The Coffee Corner by Amy Clipston

Author:Amy Clipston
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Zondervan
Published: 2020-12-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Micah stood in the family room Monday morning and felt as if he couldn’t breathe. The room was packed with people walking in to speak to him and his family as they waited by the coffin.

This all felt like a dream—a surreal, horrific nightmare. Daadi was gone. For days now Micah had been alone in his grandfather’s house. His greatest fear had come true. He kept hoping he’d wake up from this heartache and hear Daadi complaining that his bacon was too burned or his fried eggs were overdone. But no. Instead, Micah had awoken this morning alone again in a big, cold house and had to force himself out of bed to prepare for a funeral.

His mother and sister had come over to help him clean yesterday. Today Micah had worked hard to keep his tears at bay while getting himself ready. Now that he stood with his family by the coffin, he felt numb.

“I’m so sorry, Micah. Your daadi was a wunderbaar man,” Will Zimmerman said as he made his way through the line with Salina in tow.

“Danki.” Micah felt as if he was in a daze as he continued to thank members of the community.

Salina shook his hand next. “I’m so sorry.”

“Danki.” Micah was certain he spotted tears in her eyes, and he looked away. He couldn’t allow himself to get caught up in his overwhelming grief again. Instead, he glanced toward the doorway and found a long line of community members on their way to share their condolences. The room felt too small and too hot, even though it was early February.

Micah greeted a few more church members and then turned toward his brother-in-law beside him. “I need a break. I’ll be back.”

“Okay.” Al gave him a quick nod before turning back to another community member.

Keeping his head down and avoiding eye contact, Micah slipped past the line and out the back door. He welcomed the frigid morning air that settled into his bones as he started across the yard. The small mounds of snow lining the walkway had turned brown and sad after the snowfall Saturday.

Picking up speed, he once again kept his head down, avoiding the sad eyes of the community members filing up toward the house. He hurried to the large workshop, unlocked the door, and slipped inside the cold cinder block building. Once there, he released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and enjoyed the comforting smell of wood and stain.

Flipping on the overhead propane lights, he surveyed the large work area and spotted the glider Daadi had been working on before he started feeling bad last week. His eyes filled with tears as guilt squeezed his lungs, eating him alive.

Why hadn’t he insisted Daadi go to the doctor? If he had, would that have prevented the massive heart attack? If so, then Daadi would still be here, working with him, not lying unmoving in a coffin as people walked by, staring at his empty shell.

“Why, God? Why did

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