I was twelve
when I saw my first dead body
It was my grandmother
lying in a room
with bad green wallpaper
and seven steel folding chairs
facing the casket
on an opposite wall
Grandpa went to her first
beside himself
surrounded by family
yet utterly alone
He looked down into the box
and stared
“This is not her,” he said
The small, uncommonly strong man
from Kansas did not see his wife
in this corpse
She had been an austere
old Swede
a gracious woman
in life
she could shame you
and shower you with
audacious love within
the same moment
She had no time for makeup
or expensive clothes
had lived through many wars
raised three children
worked to the bone
and humbly accepted
the lot given her
by the Lord
I stepped closer
Timidly touched her cold hand
Then I saw it
The well-intentioned
mortician had applied
a fire engine red lipstick
to those reserved Scandinavian lips
Heavy eye shadow
and eye liner
to the flinty eyes
He had caked her face
in some sort of orangeish base
and done her hair in the latest style
She looked much like a 1984
Elizabeth Taylor Cleopatra
to Richard Burton’s Marc Antony
My grandfather was right
it was not her
For a few moments
no one knew quite
what to say
until my grieving mother
began to chuckle
“Oh, she would not have liked this,”
she said
We eventually got someone in there
and they wheeled her out
as we sat in the cold steel chairs
cold as her dead hand
Minus the
Royal Purple
nail polish
They had to take my grandmother back
This time
they also took
a photograph
and the
right shade
of
lipstick
I swear
I heard her
laughing
all the way
down the hall
and into
the make-up
room
_____________________________________________________
For David, Julie, Lauren, Megan, Saundra and Joel.
11 responses ↓
1 jancartier | 31 Dec 2007
Excellent!Just lost a great grandmother. The funeral is wed. Needed this…she would have laughed too.
Bravo.
2 David Zemens [1955 Design] | 31 Dec 2007
You did hear your grandmother laughing, Robert.
Nothing, not even death, robs us of our memories. The mind still remembers, still hears, still smells, still tastes.
You did hear her.
3 candice | 31 Dec 2007
They use Max Factor on the dead, so I hear. College friend of mine worked summers at a funeral home for a while, as a driver mostly, but occasionally helped with makeup.
“You can only go to Mass so many times in a week…”
4 Brian Clark | 31 Dec 2007
Beautiful, Robert.
Don’t ever stop doing this.
5 Robert Bruce | 1 Jan 2008
Jan - My condolences, much hope for a beautiful memorial.
Zemens - You’re right man. At the risk of doing away with all sanity, I’m sure it was her laugh. And maybe a tsk tsk from her tongue for good measure.
candice - How did I know you’d have some seriously cool fact like that? Wonder if it’s the industry standard? And nice quote from him… agreed.
Clark - Thank you brother. Lord willing, I will not. Well, maybe until the stroke or the arthritis…
6 b | 1 Jan 2008
as usual Gwa, absolute garbage
7 Robert Bruce | 2 Jan 2008
b - That’s OK, I’m sure you’ll get over yourself eventually.
8 James Shaw | 2 Jan 2008
It’s true, those short moments with the dead stay with us forever. Your writing continues to amaze me. Is it as spontaneous and natural as it seems, or do you play with the words for hours? Regardless, another favorite.
9 Robert Bruce | 2 Jan 2008
James - Thanks much brother.
As to the words, I like to throw them in a frying pan and keep the ones that don’t jump… they seem to be the toughest to me.
10 potterspoet | 3 Jan 2008
very nice.
my grandmother is currently dying of lung cancer. we’re building up memories. i’m just trying to imagine her with purple nail polish and bright red lipstick. what an image.
11 Robert Bruce | 3 Jan 2008
Sorry to hear about your grandmother pp. I hope she goes out peacefully.
Yeah, quite an image…
Have Your Say...