It was a good run, said Henry.
He outlasted a lot of them, said Jill.
The problem now was what to do with him. He had stipulated nothing. There were no instructions. Nothing had been said. There was nothing on paper. Nobody had bothered to ask. Why would they, it was not a question, or a litany of questions that one would have put forth in a conversation. If there had been any understanding that understanding had not been communicated. Space became a question. Where became an even more salient question. But these two questions led to a myriad of other questions, and all together these questions could not be answered extemporaneously, only time could bring transparency. And if one question could be answered this answer would only lead to more questions.
Bloody good heels he had, said Toby.
Only the day before me daddy and me devoured lovely eggs and bacon off that table, said Keith.
Laws appeared, and they perplexed and obstructed any trajectory. These laws did not suddenly appear ex nihilo, everybody knew there were laws. They had not been obfuscated, only forgotten. But they were ambiguous; this ambiguity was more naivety than stupidity. Through consequences of laws there arose many opportunities for exploitation, a smile metamorphosed for some into a Machiavellian smirk, those who shied away were accused of impassivity, coldness, of being void of feelings. At another juncture fights, melees, brouhahas would have taken place, but because of the cloud of religion (though many were not religious), because of the sanctimony, because now was a time of unexplored emotions, stances, now that all were transported on to a new stage, foreign, a façade appeared that allowed not even the slightest fraction of incongruity and dishevel.
Hello Father, said Kate.
Hello Father, said Toby.
For some afterwards led to much anticipation, when their anticipation became opaque, this led others to question their motives, their emotions, even their loyalty. But all this was inexorably overshadowed once the fiscal matter presented itself.
A glass father? asked Henry.
That would be grand! bellowed Father Caomhánaigh.
What a strange specter it was that loomed upon them. This specter laid its fingers upon them and divided them. Never had music been such a problem, but now it became a consequence of more than taste, it stood for something substantial, a little ditty would transmute into some musical tantamount to the greatest of Wagner. If a compromise could be found over the music, a labyrinthine odyssey would have to be traveled. The thought of playing a multiple array of different music was suggested, but the obtrusive specter now also became obdurate, as only time can be, but it also turned out to be the answer. Each song would be limited to a finite amount of time.
Another glass father? asked Toby.
For my legs! bellowed Father Caomhánaigh.
The ground was laid, a phone call finalized, but there appeared another quandary, a nexus. For some the sanctity of the act became overwhelming. The necessary step for the individual to reach that ineffable goal aided by song, prayer and chant became a cause. This had the antithetical effect for some developed the idiosyncrasy of the Rabelaisian, what changes and phenomena had taken place within and without the body, was there an erection, an eruption, defecation, would the fingernails, hair still grow, would gas be expelled on the day, these questions were passed surreptitiously, for the inquirers knew that such inquiries could lead to troubles. One said, although facetiously, but it led to an important discussion, that in Gulliver’s Travels, the Lilliputians buried their dead upside down, Bloom’s ratiocination about burial in Hades was elucidated.
Glasnevin Cemetery , said Peter.
A lovely pint of the black stuff in the Gravediggers you can get, said Father Caomhánaigh.
But the rats, the worms, the maggots, the putrid, the sludge, the reek, inevitably the macabre led to flowers, here a land of superfluous ostentation was entered, blooming and blossoming, but for those who considered themselves wisely frugal, who took pavonine satisfaction in their acumen had to bend, it was through a compound of the scared, pretension –– peer pressure was too much for them. The idea of flowers, mushroomed, fecundated, led once again to uncharted paths. But this floral sidestep could not obscure the thoughts that permeated of the decomposing of the organization. The viscosity, solidity, the substance, the changes, the mildew, the mold, was a theater.
Those are maggots that were his eyes, said Jill.
Let’s have some music, said Henry.
So fire was settled on. The flames. Ashes could be easily handled. The ashes could be scattered, space, where could easily be settled now. This answered the fiscal concerns of many. Now there was much joy, yes, happiness, the thought that they had all come together, finally, led to understanding, also the fire for some allowed them to back step and consider their plans about the flowers. What would be the point, some said, although with great respect and timidity. This whisper, for it was nothing more than a whisper, a tête-à-tête, became an avalanche. Even the music selection could be pared down. Here again a wave of joy undulated over them all. Feelings were now ameliorated. Now that the fundamentals had been seen to, sorted, compartmentalized, the drinks and food could be laid out.
Custard is yellow, said Keith.
It wasn’t long before he was boxed. They stood in silence and watched his last journey. Somebody disturbed the silence with a blow of the nose. Other than this malapropos expulsion of spirits through two nasal cavities, the funeral was considered an accomplishment.
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