Celebration of Life

LaReta’s (Lore) celebration of life was July 24, 2016. A multitude of family and friends were there, enjoying brilliant sunshine and a refreshing breeze on the deck that overlooks a valley to the east. It’s so relaxing. This is the place where Lore spent many mornings, hands clasped around a hot cup of coffee listening to the sound of birds. She loved her bird houses that hung from a tree which grows majestically in the center of her deck. When the weather didn’t allow, Lore would sit in her living room recliner and watch her feathered friends from there. 

Lore’s deck has seen many celebrations over the years, including a wedding (mine) and multiple birthday parties. It was a poignant moment when Nicolette, Lore’s daughter, noted this would be the last time for a family gathering on the deck. The house will soon be sold.

Along with other memories of Lore, spoken by loved ones, I was asked to read an excerpt from The Road to LaReta. I had practiced many times, but knew it would be difficult to get through without crying. I was right.
 

This is the scene from which I read: Webb saw very little of his daughter after her first year of life. She’s now three and a half years old. It’s two days after Dorothy’s funeral and Webb has to go back to Montana. He’s talking to LaReta on the back porch of a relative’s home.

Webb and LaReta sat on the back porch step. “Are you my Daddy Webb?” LaReta asked.

“Yes, I am.”

“Do you wiv in ‘Ontana?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Did I wiv there too?”

“You did. You and your mommy were there, not very long ago. You visited me last Summer. Do you remember that?”

LaReta looked long and hard at Webb. “Maybe,” she grinned, tilted her head to look at him and grabbed her knees to her chin.

“Reta, Blanche and I have to go back to Montana today cuz I have to go to work. But I’m planning for you to come live with me again real soon.”

“Can mommy come too?”

This was a conversation Webb wanted Laura to have with LaReta, not him. He wasn’t prepared, but there was the question… He looked across the back yard, paused and then turned to LaReta.

“Your mommy won’t be able to come with you, Reta. She got real sick. So sick that she … couldn’t come home from the hospital.”

LaReta looked at him wide-eyed. “She’s in the ho’pital? I want to go see her.”

“No, she’s not there anymore.”

“Where is she? I want to find her.”

Webb rubbed his forehead, stretched his legs out, pulled his pants at the knees to shake them toward his shoes, then took a deep breath, cleared his throat and asked, “When you were at Mrs. Bailey’s, did they have any animals, Reta?”

“Yup. Mommy rode Sweetheart to school every day. And they had a cow and pigs and some chickens. Some of the chickens got their heads chopped off for supper. Oh, and they had a kitty and a dog, too.” LaReta was proud of being able to name all the animals at the Bailey’s house. “I used to scare the kitty sometimes.” LaReta wrinkled her nose and tilted her head at Webb again. “Mrs Bailey didn’t like it when I did that, but it was funny.” LaReta giggled and then got serious again.

“But where’s mommy?” She was determined to get answers.

LaReta’s story about chickens getting their heads cut off for supper dissuaded Webb from continuing his explanation about death using farm animals as an example. Damn, I could do more harm than good with this talk. And it’s one I never intended to have!

He wasn’t sure if another tact would work or not, but decided to give it a try. From everything he’d been taught in Almont in the basement of the Lutheran Church, he believed it was true. At least for LaReta’s sake and his own, he wanted it to be true.

“Reta. Your mommy got so sick she went to Heaven to be with Jesus. She’s there now and someday, we’ll all be able to be with her. She can’t come live with us in Montana because she’s in that beautiful place called ‘Heaven’ where no one is sick and everyone is happy. She misses you, but knows you’ll be there with her one day too.”

LaReta looked at him with disbelief and then sadness. “Why didn’t I get to go with her to Heaben?” She started to cry.

Dear Lord, help me out here will you? Webb wrapped his arms around his daughter. “Sometimes, Reta, that’s just the way it is.”

Webb sat back and held LaReta at arm’s length. “Hey, want to drive the car again? I think we have time.”

Sniffling, she bobbed her head up and down. Webb picked her up and galloped to the Chevy. That brought back giggles and smiles.

The car eased down the driveway and then picked up a little speed. “Wookit me! Wookit me!” LaReta bounced up and down in Webb’s lap, her small hands stretched to the top of the big steering wheel. With one hand around LaReta’s waist, Webb’s other hand managed the steering wheel from the bottom as the old Chevy snaked it’s way slowly down the road. His arms and heart were full.