A Faithful Son by Michael Garvin

Author:Michael Garvin [Garvin, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
ISBN: 9781519414731
Publisher: CreateSpace
Published: 2016-05-09T04:00:00+00:00

When Laura answered from the other end, I smiled. Her familiar, comforting voice always reminded me of nostalgic warmer days.

“Well, hello, Brother Nance.”

“Hello, Sister Nance.”

Laughing about nothing special, we reminisced about the wedding, and she updated me on the new house in Sioux Falls. For the briefest moment, I’d forgotten I called with the news from Sidney. As I relayed Uncle Leland’s story, Laura remained silent. She finally asked if Dad would be buried in Durango or Nebraska.

“Is Uncle Leland having a memorial or graveside ceremony?”

“No. Laura, Uncle Leland cremated dad’s body.”

“What?”

I knew she would struggle with the thought of burning Dad’s remains to ash. “Laura, it was his wish. Leland said that’s what he wanted.”

With that, Laura agreed.

“I’m sending money to cover Leland’s expenses,” I said.

“Yes, of course. Let me know what we owe, Zach.”

Our conversation turned to the weather and upcoming holiday travel plans. Any melancholy or aching sadness my sister carried was saved for her private moments.

Before hanging up the receiver, Laura added, “Well, it’s done,” like something inevitable had come to pass.

Life was like that for Laura. I was always twisted out of shape about one thing or the other, but it seemed my sister came at life more clearheaded. No matter what was thrown her direction, she looked hard at a situation, dealt with it, and filed it away like organizing one of her recipes on three-by-five-inch cards. Practical and precise, life seemed more matter of fact. She never tolerated folly or foolishness, and forgiveness was a hard thing for my sis. Like pushing a mountain across a prairie, Laura wouldn’t budge, struggling to find a generous place in her heart for someone who had wronged her. Scriptures be damned, no clemency or reprieve was granted for those who betrayed her. When people crossed her, Laura washed her hands clean of them.

Perhaps that’s why, for my sis, Pop was long gone, his name expunged. Years ago he had wronged her, and like tearing a page from one of her notebooks, Laura had tossed him away. It occurred to me that maybe I was the only one who had still been waiting for Dad’s return, the only one who searched a crowd for familiar laughter.

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