"Respect"
By: SilverAries
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters and I'm not making money off this story, etc.
It had been the saddest day of my life back then, the day of Tom Robinson's funeral. Atticus made us come with him, Jem and me; even Aunt Alexandra was coming. She didn't want to go, of course; she kept on saying we had nothing to do with Negroes; therefore we had no reason to go to one of their funerals. Atticus put his foot down for once though, and that's how the four of us found ourselves in the same little church, the First Purchase African M.E. Church, that Calpurnia had brought us to when Jem and I had gone with her.
I should have known it'd be a bad day when I woke up that August morning. The mood at the church echoed the dreary weather that God had given us that day. The church was full, but besides us, Dolphus Raymond and Mr. Link Deas were the only other white men there. I could see all of Dolphus Raymond's family from here; his wife was standing beside him, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. I could also see the mixed children Jem had told me about. They were not as dark as their mother, yet not even near as pale as Mr. Raymond. They were the queerest looking children I had ever seen, but they were obviously well taken care of, judging by their neat and clean appearance.
Reverend Sykes was sitting at a pew in the front of the church, comforting a woman that I assumed was Helen Robinson. Her children surrounded her, all in their best clothes. The Reverend stood as Atticus, Aunt Alexandra, Jem and I entered the church. He nodded and smiled slightly to us before going to stand behind the pulpit. The congregation settled as he gave greetings and led us in a prayer.
I didn't really pay attention to the funeral procession until Atticus got up. I looked up at him questioningly but he refused to look at any of us as he walked up to the pulpit.
"I was asked to say a few words here today. I've had to deliver one eulogy before and had hoped never have to do another." Atticus wiped his face with his handkerchief before continuing. "I didn't know Tom Robinson for long, but in the time spent with him, I had the pleasure of meeting one of the finest men I have ever known."
I wondered why Atticus had not told us he was speaking at the funeral and by Aunt Alexandra's apparent surprise, I could tell he had not mentioned it to her either.
"Tom Robinson showed great compassion for all human beings. He loved his wife and kids, and was faithful to them until the end. Tom was willing to help anyone, black or white, educated or not, and asked for nothing in return. Tom was also an active member of this church. He believed in God's values and teachings; implementing them in his everyday life."
"Tom was also an honest man. He worked hard for Mr. Link Deas in order to support his family," at this statement, Atticus nodded to the man in question sitting quietly in the back of the church. Link Deas looked up at Atticus and smiled shakily.
"But nothing I say here can alleviate the grief many of you are feeling, nor can I truly express Tom's life in a way that does him justice. Tom did not deserve to die, but he did, like many innocents in this world have. He was stereotyped as an untrustworthy, foolish man with no thoughts or aspirations for the future, but in truth Tom was nothing of the sort. He was honest; he loved, but Tom was the unfortunate victim of prejudice. Tom's death will hopefully result in a heightened awareness of society's ills, so that this never has to happen again. Tom would want his death to be meaningful, just as his presence in all our lives was; we will always remember him."
Atticus came back to sit with us. He didn't talk again until we were back at the house, but I remember that was the first time I had ever seen Atticus cry in public. He found me later that night, in my room, crying. He held me in his arms like when I was little and waited quietly until I was able to talk coherently again.
"Why did you make us go to the funeral?" I asked Atticus, tears still streaming down my face. Atticus smiled down at me, his eye sad.
"All Tom Robinson ever wanted in his life was respect," Atticus said quietly, "At least, we were able to give him that much."
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters and I'm not making money off this story, etc.
It had been the saddest day of my life back then, the day of Tom Robinson's funeral. Atticus made us come with him, Jem and me; even Aunt Alexandra was coming. She didn't want to go, of course; she kept on saying we had nothing to do with Negroes; therefore we had no reason to go to one of their funerals. Atticus put his foot down for once though, and that's how the four of us found ourselves in the same little church, the First Purchase African M.E. Church, that Calpurnia had brought us to when Jem and I had gone with her.
I should have known it'd be a bad day when I woke up that August morning. The mood at the church echoed the dreary weather that God had given us that day. The church was full, but besides us, Dolphus Raymond and Mr. Link Deas were the only other white men there. I could see all of Dolphus Raymond's family from here; his wife was standing beside him, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. I could also see the mixed children Jem had told me about. They were not as dark as their mother, yet not even near as pale as Mr. Raymond. They were the queerest looking children I had ever seen, but they were obviously well taken care of, judging by their neat and clean appearance.
Reverend Sykes was sitting at a pew in the front of the church, comforting a woman that I assumed was Helen Robinson. Her children surrounded her, all in their best clothes. The Reverend stood as Atticus, Aunt Alexandra, Jem and I entered the church. He nodded and smiled slightly to us before going to stand behind the pulpit. The congregation settled as he gave greetings and led us in a prayer.
I didn't really pay attention to the funeral procession until Atticus got up. I looked up at him questioningly but he refused to look at any of us as he walked up to the pulpit.
"I was asked to say a few words here today. I've had to deliver one eulogy before and had hoped never have to do another." Atticus wiped his face with his handkerchief before continuing. "I didn't know Tom Robinson for long, but in the time spent with him, I had the pleasure of meeting one of the finest men I have ever known."
I wondered why Atticus had not told us he was speaking at the funeral and by Aunt Alexandra's apparent surprise, I could tell he had not mentioned it to her either.
"Tom Robinson showed great compassion for all human beings. He loved his wife and kids, and was faithful to them until the end. Tom was willing to help anyone, black or white, educated or not, and asked for nothing in return. Tom was also an active member of this church. He believed in God's values and teachings; implementing them in his everyday life."
"Tom was also an honest man. He worked hard for Mr. Link Deas in order to support his family," at this statement, Atticus nodded to the man in question sitting quietly in the back of the church. Link Deas looked up at Atticus and smiled shakily.
"But nothing I say here can alleviate the grief many of you are feeling, nor can I truly express Tom's life in a way that does him justice. Tom did not deserve to die, but he did, like many innocents in this world have. He was stereotyped as an untrustworthy, foolish man with no thoughts or aspirations for the future, but in truth Tom was nothing of the sort. He was honest; he loved, but Tom was the unfortunate victim of prejudice. Tom's death will hopefully result in a heightened awareness of society's ills, so that this never has to happen again. Tom would want his death to be meaningful, just as his presence in all our lives was; we will always remember him."
Atticus came back to sit with us. He didn't talk again until we were back at the house, but I remember that was the first time I had ever seen Atticus cry in public. He found me later that night, in my room, crying. He held me in his arms like when I was little and waited quietly until I was able to talk coherently again.
"Why did you make us go to the funeral?" I asked Atticus, tears still streaming down my face. Atticus smiled down at me, his eye sad.
"All Tom Robinson ever wanted in his life was respect," Atticus said quietly, "At least, we were able to give him that much."