Just Cry, Mama

We got in the car. I don’t remember who drove.
Maybe I drove. The time had arrived. Whether they had
Phoned or we just knew what time we could go over there
I also don’t remember. We parked and got out of the
Car. I guess we were fairly well-dressed. You don’t
Go to a funeral home looking sloppy. I’d been to these
“homes” before so I wasn’t afraid. But this circumstance
Was entirely different. Extremely close to home, hitting
A nerve. (It’s somebody else it always happens to.) In
The foyer we were met by the owner, who directed us
To a room on our left. That’s where the body in the
Coffin was. We reluctantly walked in and saw “it”
On the other side of the room against a wall. Mama and
I walked over there holding each other. The lid was up.
He was my nephew and looked bigger and older than
I’d thought he’d look although he was only seven. I’d
Felt a lot of pain and pity for my brother and his family
for days now. Never had I seen or heard my strong mother
Cry with such abandon. How helpless I knew she felt
And how all of us in the family felt. I was young and
Hadn’t learned that the God of the good times is also the
God of the bad times, as the song says. I know it
Nowadays, though, and accept it fully. I’m glad I never
Heard my mother cry that way again. It was awful. “Just
cry, Mama. Go ahead and cry.” Maybe that was what I’d
said to her. I don’t quite remember. Frankly, for the
longest time I didn’t want to.