There's no way I'm going to take her with me. I can't ride with her for all those hours. All the way to Wilton and back. All those hours cooped up with her in that little truck with nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. All those stupid questions; "Well Jim, what about this..." "Well Jim, what about that..." "Well Jim, do you think..."
FOR-GET-IT. I'm going alone. Lin can break the bad news to my mother when she calls to find out why I haven't picked her up. It'll be too late anyway. By then, I'll be half way down the Mass Pike.
Four plus or minus hours down, four plus or minus hours back. I calculate if I leave at 6:00-7:00 AM, I should be back before dinner.
Nanny had died in April after, as they say, a brief illness. It had been a debilitating stroke. Fact is, in a fashion so typical of Nanny, she had willed herself to death rather than be a bother to anyone. The death certificate listed the cause as complications arising from a stroke but I knew otherwise.
We all had been waiting in anticipation of the call from Wilton. The call telling us Nanny's ashes had arrived from the crematorium in upstate New York. Nanny and Auntie were living in Wilton at the time of Nanny's death.
While waiting for the call, Mom and Auntie had found a mausoleum or columbarium or whatever the hell you call it up in Manchester. Auntie had purchased four adjacent compartments. One for herself, one for Mom one for Nanny and the fourth for the rest of the family. Why she bought four I'll never know as you can store a bread box in each of them. Maybe she didn't want to be seen with us in public.
Well, it was now July. For the life of me I still can't figure why it took so long to turn that skinny old lady into something that will fit into an urn. No matter, it was July, and one of the hottest days yet that summer. Volume up, windows down. Summer safari in a Toyota pickup.
The trip down was uneventful. Highway clear. None of those unmarked Crown Victorias waiting for me in the median strip.
I arrive at the church offices just as Helen is getting ready to go to lunch.
"Hi Jim, haven't seen you in a while, how was the trip down?" "How's your aunt.""Sorry to hear about your grandmother."
After some more idle chat with Auntie's old associate, I'm handed the much awaited package.
Here I am standing there looking down at the package in my hands. The package that contained my grandmother's mortal remains. Well, sort of.
I couldn't help but notice that the brown paper wrapped box is covered with colorful postage stamps. A proverbial philatelist's dream. It seems that Nanny had gotten one of her life's wishes.
"In my next life, I'm going to go first class, don't you know." She often quipped
Little did she know.
"No need to make a special trip just for me." "I don't want anyone fussin' over me." I can just hear her now. The old lady would have appreciated the frugality of it though.
As I head for the door, Helen calls out: "Oh, I almost forgot." "Your aunt called a while ago and she asked me to have you call her before you leave for home. "
I beg a free phone call from Helen and connect back with the Granite State.
"Would you mind stopping by the vet's and picking up Peter on the way back?"
I'm thinking, "Peter, who the hell is..." Oh, the cat. I'd almost forgotten about Peter.
Peter was Peter the Great. Auntie had a thing for naming her cats after historical figures.
Peter had been rescued from a gray Sunday afternoon downpour by Auntie.
"Goddamit, Margaret." "You're not going to bring that mangy old thing into this house." Considering Peter's appearance at the time, it was no wonder Nanny was in a snit.
The soaked to the bones cat was grayer than the afternoon. This skinny old tom looked like he'd had his share of encounters with other toms in territorial defense. Scars all over his head. Half an ear missing. Nose ripped into three pieces. Only after a bath did they realize that Peter the Great was actually white.
No one knows when Nanny came to love that cat. We knew it was so when we came into the living room one afternoon. There she sat in that old overstuffed chair, snoring to beat the band with that old cat curled up on her lap. She wouldn't even pay even the slightest attention to the other cats. I think maybe she recognized a bit of herself in that cat: tough as nails. After all, this lady used to go moose hunting with her husband in the wilds of the far north.
I always wondered how that wonderful lady ended up with a couple of daughters like the ones she had.
Peter had died about a week before Nanny. The vet had sent his remains off to be cremated and the ashes had just gotten back.
I got directions to the vet's and headed out.
"Hi, I'm..."
"Oh, you must be Jim." "I just got off the phone with your aunt." "Please wait here, I'll go get Peter."
How about that? The vet's assistant is on a first name basis with Peter. He must have been well thought of by everyone.
I'm handed a small paper bag.
"What's this lady doing giving me her lunch...?" "Oh, it's Peter."
Back in the truck, my curiosity overtakes me and I peer into the lunch bag. I find a small tin box about 3 inches by 5 inches by 2 1/2 inches. It's covered with brightly colored polka dots. I think it looks more like something your grandmother would keep her hard candies in rather than a reliquary for the noble Peter the Great.
I place Peter on the seat next to Nanny and we're off.
I make a stop on the way out of town. I pick up a six of Heinekens and get back on the road.
Arriving home about 6:00 as expected, I leave Nanny and Peter in the truck while I go inside for dinner. It's been a long day and they're not going anywhere.
Later that evening, I figure it's best that I unwrap Nanny before Mom see the stamps on the package. I go back out to the truck.
I don't know what came over me next, but...
Shake, shake, shake. Nanny was pretty quiet in her little box.
I remove the stamp embellished brown paper wrapper and find a brown plastic box. Nothing fancy. In fact it was rather ordinary looking. No markings. Nothing. About a 10 inch cube with a sliding top. Sliding the top back, I find Nanny's been double wrapped for safety and convenience. Clear plastic bag with a red twist tie. I fight the urge to give the bag a poke with my finger.
It's Friday. The day after the trip. Time to put Nanny to rest.
"No, don't come up here, I'll meet you at the cemetery." "Have the cemetery's caretaker there to take the cover off the compartment."
The stupid questions begin as I'm getting out of the Toyota in the cemetery parking lot.
"What are we going to do with Peter?"
"What if they won't let us... "
"What are we going to do about an urn? "
"Maybe there's a law... "
And the infamous "How DID your grandmother get back to Wilton from New York?"
"Jim..."
"Jim..."
"JIM!"
I see a likely building down a short path off the parking lot. Quickly, I head for what I suppose is my intended destination.
I shut out the noise and try to enjoy the peaceful surroundings of the cemetery. The questions still filter through the serenity. They're coming from behind me as I walk faster toward a tall white building.
The columbarium is a lot larger than I had expected. The equivalent of a three story building. I enter the building a few steps ahead of my mother. The questions stop for the moment as the heavy glass doors close behind me.
The floor plan is laid out (if you'll forgive the expression) in the shape of a cross. Gleaming white marble floors, walls and ceiling. Highly polished bronze. Heavy glass doors with cool bronze handles. Marble covered compartments with bronze plaques. A three story apartment complex for cinerary urns. An apartment complex no one lives in. The morning sun is pouring in through the glass doors I've just come through.
I know immediately where to go as the attendant is standing beside a compartment that has its' cover sitting on the floor leaning against the wall.
The compartment is about six and a half feet off the floor. I'm thinking it's a good thing I'm tall. Wouldn't want to have to climb a ladder. Wouldn't want to drop...
I shut out the images in my mind of gray dust wafting through the columbarium. Dust only visible in the sunbeams passing through the glass doors.
"Good morning, sir." I am greeted as I approach the attendant.
I nod an acknowledgment of the greeting and proceed to the matter at hand.
I say a last goodbye to Nanny as I slip the plastic box into the dark compartment. The goodbye is repeated as Peter follows close behind.
I slip the attendant a twenty, quickly turn and head for the door. Mom has just now succeeded in her struggles to get the heavy glass door open as I exit into the morning sun.
"Jim, did you just..."
The questions stop finally as the truck door closes and I start the engine.