Pallbearers by evets54 (best classic literature .txt) 📖

Pallbearers
by
Steve Helbling

Jason said, “I mean, what good would it do for me to cry?”

Stan whispered, “Christ, Jason, now is not the time to discuss it.” Stan was the middle pallbearer on the left. Jason walked directly behind him.

“What made you start to cry? We don't even know this person.”

“Dying is sad. People cry when they are sad. The people walking behind us are crying. It's contagious.”

“Well, I need more of a reason than that.”

The two pallbearers across from them looked at Jason. Stan didn't answer. He lowered his head and kept walking. The funeral procession wound along the narrow streets from St. Antoinette church to the village cemetery just outside of town on the bluff overlooking the Mediterranean Sea.

Jason persisted, “Besides, the average age of that crowd behind us is ninety-nine. They're crying because they know they might be next. We're filling in for Guido and Luigi back there because they can barely stand on their own two feet.”

The two boys had started the morning in Palina and hiked down the coast to catch the ferry in Marso. Around noon, they reached the tiny village of Lucia.. They dropped their packs at the center of the square, and Stan threw a coin in the fountain. “What are you wishing for?” asked Jason.

“I want our last week in Europe to be the best.”

“Good, better, best, it's all relative.”


As they started to leave, a priest approached them. “Sirs, “ he called, “Aiuto. Per favore.” After a few moments of gestures and explanation, they agreed to help, and he led them to the church.

***

Jason was tired. He thought that he carried most of the weight of the casket because of his height. Then, he noticed the two short guys in the front quivering and sweating. He was glad to see the entrance of the cemetery ahead. Olive laden, silver-gray trees lined the path. Over-ripe fruit had fallen to the ground. As he stepped, he made an effort to crush as many as possible. His thoughts drifted to going home.

Loud sobs from behind caused him to look up. They were passing through the gate of the cemetery.

At the grave, they placed the casket on a stand in front of a line of old folding chairs. A large wreath of flowers stood at one end. At the other end, a table displayed photographs of a beautiful young girl. Burning candles were interspersed among the photos.

Jason looked at Stan and said, “Jesus, she was just a kid. She looks like my little sister.”

A woman from the procession walked up to them. In turn, she took their hands, and while she held them, she pressed a rosary into their palms. “Grazie, grazie,” she wept. A salty breeze whipped over the top of the bluff and swirled around the crowd of mourners. The woman folded her hands and pleaded with the boys, “Preghi con noi. Preghi con noi.”

Hesitantly, Jason reached over, hugged the grieving woman, and prayed, “Our Father which art ....”

Then, he started to cry.

The End

Publication Date: 11-04-2009

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