A Double Funeral

I have no recollection whatsoever of making any funeral arrangements for Mac, that had all been taken care of before I got back to Bequia. I believe Father Adams and my mother took care of details such as the coffin and burial plot, and for that I was grateful. I DO recall moving about in a daze as people arrived from overseas, my siblings as well as Mac’s sisters and many family friends, bewildered by the waves of grief as well as anger that filled my waking moments. Yes, I was angry, and the anger added a hefty dose of guilt to my already overloaded emotions.

I gravitated numbly to the kitchen, my house was overflowing with people and I felt I needed to feed them. When not cooking I watered plants, knowing that it was now my job to keep them alive. More than once my mother took the hose gently from my hands, telling me not to worry about the gardens Mac had worked so hard to create, but I needed to keep busy, it helped if I concentrated on something other than the horrific accident that had taken the lives of three fine men. It all seemed so senseless, and I was scared, scared by the thought of raising my children and running the Pizzeria without Mac.

The morning of the funerals, I went to the ferry with my mother to collect the coffins from the Admiral, the sight of which made me break down and cry. Inside those wooden boxes were two people I would never see again, for there would be no viewing of what remained; the coffins had been nailed shut, their contents deemed too gruesome for anyone to see. The coffins weren’t the only cargo on board the ferry that day, a seemingly endless stream of people had made the trip to pay their last respects; government ministers, students and teachers from the Convent school, taxi drivers and many others clustered around us to offer heartfelt condolences. Many helping hands carried the coffins into the church, where they were placed in readiness for the funeral service. Father Busby would not be buried on Bequia, his remains had been sent to Grenada for cremation by his family.

Never having liked the colour black, I had nothing appropriate to wear to the funerals. I opted for a suit Mac had particularly admired, a light green skirt with matching jacket, and wore a black straw hat a thoughtful friend had loaned me. Vanessa and Rachel wore their school uniforms, a delegation from the Convent School had arrived in the same attire to show support and it seemed the right thing to do. My poor children, they had adored their father, and looked hollow-eyed and sorrowful as we left for the church.

A double funeral drew a double crowd, and as both Mac and Dad had been extremely popular the throng was massive. People lined the streets and filled the church yard, making a path for us as we approached. We made our way to the front of the church, where I was seated between Son Mitchell and my mother. I was not prepared for the scene around the coffins; several women beat on them and screamed that they be opened, they wanted to see the dead. I shuddered, and could feel my mother recoiling in horror at the spectacle; the bodies had been charred beyond recognition in the  crash and were not suitable for viewing.

The funeral service was long. The new Bishop of the Windward Islands was there as well as several Anglican ministers from the Diocese, even Bequia’s Catholic priest participated. The crowded church grew quite warm, and as I had not been eating much I began to feel dizzy. Son caught me before I fainted and lowered me to the pew, and sat with his arm around me for the duration of the ordeal.

Dad was buried in the church yard close to the bell tower, a place of honour for a clergyman who had done so much for Bequia. We then proceeded to the graveyard, where Mac was laid to rest in a plot not far from his mother’s. I watched in amazement at the flowers being placed on the burial mound, they just kept coming! Everyone knew Mac had loved gardening, and the floral offerings were a touching tribute to that love.

I remember thinking that Mac, who was notoriously late for EVERYTHING, had been on time for his funeral. What a weird thought to have beside the grave!