The Castaway Hotel
Book 4

By: B W
(© 2012 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chapter 45
Unresolved Issues. 

Mary and Sally showed up early at the house, prepared to fix breakfast for all of us, but I told them it really wasn’t necessary.  I explained we were doing all right and could take care of ourselves, but the two women just ignored me and began their preparations.  When I continued to press the issue, they told me to be quiet and go spend my time with the boys, while they took care of the trivial chores.  Admitting defeat, I thanked them for their help, but not until I’d teased them about their approach, and then did what they had suggested.  Once we had all eaten, the rest of the morning went quite quickly, so it was soon time to get cleaned up and changed, so we could go to the funeral home again.  Today there were two sets of calling hours planned, the first from 1:00 to 3:00, when I expected some of Brent’s friends would show up, and then another from 6:00 to 8:00.  I was hoping this wouldn’t be too much for us to handle, especially after the overwrought emotions of the previous day.

During the first set of calling hours, many of Brent’s classmates filtered in, accompanied by their parents.  This was a very disconcerting moment for most of them, as Brent was probably the first person around their own age that had died.  We tried to help them get through this by explaining that Brent wasn’t feeling any pain and we’d all see him again some day, thinking this might make them feel better.  Most accepted our explanation, although a few openly scoffed at the idea, but most were polite enough not to argue the point. 

Things were going as smoothly as one would expect, until Jimmy and his parents walked in.  Everyone could see they had been through a traumatic experience and the bruises visible on their faces and arms made them look as if they had been mugged or in some kind of a brawl.  Jimmy immediately broke down, just as soon as he saw Brent lying in his casket, so I went over to him and placed an arm around his shoulders. 

“I wish it had been me instead,” he choked out, through his tears.  I could tell he was feeling guilty he had survived but Brent hadn’t.

“Don’t even think that,” I chastised him.  “This was no one’s fault.  It was merely an accident and Brent would have told you that too, if he could.”

“But he would still be alive, if I hadn’t invited him to go with us,” Jimmy sobbed back.

“We don’t know that for sure,” I countered.  “Something else might have happened, such as he might have been riding with me when something like that happened or another car could have rammed into his side of our car.  You can’t beat yourself up over this.” 

About that time, Jimmy’s parents came over to me and apologized, saying how sorry they were for allowing this to happen.  I assured them, as I had their son, I understood it was merely the result of an accident and they weren’t to blame.  Once they were convinced I didn’t hold them responsible, I led them to a smaller, private sitting room where we could talk.  I needed answers to a few questions of my own and concluded now was probably as good a time as any to get them.

“Look, I’m not blaming you for this,” I began, “but I need to know what happened.  Why wasn’t Brent wearing his seat belt, like the rest of you?”  Jimmy’s father was the one who answered my question.

“Brent and Jimmy were in the back seat and each of them were strapped in.  They had been playing games and listening to music when Brent unbuckled his seatbelt to reach for his bag, which was in the storage area behind their seat.  He was leaning over the seat, trying to get what he wanted out of his bag, when the tire blew out and the Bronco lurched out of control.  We didn’t know he was ejected until later.  We were all so shaken and banged up that it took us several minutes to discover he wasn’t anywhere to be found.  We hoped he’d been thrown clear and was just lying in the grass dazed, and we didn’t learn differently until we were at the hospital.  I’m so very sorry, Josh.  I just wish there was something I could have done to prevent it.”

“It wasn’t your fault and you made Brent very happy during those two weeks,” I replied.  “When Brent called home, he told me what a great time he was having and how much he liked all of you.  I’m just thankful for everything you did for him and that none of you were injured more seriously.  I will never hold you responsible and I don’t want you to continue blaming yourselves.  Is that clear?”

“Yes, it is,” he hesitantly agreed, “and thank you for being so understanding.”

From there we went back to join the others, so I could greet more of those paying their respects and listen to their heartfelt expressions of sympathy. 

