Walking Backwards - Episode 11
The funeral of Rick Anders, a second, more private wake for Rick, and Drew returns to West Columbia.
Welcome to the eleventh episode of Walking Backwards, the third collection of not quite true tales of Texas. Previous collections are:
The Cold Days of Summer - If you are new to these tales and the type who likes to know how things started I would recommend starting here.
The Hollow Men - the second collection of not quite true tales of Texas.
New episodes are posted (almost) every Sunday. You can move easily between episodes via links to the previous and next episode.
If you are new to these not quite true tales of Texas but are the type who likes to dive right in you could start with the prologue to Walking Backwards. The prologue provides a summary of the first two collections and descriptions of the major characters you will be reading about in Walking backwards.
In our last episode, episode 10 of Walking Backwards, Jack once more threatens to kill Drew, Drew goes to familiar places but finds nothing of help, a wake is held for Rick, and Robert learns a new explanation for an old parable.
The funeral of Rick Anders
The memorial service for Rick would be held at the church his family had attended since they moved to Odessa. There would also be a private grave side service, for family and close friends at Sunset Memorial Gardens, not far from the Odessa Country Club.
Uncle Bill and Aunt Sherry came by the house at 12:30. Mom and I rode with them to the church. The parking lot was full and Uncle Bill had to park on the street. We walked in and I was amazed. The church was large, but there were so many people. I had no idea that so many people knew Rick or his family. A place was reserved for us near the front of the church. It was a long walk. It seems as if one of the four of us knew every person along the way and there had to be a few seconds of hand shaking, hugs and condolences with every one of them. My Mom, Uncle Bill and Aunt Sherry introduced me to many people that day and I do not remember a single name. I'm bad with names on any day but on this day I was just that much worse.
Finally we sat down. I was sitting next to Robert, my Mom next to me, then Uncle Bill and Aunt Sherry. Robert was sitting next to his parents. The service began, songs were sung, prayers were said. I don't remember anything. Robert walked to the front to talk about Rick. He said a few words, good brotherly words, but then he could not go on. The weight of it all came down on him and he cried. His Dad walked up to him and they both held each other tight. They sat down and I heard my name. It was my turn. I walked up to the front, stood behind the podium and looked out over the crowd. I saw many people that I knew but I saw far more people that I did not know.
I had been here before, at my Dad’s funeral, standing in front of a large group of people who expected me to say something wise and kind. Sunday afternoon I had sketched out an outline of what I wanted to say and Sunday night I let the ideas run around in my mind. Today, as I looked out over the crowd I knew there was nothing I could say that would properly justify and explain Rick's life and death. His life on earth had been short, too short. I stood in a place of faith as a man of no faith, a stranger in a strange land. In truth, that wasn't much different than most days in my life. I was used to this, I was used to adapting to the situation so I tossed out the outline and spoke not about life and death, but immortality. I was making it up as I went along. This is what I said.
“What is immortality? Is immortality what Dorian Grey sold his soul for? Is it living for over 900 years like Methuselah? Or is it something different?
Still not sure where those opening lines came from. I took a breath and kept speaking, somewhat amazed at the words that just showed up. Usually I rehearsed nearly every word I spoke. This time was different. It was as if someone other than me was doing the thinking and speaking.
“Our concept of immortality is bounded, framed by our definitions of life and death. Normally we think of life as being our physical presence on this earth, and death as the end of that time. Within such a framework, immortality is an endless time on earth. But what if we change our understanding of life and death? Would our concept of immortality itself change? What if being alive meant purpose, value, meaning, and death was the absence of those things? With this understanding, could not one be physically alive, and yet dead? Such a person would be living without meaning, purpose or direction, merely drifting from time to time, place to place. To themselves and perhaps others their presence might have no meaning or value.”
I was alive, standing in front of the church, but I was dead. My life was absent of purpose, value and meaning. They couldn't see I was dead, deader than dead, deader than Tommy, my Dad or Rick. They couldn't see.
“On the other hand, one could be physically dead, yet still alive as the purpose and meaning of one's life, one's beliefs and dreams, are carried on by others long past the time one's mortal shell ceases to exist.
“A few years back Rick told me it's that's a comfort to live knowing you won't be forgotten after you're dead. It was a strange conversation between two old friends, maybe a little too honest, a little too blunt, but that's how we were. That day we talked about life and death and the importance of memory. When someone remembers you after you are gone, it's almost a form of immortality. Rick told me you never know who will remember you or why they remember you. He told me all you can do is your best to make sure that those who remember you remember you in a positive light.”
I took a deep breath, I could feel myself breaking. I looked out over the crowd but did not look anyone in the eye. I couldn't, if I did I would break, I sure wouldn't bend. I would break and today, this moment, I couldn't allow myself to break. I closed my eyes for a moment, looked for something to hold onto, something that would keep me going but found nothing. I swallowed hard, opened my eyes and kept going despite I had nothing left.
