Balance of Power Shifted (4 page)

With the phone to my ear, I heard the
three rings before I heard, “Mike, is that you?”  “Yes Mr. Filamore.  Is this a good time for us to speak?” I said.  “Yeah, I have actually been waiting for a call from you.  I cannot tell you how sorry I am for your loss…I know they meant the world to you and you to them.”  “Thank you,” I responded back, “I am already missing them badly.  Mr. Filamore, I have Mrs. Paschel and her daughter Fiona in the room and I would like them to listen in if you don’t mind?  They volunteered to help me with arrangements and so on.  “No problem Mike, I think that is an excellent idea,” I heard back.  “Please feel free to put us on speaker,” Julius added.

After brief introductions
, Julius read the instructions included in the will, which dealt with burial arrangements.  Thank God, my grandparents were so organized, I thought to myself.  They listed the funeral home to use, Father Zults the priest at St. Anne’s church that they preferred as well as coffin models and location of the cemetery plots.  They even included headstone inscriptions and charitable organizations for donation offered in lieu of flowers.  I was cleaning up the notes I captured, when Julius said, “Mike, I hope you understand that your grandparents made you the sole heir and executor for their estate.  I will go over what this means tomorrow if you can come into my office around one in the afternoon.  I will meet you there after church services.  You need to jump on the funeral arrangements as soon as possible so I thought it was important to at least pass this information along to you.”

The rest of the afternoon and well into the night
, everyone chipped in to help me make calls and to do the things on the list needing completion.  A few pizzas and a good amount of beer and wine helped smooth this effort along.  The funeral home arrangements came together quickly. Mr. Druey, the funeral director, was very good at his job and with the information that Julius gave me he had what he needed in about 20-minutes.  He would arrange to recover the bodies from the morgue and let me know whether an open casket was possible or not.  In the meantime, he asked me to collect clothes that I thought would be appropriate for burial as well as any mementos or jewelry for placement in the coffins.  He also recommended getting an obituary notice into the newspaper as soon as possible and included the viewing arrangements that we had agreed upon, which were this Wednesday from 7 pm until 9 pm.  He also suggested bringing any pictures that I wanted to show in order to depict their life together.  I gave him my email address so I could confirm our discussion and approve the itemized list of services.

Hanging up with Mr. Druey I asked if
Fiona and her mom if they minded figuring out the clothes problem, since I really had no idea what was expected.  In reality, the thought of selecting clothes that a dead person would wear into eternity really freaked me out more than I would admit to anyone.  I glanced over at Taylor and Kristen who were sitting at the kitchen table, shoulder to shoulder. Taylor having lived next door forever would be able to help pick out pictures that could represent Nana and Gramps life together.  A little sarcastically to myself, I thought, how can anyone’s impact on life or the people around them, be shown through a few fleeting snapshots.  Taylor and Kristen are a great couple and every time I see them, they just seemed to be so in tune with each other.  Kristen and I shared a little secret we never told anyone.  We had a few dates during high school at a time went Fiona and I were not together and Kristen had not yet met Taylor.  We had a lot of fun, fooled around some, until we both had realized that we had connected more on a friend level than in a boyfriend and girlfriend way.  In fact, I was the one that introduced Taylor to her during a pick-up basketball game, with friends from school, behind my garage.

“Hey Taylor”, I said.  “Can you and Krist
en help me out on something?”  They both said yes in unison and I asked them to follow me back to the office.  Once there I showed them a couple of shelves built into the wall that held quite a few photo albums.  “Guys, I’m not sure I am up to looking through these albums for pictures that I can put on display at the funeral home for the wake.  I am certain that I would start bawling like a baby if I had to.  Can you go through the albums and pull some pictures out?  Maybe start with their wedding, pictures with my mom, mom and dad and all three of us...  feel free to add others that give everyone an idea how special they were.”  Kristen came over and putting her arm around my shoulders said no problem Mike, we got this covered for you.  “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your being here.  Love you guys.”  I then headed out the door to the kitchen dreading my next task.