In between the two sets of calling hours, we went back home, grabbed a little something to eat and tried to rest briefly.  However, the time seemed to pass quite rapidly, so almost before we knew it, we found ourselves heading back to the funeral parlor, to spend two more hours saying our goodbyes and dealing with others.  Although it was just as sad, this session passed by more quickly and without as many of the heart-wrenching emotional scenes.  This was primarily for two reasons.  First, the younger people came to the earlier viewing, so there weren’t as many of them to deal with, and second, it seemed that the rest of us were growing numb, due to the energy we’d expending bearing our grief. 

There was one exception to this and that was when the Beckers showed up with Little Ricky.  Mr. Becker apologized to me about not having arrived sooner, but I understood his dilemma.  There was a great deal to take care of on the farm and much of it couldn’t be put off until later.  It was also difficult to round up help on such short notice, so I told him not to worry about it.  Once that had been settled, I offered to walk them up to see Brent, because I wanted to be there for Little Ricky when this happened. 

Hesitantly, Little Ricky took my hand and we approached the coffin, with his parents walking beside him.  When we got close enough to view the body, Little Ricky finally spoke.  “I guess I didn’t know him as well as some of your other sons,” he admitted, “but he did seem really nice.  I’m sorry this happened to him and now I wish I’d had time to get to know him better.” 

I thanked him for his comments and then he looked toward Brent’s body again.  I’m not really certain I understand what tempted him to do what he did next, other than to sate his curiosity, but Little Ricky tentatively reached out his hand and stroked Brent’s cheek. 

“He feels all cold and sort of stiff,” he whispered to me, so he didn’t draw attention from anyone else. 

“I know,” I agreed.  “Once you die, you no longer produce any body heat and the muscles get all hard like that when rigor mortis sets in.  That might not make much sense to you now, but you’ll discover that’s how bodies feel, after they’ve been dead for a while.” 

He seemed satisfied with my response, but then his mother offered her heartfelt condolences through her own tears.  I went back and sat down beside them, so we could chat for a while longer, before they left and made the long drive back to their home. 

It was almost a relief, when we discovered it was finally time to go back home.  After the others had gone outside, Kevin and I walked back up to say one final good-bye, and once again Kevin broke down and wept, while leaning his head upon Brent’s chest.  After he regained his composure, he kissed Brent on the lips and told him again that he loved him, and then I kissed Brent on the forehead, before we went outside to rejoin the others. 

After the short ride home, we sat around and talked for a while longer, sharing our favorite memories of Brent.  During this time, we discussed everything from how we had discovered him and brought him home, to his time adjusting to such a large household and how he had blossomed in the few months we had been together.  Some of the boys even recalled some of the more humorous things that had happened involving Brent or told tales about some the funny things he had done.  As we did this, we all began to realize how much joy he had brought into our lives and hoped we’d done the same for him.  It was obvious we would continue to cling to these special memories and always feel a part of him with us, as we thought back upon all those special times we’d shared, no matter how brief a time it was. 

As it started to grow late, we felt it would be best if we tried to get some sleep, since we’d be getting up early to attend our normal Sunday service, before Brent’s funeral was held.  As the boys began to disappear and head upstairs to shower and get ready for bed, Kevin announced he wanted to sleep with me again, so I readily agreed.  He followed me to my room, and I told him he could get ready first, while I went to check on everyone else and close up the house.  When I came back to my bedroom, Kevin was drying off, so I went in and cleaned up quickly, before crawling into bed beside him.  As I was getting comfortable, Kevin propped himself up on his elbow and looked over at me, which told me something was on his mind. 

“Dad?” he began, almost as a question.

“Yes, Kevin,” I responded, just to let him know I was ready to listen to whatever he had to say. 

“Do you really think we’ll all be together again some day?” he asked.  It was almost as if I could sense the hopefulness in his voice, as he sought a way to ease his lingering pain and sense of loss. 

“I certainly do,” I agreed.  “Someday we’ll all be together with God and enjoying each other’s company once more.  That’s part of my faith and part of God’s promise to us, so of course I believe it’s true.”

