like him. He knew how much she needed him. Jim had a special bond with George and Gus—Bethany, too—but knowing he was leaving Soula hit him the hardest.
“She’ll be okay. She’ll be the most capable of handling my death. She compartmentalizes the best.”
His tears were too much. Maybe it wasn’t happening tomorrow, but soon enough, he’d be leaving everyone he loved. Everyone I loved. With all the deaths I’d experienced, none had been planned like this. It chilled me down to the bone.
“There’ll be a lot of people. We’ve buried a big chunk of this town, and they’ll want to pay their respects. Expect a big crowd, but don’t let them overwhelm you. Have a small luncheon thing—whatever they’re called—but don’t invite everyone. Just the family. Others can come to the services at the church, or the graveside.”
“Jim. What do you need? I’m here for you.”
“Can you find a way to make it easier to say goodbye to my children, knowing how much of their lives I’ll miss? My grandchildren? Sofia came into our lives late. I never got to see her as a little girl. Now, I won’t get to see her as a woman, either. What about Athena? She’s only a year old. I’ll miss her whole life. How many more babies will come along that I’ll never get to hold?
“I’ll never be ready. But… my body tells me I’m done. I can go willingly, or drag it out until I’m resented by everyone who loves me because they’ve had to care for this shell of a body for so long. I’ve seen that more times than I’d like. I’ve seen every type of death. It’s my turn now. I’d like a little bit of a say, even if it’s just letting go when the time is right.”
I nodded. His words might feel like a stab in the gut, but I’d support him. “Gus said the Orthodox belief about death is that it’s little more than sleep.” I told him. “The saints are still here with us. You’ll be here with us, Jim.”
“A nice thought.”
We were quiet for a little while. My eyes focused on a knot in the wood paneling next to TV. Deep in the burled mahogany was a shocked little face. Two surprised eyes and a gaping O for a mouth. One of those inconsequential details you remembered at odd times.
“Don’t you have those cards anymore?” he asked.
“My tarot cards? I think I have a deck with me.”
“I must be the only one in the family you haven’t used them on.” He folded his hands expectantly in his lap.
“I never knew you wanted a reading.”
“Never did. Not specifically. But I don’t want to be the odd man out.”
I bit back the pain in my throat. “Would you like to do that now?”
“Now or never,” he joked.
“Take a sip first. You should be hydrating. Even if it is beer.”
He nodded again and sipped from the can.
“What would you like to know? The cards work best if you ask questions.”
“Just tell me something good.”
I pulled out my cards. Held them out for Jim to touch. Then shuffled.
Tell me something good, Granny.
The first card flew out of the deck.
“Two of Pentacles. This is kind of a take the bad with the good situation. Highs and lows. Light and darkness.”
I shuffled again, asking for clarification and got the… five of pentacles? Okay. “So, this tells me, basically the lows indicate your death. Your family’s going to suffer a tremendous loss, Jim. I hope you know how much you mean to all of us.”
He nodded and I continued pulling cards, the deck itself wanting me to keep going.
“Temperance. That’s more about balance. Think… the scales of justice.”
“That about my drinking? I’ve spent a lifetime on call. Cancer or no cancer, now that I’m finally retired, I’m enjoying a beer or two every now and again without feeling guilty.”
“Hmm. I don’t think it’s about that. Did you know in Ancient Egyptian mythology, the heart provided a record of a person’s life? Every bad deed caused the heart to grow heavier, while good deeds made it lighter. After a Pharaoh’s death, the gods, Anubis and Thoth, would weigh his or her heart against a feather from the goddess of truth and justice, Ma’at. If the heart was any heavier than that feather, they wouldn’t be received into the afterlife.”
“Guess that doesn’t bode well for me, then.”
I stared into his thin, pale face, his cerulean eyes, his strong nose and wide mouth, really taking notice of all the physical qualities he’d passed down to his kids. His was a good face, but he was an even better person. “Jim, for you, I think a feather would upend the scales.”
“Five of Wands. I’m getting a power struggle. There’s stubborn resistance coming from somewhere.
“Um… I don’t quite know how to interpret this. Nine of Wands. More… resistance? More struggle? Does this ring true for you, Jim? I’m sorry, but I’m not seeing this for you. Maybe I need clarity. Maybe I’ve lost my touch.” I pulled out the little white book that came with the deck. I rarely needed it and only carried it for emergencies. I flipped through it, wondering what I’d missed.
“Have you read the cards for yourself lately? My energy’s not the only one in the room.”
I gasped. For someone who claimed to be nonmagical, Jim was incredibly perceptive. “You think this is about Gus and me?”
“He told me there’s a job waiting for you in Knoxville.”
I groaned. “I don’t want it. He’s the one who keeps pressuring me to take the meeting. I don’t even want to interview. Gus is my home now. No job will tear me away from my commitment.”
“He doesn’t want you to pass up this chance for him. He loves you.”
“I think I know that. He’s just scared to show it. There’s a lot at stake if we find out we’re incompatible now. He doesn’t want to risk it. I understand that. I understand him. Even when he frustrates me. You raised a good man, Jim.” I stood to leave and placed my hand over his. “Actually…” I smiled. “You raised three amazing human beings. Most of my best friends. I owe you so much.”
He covered my hand with his. “How about this…” he said. “You sneak me up another beer before Raynie sees you, and we call it square.”