Death In The Family, A - James Agee [110]
“Come here, my darlings,” she said, and smiled, and squatted with her hands out towards them.
Rufus came shyly; Catherine ran. She took one of them in each arm.
“There, my darlings,” she said above them, “there, there, my dear ones. Mother’s here. Mother’s here. Mother has wanted to see you more, these last days; a lot more: she just—couldn’t, Rufus and Catherine. Just couldn’t do it.” When she said “couldn’t” she held them very tightly and they knew they were loved. “Little Catherine”—and she held Catherine’s head still more tightly to her—“bless her soul! and Rufus”—she held him away and looked into his eyes—“you both know how much Mother loves you, with all her heart and soul, all her life—you know, don’t you? Don’t you?” Rufus, puzzled but moved, nodded politely, and again she caught him to her. “Of course you do,” she said, as if she were not speaking to them. “Of course you do.
“Now,” she said, after a moment. She stood up and drew them by their hands to the bed. They sat down and she sat in a chair and looked at them for a few seconds without speaking.
“Now,” she said again. “I want to tell you about Daddy, because this morning, soon now, we’re all going down to Grampa’s and Grandma’s, and see him once more, and tell him good-bye.” Catherine’s face brightened; her mother shook her head and placed a quieting hand on Catherine’s knees, saying, “No, Catherine, it won’t be like you think, that’s what I must tell you about him. So listen very carefully, you too, Rufus.”
She waited until she was sure they were listening carefully.
“You both understand what has happened to Daddy, don’t you. That something happened in the auto, and God took him from us, very quickly, without any pain, and took him away to heaven. You understand that, don’t you?”
They nodded.
“And you understand, that when God takes you away to heaven you can never come back?”
“Never come back?” Catherine asked.
She stroked Catherine’s hair away from her face. “No, Catherine, not ever, in any way we can see and talk to. Daddy’s soul will always be thinking of us, just as we will always think of him, but we will never see him again, after today.” Catherine looked at her very intently; her face began to redden. “You must learn to believe that and know it, darling Catherine. It’s so.”
She seemed to be about to cry; she swallowed; and Catherine seemed to accept it as true.
“We’ll always remember him,” she told both of them. “Always. And he’ll be thinking of us. Every day. He’s waiting for us in heaven. And someday, if we’re good, when God comes for us, He’ll take us to heaven too and we’ll see Daddy there, and all be together again, forever and ever.”
Amen, Rufus almost said; then realized that this was not a prayer.
“But when we see Daddy today, children, his soul won’t be there. It’ll just be Daddy’s body. Very much as you’ve always seen him. But because his soul has been taken away, he will be lying down, and he will lie very still. It will be just as if he were asleep, so you must both be just as quiet as if he were asleep and you didn’t want to wake him. Quieter.”
“But I do,” said Catherine.
“But Catherine, you can’t, dear, you mustn’t even think of trying. Because Daddy is dead now, and when you are dead that means you go to sleep and you never wake up—until God wakes you.”
“Well when will He?”
“We don’t know, Rufus, but probably a long, long time from now. Long after we are all dead.”
Rufus wondered what was the good of that, then, but he was sure he should not ask.
“So I don’t want you to wonder about it, children. Daddy may seem very queer to you, because he’s so still, but that’s—just simply the way he’s got to look.”
Suddenly she pressed her lips tightly together and they trembled violently. She clenched her cheekbone against her left shoulder, squeezing their hands with her trembling hands, and tears slipped from her tightly shut eyes. Rufus watched her with awe, Catherine with forlorn worry. She suddenly hissed out, “Just-a-minute,” with