“And you really think he’s happy?” he persisted, as he sought to find a reason to let go of his misgivings. 

“I do.  He’s with God and is content,” I confirmed.  “He’s probably missing you too and I’d be willing to bet he’s most likely watching over you now, to make sure you’re happy and able to move on with your life.  He doesn’t want you to forget him, but he also doesn’t want you spending what years you have left mourning his loss either.”

“But I miss him soooo much,” Kevin told me. 

“I know you do, baby, and you always will,” I confirmed, “but the pain will slowly lessen and eventually fade away, leaving you to cling to all the great memories of the times you boys shared with each other.”

Kevin slowly slid over, until he was leaning up against me, and then he waited for me to put my arms around his torso and comfort him.  Nothing was said for a minute or so after I did that, but then he looked up at me with those pitiful puppy-dog eyes of his and made a confession.  “You know, we made love before he left,” he announced, “and I’m glad we did.  I will always remember that night and feel special about what we shared together.”

“I’m sure he will too, honey,” I agreed, “and someday he’ll tell you so himself.” 

After telling him that, I just held Kevin’s body firmly against mine and let him deal with all of the demons and questions that still plagued him.  I prayed it wouldn’t take long for him to come to grips with the harsh realities of life and move on with it.  He had many years ahead of him, but he’d never enjoy it until he made peace with the shadows from his past. 

He fell asleep still leaning against me, so I sat there for a few minutes longer holding him, while resting my cheek on the top of his head.  I also drifted into the Land of Nod in that position, and only awoke when I developed a painful spasm in my neck.  In an attempt to make us both more comfortable, I eased Kevin’s body toward the foot of the bed and rested his head on his pillow, before I covered him with the sheet.  Then I slid down beside him, until we were resting side-by-side.  I draped my arm over his chest and held him against my own body, in hopes that he’d find a sense of comfort in feeling my touch and knowing he wasn’t alone. 

When I awoke again, later that morning, Kevin was just lying beside me, propped up on his elbow, just staring at my face.  It made me wonder how long he had been waiting for me to open my eyes.  When I finally did, he thanked me for being there for him again and then suggested it was time for us to go eat.

We got up, had breakfast, cleaned up and dressed for services.  Once everyone was ready, we led a caravan to the church and the others followed us inside and filled up a good share of the pews on the right side of the edifice.  As he began to speak, I quickly concluded our minister must have changed the topic of his sermon, after he learned of Brent’s untimely demise.  Over the course of the next hour, our spiritual leader tried to address many of the same issues we had been dealing with on our own, however he had many biblical references to support his answers, something I had been unable to do.  As we listened, he reaffirmed many of the things I had told the boys in private, which added weight to my earlier comments.  It seemed enough to convince them to believe and accept the things I’d told them. 

When the service ended, our pastor made sure to stop us for a brief chat, and confirmed everything was set for the funeral.  He told us he’d see us again in about an hour, before we drove from the church to the funeral home, to attend the part of the service that would be conducted there.

Once we arrived, I asked the boys to remain outside, while I met with the funeral home director.  During our brief chat, I explained to him that when the time came, I wanted to watch him close and seal the casket, in order to make certain all the right items were left inside, which included Kevin’s picture, the floral pillow and the floral cross.  We wanted those things to be interred with Brent, in addition to a little poem I planned to slip into Brent’s hands, just before the lid was closed for the final time. 

After assuring me he was amenable to my request, although it wasn’t the norm, I signaled the boys and the others who had gathered outside that they could come in.  After a brief service, conducted by the funeral home director, everyone filed by the casket to pay his final respects, after which I was the only one who remained, along with the director.  After sliding the slip of paper I had pulled from my pocket under Brent’s hands, the coffin lid was lowered and locked, trapping a piece of my heart inside with everything else. 

Once that had been completed, we brought the boys back who were going to serve as pallbearers and arranged them so they could carry the casket out to the hearse.  Once the body was loaded, we all followed behind the hearse in our own vehicles, forming the typical funeral procession, as we made our way from the funeral home to the church. 