“Rick, I remember you, today and forever. I remember you in a positive light.”
I took another deep breath, almost a gulp and kept going.
“Our dreams, beliefs and ideals represent our individual spirit, and it is in this manner we can define the concept of immortality of the spirit.
“Immortality of the spirit is a concept not limited to a particular creed or religion for it is based on the simple concept of memory. When we remember those who are important to us, we renew their memory, their spirit, within us. In turn, when others remember us, our spirit is renewed within them. When we share our memories with others, we share the spirits of those memories. It is through renewing and sharing of memories that over time immorality of the spirit is achieved. Let me give you some examples:
“A man named Jesus lived and died some two thousand years ago. No matter if one is Christian or not, his teachings, his beliefs continue to affect us all today.
“Another man named Mohammed lived and died some thirteen hundred years ago. His teachings, dreams and spirit live on in Islam, the fastest growing major religion today.
“Martin Luther King died more than two decades ago. His memories, his dreams are as fresh today as they were then.
“Sadly, just as good can be immortal, so can evil, and the memories of a Stalin or Hitler remind us of the potential for evil and destruction within all of us.”
By this point the words were flowing. I was wondering where this would end, but I kept going.
“Is this immortality of the spirit limited to only the historically significant, the famous? No, immortality of the spirit is within the reach of all of us. But it is something we can not take, we can only give it to others, and in turn receive it from others. We give the gift of immortality of the spirit when we remember family, friends, loved ones, mentors, heroes, saviors, all those who helped shape our lives. When we are remembered by others we receive the gift of immortality of the spirit. When we share memories we share the spirits of those memories and we give and receive the gift many times over.
“Just look at what has happened the last few days. Each of us has our own specific and personal memories of Rick Anders. We’ve been sharing those memories with each other. I can't count how many times in the last two days I’ve been pulled aside by someone, a friend, a relative, someone who worked with Rick, and they would tell me what they remembered about Rick. As this went on I began to realize that my own memories of Rick were being renewed and enriched. I know now that I must share these memories with you, with others. Rick's spirit is immortal within each of us, within all who knew him as long as we remember him. As long as we remember him and share our memories of him with others.
“Throughout history, we have developed tools to augment our memory. These same tools serve to augment our ability to give and receive the gift of immortality of the spirit. In the beginning, cave paintings served to capture the spirit of a moment in time. With development of the spoken language, we could pass tales from generation to generation. The written word allowed us to permanently record people and events. All forms of art, visual art, theater, music, serve to capture the spirit of a specific instance or person, and that spirit is renewed simply through our enjoyment of art. In the nineteenth century, the photograph became a popular medium for capturing the spirit of a specific moment.
“Some native Americans feared the photograph, believing one's spirit was captured forever within the photograph. They were right, but it is not always a bad thing. Photographs capture the spirit of the people, the place and the time. When you return home, look at some old photographs, and as you do, notice how the spirit of the times, the places and the people within the photographs is renewed within you.
“My time here is nearly spent, but before I leave I ask three favors of you. One: live a life of purpose, value, and meaning. By doing so, you will be truly alive. Be of value to someone other than yourself, and your spirit, through those who value your memory, will be immortal. Two: Renew and share your memories and the spirit of someone important to you and their spirit will be immortal. Lastly, do not forget Rick and what he meant to you.
“An old friend once worried I would forget him after he was gone. Tommy, I have not forgotten you. Rick, I swear I will not forget you.”
I was done. I looked out at the crowd one more time. Some smiled, some dabbed at their eyes, some hid their faces. I was done, for today, hell, perhaps for all time. I sat down. My Mom squeezed my arm in that sweet way mothers do to let you know you did something true and right. Damn shame she didn't know how much of what I felt right then was a sham. Robert just stared at me, grabbed my hand, shook it hard and whispered “Damn, where did that come from? You ought to be a preacher. That was good, real good.”
Other words were said but I did not hear them. The first two rows of family and close friends were the first to leave and walk over to the reception hall where a bevy of refreshments awaited us, but no alcohol, which is what I needed then more than anything else.
I walked alone until Mark brought me a glass of iced Coca-Cola and pulled me over to a corner where we were almost out of sight.
“You need this, so do I.” With that he pulled a flask from an inside pocked of his suit jacket. He poured a healthy amount in my glass, took a swig from the flask and offered it to me. I took a drink, it burned, but it was the first piece of life I had felt that day.
“Thanks, I needed that.”
“Remind you a little bit of Jo-Jo's? I wish I had a lime, then it would be perfect.”
“Yeah, a squeeze of lime would be nice, but this is better than I expected.” I took a long swallow of my whiskey infused cola. “Much better. I may just make it through this day, thanks to you.”
