Her eyes flew open, infected with rage. "She is now," I reported, "My dad just threw water on her."
"Good. Is she able to talk?" the salesman asked.
"Who wants to know?" The salesman was a busy body.
"My name is officer Dukowski. I'm with the Alameda County, California Sheriff's department…"
"He's dead!" my mother shrieked from the floor. "He's dead! He's dead!" she repeated over and over.
"… I regret to inform you of the passing of a Mr. Stanley Alison," the voice droned.
"Give me the phone," my father yanked it from my grip. A tingle erupted in my temples and flowed like lava down my neck and back. The kitchen darkened around me, a warm trickle flowed down my leg. In another world I heard my father tell my mother to calm down, "I can't hear over your wailing."
***
Gazing out the airplane's window at the darkened country below I worried how to stop my mother from doing 'the proper thing.' I turned my gaze to my sleeping mother. She looked innocent in her sleep. I couldn't understand how she could create such drama. Why couldn't she let Grandfather be? I looked back into the night, wishing I could keep her sedated.
My father, he's useless. "What can I do? It's her father," he said. Somewhere over the Rockies exhaustion overpowered my anxieties. I fell into a dreamless sleep. I woke as the plane touched down. Shuddering with the fuselage, I grabbed the armrests, white knuckling them until the plane came to a stop.
As we disembarked, through luggage claim, and renting a car, I studied my mother's swollen eyes and puffy face. How could this woman threaten grandfather's wishes? Diane's words filled my head, "Don't worry about a thing. If you need anything, call." Hugging me she whispered, "we're family."
We met the minister of the Shepherd of the Hills Non Denominational Church in his office. Floyd, as he insisted on being called, was a short, muscular man in his mid-thirties with a rapidly balding head and a big, toothy smile. He had a reputation for not mincing words, it attracted grandfather to Floyd's flock. "He's a feisty little fucker," my grandfather had said.
"I understand how you feel," Floyd leaned back in his chair. "You should reconsider viewing his remains. It would be a mistake - a terrible one."
"Thank you for your concern Reverend…"
"Floyd," he corrected with a smile.