The Last Hurrah

Amber Fieldale stood beside Mrs. Hobbs in the family pew. She watched as family and neighbors came down the aisle. Amber’s legs felt like jelly and she sat down with a thud. A shudder went through her, as her attention went from the black clad people to the oak coffin covered with white daisies and roses.

Amber’s thoughts drifted to the night before. She had stood beside Aunt Anne, in the funeral parlor, as everyone gathered to say their goodbyes in private. The coffin was open with Gran propped up against a white satin pillow surrounded by silk green satin. Gran looked at peace and like she would pop up any second to say something. Amber shivered and bolted  outside when Aunt Anne had asked her to kiss Gran one last time. The stars had twinkled in the dark sky but one star had been brighter than the others. Goosebumps formed on Amber’s arms as she folded them over her chest.

The rustle of Aunt Anne’s skirt, as she walked down the aisle, brought Amber’s mind back to the present. Amber and Gran hadn’t seen Aunt Anne for five years and there hadn’t been a letter for a long time. Now here she was dabbing her eyes with a rumpled handkerchief. Aunt Anne’s back was stiff and erect as she passed Amber. She glanced at the sad, forlorn but tearless girl sitting in the Fieldale pew. Aunt Anne was dressed in a dark grey pinstripe suit with a black velvet hat with a black veil concealing her dark brown eyes.

Amber’s gaze wandered to where Uncle Matthew, Aunt Teresa and family stood. They had visited frequently and those had been fun times.

Amber’s thoughts drifted to the night before when she’d tossed and turned and drifted from one dream to another. She smiled as she remembered the dream where she’d danced in the meadow with Gran.

Gran had been ill for several weeks and had been rushed to the hospital. On Amber’s last visit Gran had squeezed her hand gently before she drifted off to sleep. That night she had passed away and the following days were a blur.

Amber felt bewildered and gazed around the room as the minister’s voice droned on and on. Her thoughts drifted to happier days with Mrs. Hobbs and Gran. The little cottage felt empty now even though friends and neighbors dropped in every day to give their condolences.

The rustle of Aunt Mabel’s dress brought her back to the present for a moment. Amber glanced at Auntie Jo and Auntie Anna as they dabbed their eyes with crumpled lace edged hankies. Amber’s brow knit together into a frown as she watched. Her great aunt’s hadn’t visited for fifteen years and only wrote at Christmas. Now they made a show of their grief and criticized Amber for not crying.

Amber had sobbed silently into her pillow last night. It had just been Mrs. Hobbs, Gran and her with neighbors dropping in to visit. Aunt Magel had short visits but always left in a huff and Amber felt relieved when she left because peace was restored. Her thoughts were interrupted as everyone stood up for the final hymn, How Great Thou Art, one of Gran’s favorites.

Amber stiffened as her uncles and cousins shouldered the coffin and marched down the aisle towards the door. In a few minutes she followed Aunt Mabel, Auntie Jo, Auntie Anna and Aunt Anne in single file down the aisle behind the coffin. Outside the coffin was placed into the black hearse and everyone drifted to waiting vehicles.

Black threatening clouds formed overhead as Amber watched the coffin being lowered in the ground. She clinched her hands until her fingernails dug into her palms. She hung her head and shivered watching in disbelief. What now? Her life had been turned upside down in a few short days. Amber followed the others as they dumped clumps of earth and roses on the coffin. Tears filled her eyes as she stumbled along. “Oh Gran, don’t leave me.” They turned to leave as rain spattered on the ground leaving circles in the dust.

“Don’t make a public spectacle of yourself,” Aunt Mabel hissed.

Tears poured down Amber’s cheeks as she looked up at Aunt Mabel.She should talk. Aunt Mabel had been sniffing and dabbing her eyes all the way through the service. Now she was smiling and talking to everyone as if nothing had happened. How could she?

Then a gentle hand touched Amber’s shoulder and she looked up to see Uncle Mathew standing beside her with a gentle twinkle in his blue eyes. “Let’s go to the house. Tomorrow is a fresh day.” He put his arm around Amber’s shoulders as they walked towards the car.

The End

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About mhembroff

I am the author of Bess's Magical Garden, a middle grade novel and picture book Gramma Mouse Tells a Story. I am the member of the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators, Writers Guild of Alberta and Rave Reviews Book Club. My series The Ghostly Encounters and other short stories can be found on https://www.channillo.com, listed in the short story section. I have been an avid reader since early childhood and has always been imaginative. It wasn't until my children were growing up that I started taking writing classes and put my creations onto paper. When I'm not writing I like to paint, draw, work in the garden and spend time with my pets and family.
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