“Yeah, you're welcome. You know you're fucking crazy, don't you? That speech, shit, where the hell did that come from? Man, people were falling apart. No, no, don't worry, in a good way they're falling apart. Liked the touch at the end, about Tommy, that was nice. Real nice. But here's the bad part, you touched a lot of people today with those words, and they're going to want to tell you, and they won't let you go until they're done and they're not going to be done for a long fucking while. After they're done with you, we're going to get drunk tonight, going to make sure we wash this shit all away.”
Mark was right. They would not leave me alone. It felt like I talked to every person that had been at the service. They all had their stories to tell, their memories to share and I didn't care, I didn't want to know. I needed to get all of this out of my head, but I couldn't walk away. I had to stay. I had to listen. I had to smile. I had to shake hands. I had to hug people I did not know. I had to act as if I cared when all I wanted to do was find someplace quiet where I could be totally alone, where I could forget everything about this day, where I could be forgotten.
There were a few memories of those hours.
I remember Sue crying near uncontrollably. I remember J.T. walking her away.
I remember Jack nodding his head at me from across the room, acknowledging the state we were in, accepting that's the way things would be for awhile.
I remember Mr. Myers, Tommy's dad shaking my hand, saying he appreciated my mention of Tommy and telling me he knew this was a hard day for me.
I remember three families telling me that they rented homes from Rick and how kind he was to them, how much it meant to them to have a nice, clean home to live in. They were pensive, not sure of what the post Rick future would mean for them but I assured them nothing would change, it was the intention of Rick's family that they could continue to live in their homes. Their hugs of relief were the best hugs I had that day. They were true, honest and grateful.
I remember Greg Connors walking up to me, looking very sheepish, offering me a brownie. I remember Mark trying to not break down in laughter while watching Greg and me. I remember taking the brownie from Greg, taking a large bite, then grabbing Greg in a fierce, hard, desperate hug, then letting go and laughing hard. I remember tossing what was left of the brownie to Mark, who ate it in one gulp. I remember Greg laughing, all of us laughing about the brownies we had stolen from him in high school.
I remember the SouthWestern Tanks crew, Ray, Ned, Jim and Carey, talking to me quietly and respectfully, as if I was not the Drew they had taught the ropes of the business to years ago, as if I was someone else entirely, someone who deserved their respect. I don't think they had any idea of who I was.
The day did end. Mark and I did get drunk. So did Jack, Mike, Barry, Greg Connors, Jason, J.T., Art, James and Lyle. This was a private wake. We met at Art's house, drinking hard into the long evening. But I still remembered the day.
Tuesday morning Robert picked me up and we met with Houston Copeland and Kevin, our old accountant from the VP Tanks days. Robert signed papers for Houston and the insurance wheels started rolling. We talked with Kevin what had to be done to set up VP Charities, the foundation to use Rick's assets to help others. Robert and his parents had decided on the name. They felt Rick wouldn't want his name to be touted about and that using VP would be a nice homage to Rick and a nod to me as well. Robert also told me that his parents wanted me to be an official member of the board for VP Charities. I was honored and told Robert so.
Robert and I were finished with official business by noon and had a long lunch at Manuel's. I told Robert about Rick's come back. I told him about werd and dogmy. I didn't tell him everything. I told him dogmy was a trigger, a puzzle, and that I didn't know why it worked, but it did. Robert took it all in and told me he had noticed the chanting, the murmuring and other things Rick did, but never could figure it out. I think he knew I hadn't told him everything, but he didn't push.
To wrap up the day Robert and I met with my Uncle Bill at his office where Robert took official control of Rick's finances. Robert dropped me off at my Mom's house. We shook hands and said we would talk soon.
Wednesday morning on the way to the airport I dropped by the Anders' house. There wasn't much to say. I just wanted to see Mr. and Mrs. Anders before I left town. We promised to stay in touch. Mr. Anders walked me out to my car.
“I still don't know what you did that day. I don't need to know. But you brought back Rick and we will always be grateful for that. You need to be careful, you've got a family of your own to watch out for. Next time you're here you come by and bring your pretty wife with you.”
“Yes, sir. I will.”
“Now be safe and God bless you.”
He hugged me hard. I felt so much strength from that man, but when we let go what I saw was a man who had aged years in just a few days.
I drove to the airport, turned in my rental car and flew back to Houston. I was home before Ann had finished teaching for the day. Sam and Buster were glad to see me and I was glad to see them. Ann was home by 4:30. I walked out to meet her when she drove up. I held her close and long, just breathing her in. It had been a hard few days. I had been alone and lost but at least I now knew where I belonged.
Next week in episode 12 of Walking Backwards Drew and Mark try to help each other out but Drew isn’t sure if it’s working, and Drew, Ann, Buster and Sam welcome a new member to their family.
beautiful.....really beautiful