No amount of spaghetti would ever fill it. It’s ready if you would like some.” Patrick thought of the awful void inside him. “Justine wanted spaghetti,” Patrick’s sister was saying to him. He couldn’t remember talking to people, though he was sure he must have said something in response to their endless words of sorrow and support. Justine sat beside him and chattered about the service and the other people who were there. The ride home was lost in the fog of grief that threatened to overwhelm Patrick. He didn’t say anything, but opened the door for Justine and closed it behind Patrick.
The driver was leaning against the door waiting for them. They walked back to the limousine he’d rented, not certain of his ability to drive, not wanting to put anyone else at risk. She took the card and ran arrow straight back to Patrick. Patrick watched him kneel in the grass to talk to her. Remember that.” He patted Patrick’s shoulder and ambled off toward Justine. “I heard what you told Justine,” Reverend Daniel said, “about nothing loved ever being lost. Then he thought how ungracious he sounded. Patrick was sure he had twenty of them lying around the house. “If you need anything, just call.” The minister handed him yet another card. He envied them at the same time that he felt bereft of company. He heard the squeals of Justine and Molly playing. Let the clouds weep the tears that he couldn’t. The heavens should have opened and the whole world should be deluged. Patrick wanted to let the tears flow, but the traitorous weakness mocked him by keeping his eyes as dry as the dirt covering his wife and lover’s grave. She just nodded and a man in overalls quietly shovelled the dirt into the grave. “You can fill it in now,” he told the funeral director. He wanted to call her back and hold on to her and make sure that she was safe. “Say hi to God for me, Mommy.” Justine threw some dirt into the hole, then brushed her hands off. All he knew was that there was a jagged hole in his life that no amount of words were ever going to fill. It was a cop-out, but Ingrid had given an ironclad faith in the big guy to Justine. He felt a bitter acid in his stomach at the G word. “She can’t come home,” Patrick said, “She’s with God.” He could feel the weakness trying to claw its way out. Nothing we really love is ever lost.” Patrick had to take another breath and push back the tears. “Is she lost? Can we help her come home?” “No, Justine, that’s just what is left of her. “No.” Patrick had to stop and take a deep breath. “Is Mommy in that box?” Justine asked looking at him with her blue eyes. He was not going to cry in front of his daughter. He threw a handful of dirt in after it and the tears pricked at his eyes. There was a rustle as the people in the church all stood and Patrick saw the funeral director waiting for him and his daughter to lead everyone out of the church.Īt the cemetery they put the obscenely small box of his wife’s ashes in the hole. Lost, in spite of what Pastor Daniel was saying. He hadn’t been strong enough for Ingrid and now she was gone. Justine held his hand and leaned her head on his arm. He tried to look away from the box that held all that was left of Ingrid. “In First Peter, we hear the faithful told to be patient as God does not want anyone to be lost.” “No Father wants to lose a child,” the preacher said.