Sydney looked out the front window and watched as Don drove away. Sara
walked over to her and told her not to worry, everything would be OK.
Sydney sat on the couch and told her aunt that she really appreciated all that she had told her. "I don't think my father ever could have done it," she told her.
Sydney felt that it was now time to find out about her grandmother. "Will you tell me how his mother died?" she asked.
Sara sat in the easy chair, across from Sydney. "When Sean died, Rebecca stayed in her room until the funeral. We were so concerned about how she would hold up. We were sure that she would have a breakdown."
"But, she didn't?" Sydney deduced.
Sara shook her head and said, "No, just the opposite. She was extremely composed. She never cried.
She even comforted Sean's friends. Everyone came back to the house after the burial and she was the perfect hostess. Sean would have been proud of her."
Then recalling what her grandfather had told her, Sydney said, "But, my dad stayed away, all day?"
"Yes, he did," Sara confirmed. "After most of the people had left, I sent my Alec to go and bring him home."
"After the funeral," Sara continued, "Rebecca was a new woman. She was the way she was when she was young. She was energetic and happy." Sara paused after this description of Rebecca and then added, "But, there was one thing that wasn't right."
Sydney waited patiently for her Aunt to tell what 'wasn't right'. "Whenever she mentioned Sean, she always spoke about him in the present tense. I think that in her mind, he wasn't dead. That was how she was able to function, for as long as she did."
"And how long was that?" Sydney asked.
"A little more than two months," Sara said, as she sat back in her chair and placed her arms on the armrests. "It was November 21, 1962. The day before Thanksgiving. Rebecca wanted to cook the Thanksgiving dinner that year. I had been to the grocery store, doing some last minute shopping.
When I was done I went over to see if she needed help with anything."
Sara again paused as she recalled the details of that day. Sydney waited anxiously for her to
continued. "When I walked into the kitchen I saw her with her head on the table. It was only a few seconds before I saw the blood dripping onto the floor."
Sara could tell that Sydney wasn't sure what happened. "She sliced her wrists."
"Oh, no." Sydney cried out.
"She died the next day," Sara said sadly.
Sydney let out a soft gasp when she realized her grandmother had died on Thanksgiving Day. "No wonder Dad dreads holidays," she said and then asked, "What happened to send her over the edge?"
Sara played with a frayed edge of her armrest. "In the mail that day, there was a letter from Sean."
Then allowing some of her old anger to resurface, she said, "The Army never did give an explanation of what took two months for that letter to be delivered."
Sara calmed down and continued. "The letter was sitting on the kitchen table, unopened. We figured it brought her back to reality. She had been slicing a ham. She used the knife to cut her wrists."
Even though she could guess the answer to her next question, Sydney asked it anyway. "How did my dad handle all of that?"
"Just like with Sean,he refused to go to the funeral. Only this time Don caught him and forced him to go." Sara shook her head slowly as she recalled the argument they had. "He gave him a lecture on responsibility and told him that he was not going to disgrace his mother's memory like he had with Sean."
"So he went to the funeral?" Sydney asked.
"He went. He sat though the service without giving even the hint of an emotion. After the burial everyone came back to the house for the reception. Johnny sat on the couch and wouldn't talk to anyone." Sara let out a little laugh. "That boy had an annoying habit of clamming up. If he didn't want to talk to you there was nothing you could do to make him."
That was something Sydney knew all too well.
"After everyone left, Johnny continued to sit on the couch." Sara shook her head as she recalled her frustration at how stubborn Jack had been as a child. "We knew what he was doing. He was not going to get up until his father told him he could."
She also had her fair share of frustrating moments with her brother. "Don was just as stubborn as Johnny was. He insisted he never told him that he had to sit there, so why should he have to give his permission for him to get up? After about an hour I talked him into telling him that he could leave. Johnny went straight to his room and closed the door. After the funeral he never talked about Rebecca again."
Carolyn, who had come into the room half way through the story said that what she remembered about her aunt's death was that Jack had said it was it was his fault. "It was strange, the look he had when he told us that. If you didn't know any better, you would have believed him."
Sara checked her watch. It was almost eight o'clock. Don had been gone for almost two hours. Sara hoped that that was an indication that the two men were talking.
Just then they heard the sound of a car door opening and closing. Sydney looked out the front window and saw her father and grandfather walking across the street to Sara's. She watched as they climbed the porch steps. One climbed slowly because of age and the other because of exhaustion.
Sydney met them at the door. "Dad, are you OK?"