When we reached the church, the pallbearers carried the casket inside and placed it in front of the altar, while the choir sang ‘Rock of Ages.’  In case you don’t know the verses to this old standard, they are as follows:

          Rock of Ages, cleft for me,

          Let me hide myself in thee;

          Let the water and the blood,

          From thy wounded side which flowed,

          Be of sin the double cure;

          Save from wrath and make me pure.

          While I draw this fleeting breath,

          When mine eyes shall close in death,

          When I soar to worlds unknown,

          See thee on thy judgment throne,

          Rock of Ages, cleft for me,

          Let me hide myself in thee.

Once everyone was in his place, the pastor offered his first prayer and then told us all to be seated.  For the next half hour, our minister delivered his eulogy and reminded us about Brent’s fine attributes, and then the choir sang, ‘Jesus, Savior, Pilot Me.’ 

Jesus Savior pilot me, over life's tempestuous sea
Unknown waves before me roll, hiding rock and treach'rous shoal
Chart and compass come from Thee, Jesus Savior pilot me

As a mother stills her child, Thou canst hush the ocean wild
Boist'rous waves obey Thy will, when Thou say'st to them be still
Wondrous sov'reign of the sea, Jesus Savior pilot me

When the hymn had concluded, the minister gave his final benediction, before the choir finished with ‘His Eye Is On The Sparrow.’

Why should I feel discouraged, why should the shadows come,
Why should my heart be lonely, and long for heaven and home,
When Jesus is my portion? My constant friend is He:
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

Refrain

I sing because I’m happy,
I sing because I’m free,
For His eye is on the sparrow,
And I know He watches me.

Let not your heart be troubled, His tender word I hear,
And resting on His goodness, I lose my doubts and fears;
Though by the path He leadeth, but one step I may see;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

Refrain

Whenever I am tempted, whenever clouds arise,
When songs give place to sighing, when hope within me dies,
I draw the closer to Him, from care He sets me free;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

Refrain

When the choir finished signing the last refrain, those assembled began the slow process of filing outside, while the pallbearers returned to the front of the church.  As soon as everyone else had left the building, the pallbearers carried Brent’s coffin back to the hearse, and then we drove to the cemetery, where the graveside service was to be performed.

After the casket was placed above the open grave, we all gathered around it, while the pastor gave his final remarks and blessing.  I waited at the gravesite even after the crowd had dispersed, since I had asked Jake, Steve, Mary, Sally and the Spences to watch the boys for the next few minutes, while I said my final farewell to Brent and watched the cemetery workers place the coffin into the vault and seal it up.  I know this is highly unusual and the cemetery employees don’t usually like doing this with family members watching, but my relatives have always insisted on it and no one has ever turned us down, although we generally understood they weren’t always happy about granting our request. 

Slowly, one of the men started the crank that lowered the casket downward and into the vault.  As I watched Brent’s coffin dip beneath ground level and begin to disappear, those lingering doubts about whether I might have been able to prevent this began to resurface.  While I watched the workers pull the straps out from beneath the coffin and move the backhoe into position to lower the lid onto the vault, the realization that Brent was really gone suddenly struck home.  As I continued to watch the casket containing his earthly remains being entombed in that damp, dark hole, my knees began to become unsteady, but I remained there until the lid was in place and the chains had been removed.  Now, I watched as the workers began to push the dirt over the vault and it gradually began to disappear from view.   

At that moment, I began to blame myself again for allowing this to have happened.  Why hadn’t I listened to Graham’s warning?  How was I going to live and be of use to the other boys, now that I doubted my own ability to care for them and act in their best interest?  How could I continue to survive, while bearing all of this guilt? 

This was a very difficult time for me.  You see, when I give my love, I give it completely, and the pain I was feeling now was more than just guilt.  It was also the anxiety of being separated from someone I loved deeply.  At that moment my chest started to become heavy, like a great weight had been placed upon my ribcage, and it became quite difficult for me to breathe.  As I turned toward the others, I noticed a sharp pain shoot down my left arm and began feeling lightheaded.  I didn’t know what to do, so I merely began to walk toward those closest to me, but I didn’t get very far before I slumped to the ground.  I knew something was seriously wrong, and at that moment remembered Graham’s warning that a shadow had also surrounded me.  Jake and Steve must have realized what was happening, because I saw them rushing in my direction, before an entire wave of people followed suit. 