Mr. and Mrs.
Graham Marsh died on April 2 due to an automobile accident.  Graham Marsh (82) was a long time resident of Peapack and was the CEO of Marsh Company until he retired.  Mr. Marsh held numerous patents.  Margarite Nash (81), also a long time resident of Peapack, was active in numerous charity organizations and was a member of the Historical Society.  Their daughter, Celia Carter, and her husband Michael Carter Sr., predeceased Mr. and Mrs. Marsh.  Their grandson Michael Carter Jr. survives them.  A celebration of their life will be held at the Druely Funeral Home on Wednesday April 7, and a mass will be held on April 8, at St. Anne’s Church.

The mass time needed confirmation
however; I thought it looked amazingly good for a first draft.  Everyone looked at it and no one thought I should change a word.  Having taken care of the obit, Mrs. P got up and said it is 11 o’clock and I have to get home.    I stood up and gave her a heartfelt hug saying thank you repeatedly.  I looked at Fiona, who did not appear to be getting up, causing a slight grin from yours truly while hiding it from her mom.  I announced loudly to the remaining friends, that they were free to crash anywhere they wanted to.  Taylor and Kristen took this as their cue and Taylor said, “Rico we are going to head over to my house.”  Even though Taylor was my closet neighbor, they had driven over since there were a couple of acres that separated the homes.  I walked them and Fiona’s mom to the door and stood on the porch as they headed for their cars.  Mrs. P yelled out before getting into her Honda Ridgeline pickup to call if I needed anything.  With a wave from Kristen, Taylor and she took off in his classic BMW M3.

When I came
back into the kitchen, Fiona was in discussion with Steve and Sean.  I hadn’t had much time to hang out with these two tonight, but we were such close friends that it did not matter.  We could be in the same room for twelve hours and barely talk to each other.  Both these guys were your typical high school jocks and we had great times on the football field and wresting mats.  We had a shitload of trophies between us.  What most people never knew about them was that they were both extremely intelligent and finished at the top of their class.  Steve was my age, but Sean was year older, and was already out in the corporate world with his degree in Aerospace engineering and was working for a New York City based airline.  Steve was about to graduate Cornell University with a degree in molecular biology.  I had to be careful with these two, for years they were trying to get Fiona to date them even if we happened to be on again.

Fiona motioned to Sean and Steve and said they are going to crash
here since they had a couple to many cold ones.  Fiona grabbed a glass of Merlot and got me a Bass Ale as we sat down at the table and enjoyed the drinks with Steve and Sean while catching up on gossip.  Looking at the clock which approaching midnight, I said, “I need to take a shower and hit the sack.  This emotional crap can take a lot out of you.”  Putting my bottle down, I headed for the stairs.  Going into the bathroom, I flipped the lights on and turned the shower on to run the water to make it hot. Stripping down, I got into the shower and let the very hot water just rain down on my head and shoulders. 

I had to admit, I did not feel as alone as
I had felt this morning after hanging out with great people who I know cared about me.  All of a sudden, I felt even less alone as Fiona opened the door and stepped into the shower.  “Rico,” she said with a smile on her face, “you are going to have to make the water cooler if you want me to scrub your back.”  Turning fully towards her I instantly got excited while I took in how beautiful she was. Tall and slender with her long hair slowly getting darker as it got wet, she had a body that always seemed to be perfectly fitted to mine when we got together, which is what was going on right now as I stepped into her embrace.  My hands instantly found her perfect butt as her arms went around my neck and her soft lips found mine.  We stood there embracing for five full minutes as the water fell on our heads, oblivious to car accidents, funerals and everything else.  I had to back off my embrace at one point since I felt the she would break due to the force I was holding her.

Turning off the
shower, we both got out and dried off.  The whole time I just kept watching her, forcing her to nudge me and tell me to stop staring.  You really seem to have missed me she said as she reached down, grabbed hold of me, and led me to bed.  I don’t know if it was my emotional state or what, but love making that night was the slowest and most intimate I had ever known.