"I'm fine," he said, as he sat down in the corner of the couch.
Sydney sat on the couch and told her aunt that she really appreciated all that she had told her. "I don't think my father ever could have done it," she told her.
Sydney felt that it was now time to find out about her grandmother. "Will you tell me how his mother died?" she asked.
Sara sat in the easy chair, across from Sydney. "When Sean died, Rebecca stayed in her room until the funeral. We were so concerned about how she would hold up. We were sure that she would have a breakdown."
"But, she didn't?" Sydney deduced.
Sara shook her head and said, "No, just the opposite. She was extremely composed. She never cried.
She even comforted Sean's friends. Everyone came back to the house after the burial and she was the perfect hostess. Sean would have been proud of her."
Then recalling what her grandfather had told her, Sydney said, "But, my dad stayed away, all day?"
"Yes, he did," Sara confirmed. "After most of the people had left, I sent my Alec to go and bring him home."
"After the funeral," Sara continued, "Rebecca was a new woman. She was the way she was when she was young. She was energetic and happy." Sara paused after this description of Rebecca and then added, "But, there was one thing that wasn't right."
Sydney waited patiently for her Aunt to tell what 'wasn't right'. "Whenever she mentioned Sean, she always spoke about him in the present tense. I think that in her mind, he wasn't dead. That was how she was able to function, for as long as she did."
"And how long was that?" Sydney asked.
"A little more than two months," Sara said, as she sat back in her chair and placed her arms on the armrests. "It was November 21, 1962. The day before Thanksgiving. Rebecca wanted to cook the Thanksgiving dinner that year. I had been to the grocery store, doing some last minute shopping.
When I was done I went over to see if she needed help with anything."
Sara again paused as she recalled the details of that day. Sydney waited anxiously for her to
continued. "When I walked into the kitchen I saw her with her head on the table. It was only a few seconds before I saw the blood dripping onto the floor."
Sara could tell that Sydney wasn't sure what happened. "She sliced her wrists."
"Oh, no." Sydney cried out.
"She died the next day," Sara said sadly.
Sydney let out a soft gasp when she realized her grandmother had died on Thanksgiving Day. "No wonder Dad dreads holidays," she said and then asked, "What happened to send her over the edge?"
Sara played with a frayed edge of her armrest. "In the mail that day, there was a letter from Sean."
Then allowing some of her old anger to resurface, she said, "The Army never did give an explanation of what took two months for that letter to be delivered."
Sara calmed down and continued. "The letter was sitting on the kitchen table, unopened. We figured it brought her back to reality. She had been slicing a ham. She used the knife to cut her wrists."
Even though she could guess the answer to her next question, Sydney asked it anyway. "How did my dad handle all of that?"
"Just like with Sean,he refused to go to the funeral. Only this time Don caught him and forced him to go." Sara shook her head slowly as she recalled the argument they had. "He gave him a lecture on responsibility and told him that he was not going to disgrace his mother's memory like he had with Sean."
"So he went to the funeral?" Sydney asked.
"He went. He sat though the service without giving even the hint of an emotion. After the burial everyone came back to the house for the reception. Johnny sat on the couch and wouldn't talk to anyone." Sara let out a little laugh. "That boy had an annoying habit of clamming up. If he didn't want to talk to you there was nothing you could do to make him."
That was something Sydney knew all too well.
"After everyone left, Johnny continued to sit on the couch." Sara shook her head as she recalled her frustration at how stubborn Jack had been as a child. "We knew what he was doing. He was not going to get up until his father told him he could."
She also had her fair share of frustrating moments with her brother. "Don was just as stubborn as Johnny was. He insisted he never told him that he had to sit there, so why should he have to give his permission for him to get up? After about an hour I talked him into telling him that he could leave. Johnny went straight to his room and closed the door. After the funeral he never talked about Rebecca again."
Carolyn, who had come into the room half way through the story said that what she remembered about her aunt's death was that Jack had said it was it was his fault. "It was strange, the look he had when he told us that. If you didn't know any better, you would have believed him."
Sara checked her watch. It was almost eight o'clock. Don had been gone for almost two hours. Sara hoped that that was an indication that the two men were talking.
Just then they heard the sound of a car door opening and closing. Sydney looked out the front window and saw her father and grandfather walking across the street to Sara's. She watched as they climbed the porch steps. One climbed slowly because of age and the other because of exhaustion.
Sydney met them at the door. "Dad, are you OK?"
"I'm fine," he said, as he sat down in the corner of the couch.