John Spence was already dialing for help on his cell-phone before anyone reached me, but as I lay there on the ground, the pain continued to grow worse.  It was becoming increasingly more difficult to breathe and I was barely able to speak by the time the others got to me and began to inquire as to what was wrong.  From that point on, things became a blur, so I don’t even remember the ambulance arriving or being placed inside.  It only took a few minutes before I was whisked away to the hospital, with the lights flashing and sirens blaring, while the others followed us there. 

Once the EMT’s got me inside, the doctors and nurses hooked me up to a bunch of machines and began pumping drugs through IVs into my veins.  Sometime during this process, I slipped into unconsciousness, while they continued to work on me, and the adults tried their best to keep the boys from totally losing it, while all of this was going on.  Later, one of the doctors went out to the waiting area to explain what he could and let them know what was happening.  After exchanging identities and relationships, the doctor advised them of my situation.

“I’m afraid Mr. Currie has suffered a heart attack,” he announced.  “From what we can tell, there’s been some muscle damage to the right side of his heart, so he’ll remain in the cardiac critical care unit until he becomes stable.  The next 24 to 48 hours will be critical to our understanding of how this will affect him, but he’s not very old and appears to be in fairly decent shape, so that should help.”

“He won’t die, will he, doctor?” Frankie asked.

“I can’t be sure about that,” the physician answered, “but it will depend on how well he responds to the treatment being administered.  I’m afraid this was more than just a mild cardiac arrest and we’ll need time to run other tests and monitor his progress before we know more.  We’ll continue to watch him closely and I’ll keep you apprised if there is any change in his condition.”

At this point, the adults had their hands full with the boys, as they attempted to keep them calm and optimistic.  Not only had they just buried one of their brothers, but they’d also witnessed their father suffer a heart attack at the gravesite.  What more could happen?

In an effort to soothe some of the boys’ concerns, Jake told them he’d swing by his place to pick up some things for Shannon and himself, so he could stay with them until I was better.  He assured them he’d remain there and do whatever was needed until I returned and was able to take over again, which did make them feel a little better. 

After staying at the hospital for a couple more hours, some of the others finally convinced the boys they needed to go home for a while, to eat and rest, even though they didn’t want to leave.  In reality, the adults thought it would be best if they didn’t stay at the hospital, which was full of negative reminders about the fragility of life, but promised the boys they’d bring them back later that evening or the moment any change in my situation occurred.  After a brief verbal tussle, the boys gave in and did what the others suggested. 

The Spences offered to stay at the hospital and forward any news, just in case my situation changed.  The others then agreed to take turns relieving them, in two or three-hour shifts, while Jake and Shannon made a quick trip home.  After collecting what they’d need to last them for the next several days, they arrived at our house and Jake assured the other adults he’d be fine with the boys and they could all head to their own places. 

Once the others had left, the boys began to ask Jake what was going to happen to them if I died too, and he immediately promised them he’d make certain they’d all stay together, no matter what.  He told them in the event I couldn’t come home for a while or this proved to be fatal, he’d move in and raise them in my stead.  He constantly tried to assure them they didn’t need to worry about being split up or sent somewhere else, now or ever.  He also explained that Uncle Steve and Aunt Sally would do whatever it took to keep them together, but suggested it was moot, since I’d probably be back in a few days to a few weeks, and nearly as good as new, which brought a few forced smiles to their faces. 

Jake then went on to explain that he and Shannon would even remain for a while after I returned home, to make sure I’d able to handle things on my own again before they left.  Not only did that ease their minds, once my boys told me about what Jake had said, but my sons also learned it was good to have friends you could count on, especially at times like this.

The End of Book 4

Posted: 09/21/12