M
y internal clock woke me up around seven and I decided to head over to church and attend the 8 o’clock mass.  My parents and my grandparents had instilled in me the roots of my Catholic faith.  The term cradle to grave Catholic is appropriate for me, since I have never had any doubt about who I was in this regard.  I think what made me different, was that I actually enjoyed going to mass and the overall institution of what the church stands for.  Even on campus at Georgia Tech, I would always find some way to get to the Saturday evening or Sunday mass, much to the jokes of some of my fellow students and campus friends. 

After putzing around brushing my teeth and cleaning up, I tried to get my clothes without waking up Fiona.  I
was not quite successful and I heard her voice asking me what I was doing.  I said, “I’m going to mass and I hope to talk to one of the priests about confirming a funeral mass.”  Jokingly I said, “Do you want to come?”  Knowing the answer in advance, she just grunted and buried her head back into the pillow.  Fiona was also Catholic, but had a bit of a stubborn streak in her and resented being ‘preached at’ as she called it.  I think it really had to do with her state of mind on any given Sunday, which determined her attendance.

It took about five minutes to drive over to St.
Anne’s church.  Driving into the parking lot it appeared to be about half full, which was common for the 8 o’clock mass.  The 9:30 mass however was packed and usually had overflow parking onto the side streets.  I had been coming here since I was twelve and made my confirmation in front of the Bishop, which was about the time I realized that church was not just someplace I just showed up for on Sundays and holy days.  The church was what each person made of it.  From that point on, I joined the church youth groups and volunteered for causes such as ‘Feed the Hungry.’  In a way, the people of St. Anne’s became my extended family and brought to me a sense of community that I had not felt since my parents passed away.

I have been interested in
architecture for as long as I could remember.  I loved older homes and buildings, but loved churches most of all.  When I say churches, it is any church.  The vaulted ceilings, stained glass windows, and workmanship of marble and wood that went into the reverent creation of these places of worship.  St. Anne’s was no exception.  Built in the late 1800’s, it had walls made of local stone and a steeple bell tower.  Worshippers walked in through massive wooden doors reminiscent of a medieval castle.  As I walked in through these doors and took in the light streaming though the colored glass windows, a sense of peace came over me.  Walking down the center aisle, about two-thirds the way to the altar, I grabbed a seat in a high backed pew that must have been crafted when the church was built.  . The pews were not comfortable and towards the later part of mass, you noticed people shifting in their seats trying to get more comfortable and to get the blood flowing back into their posteriors.

After a few minutes
, we all stood while Father Tom Murphy and a cadre of altar boys processed from the rear of the church to the altar.  Father Tom has a reputation for saying the fastest mass in the parish and was in and out of his homily in about five minutes.  I have to say that even though it only lasted about five minutes it was very relevant.  The homily message addressed not judging people and look at others as Jesus would.  Not too long after, I was singing along with everyone else during the closing song.  This was about the only time I really sang since I blended in with all the other voices, due to my less than stellar voice.  Exiting the church past father Tom, I waited until he completed his ‘well wishing’ to the congregation as they filed past him.  When the last person was past, I walked up behind him and said, “Father, do you have a few minutes.”  Turning towards me, he said “Hello Mike, what can I do for you?”

Hesitating
some, I blurted out “Father, my grandparents died in a car accident Friday and I need to bury them.  Can you help me with the mass arrangements?”  I think he was somewhat shocked at I what I just told him, but he ended grabbling me by the back of the arm and said, “Come with me.”  We went to a little side building on the church grounds, which acted as the church office. 

Once inside he picked up a
book, which was the calendar for all the priests.  “Have you worked out any arrangements yet he said?” “I have the funeral home set for this Wednesday I said.”  Turning the book to Thursday, he looked up at me and said, “Will a Thursday 10 am funeral work for you?”  I thought about it briefly and said that would work well.  He then went on to explain that he was sorry that he would not be available to perform the ceremony but Father Zults or Father Rierdon is available.  I quickly told him Father Zults would be great. He nodded his head and made a couple of notations in the calendar.