thighs, his eyes never leaving the casket. I noticed his left hand twisting something on his right wrist. At first I thought it was his watch, but as I studied him further, I noticed it was one of those bracelets men wear these days, with the intricate cording design. He just kept twisting it and twisting it.
“Thank you, to everyone who came today.”
My study of Dylan had caused me to miss some of the words of the beautiful woman who now stood beside the casket. Her look was polished; her stance dignified, her hair pulled into a glossy, tight bun at the nape of her neck. Tall black shoes graced the ends of her perfectly slender legs. White pearls caressed her collarbone and finished off her cultured look.
“I know my dad would have gotten a big kick out of the turnout today.” Her red lips smiled, yet her glassy eyes indicated the sadness within her heart.
“For those of you who do not know me,” she said with confidence and extended her palms out to the crowd, “I’m Priscilla VanBuren-Morgan, the daughter of the man you have all come to honor and bid farewell today.” Her voice cracked as she spoke the last two words.
“Now, I can assure you, the last thing Daddy would want is for any of us to cry and pout over his death. He always said death was just another step in our journey. We should celebrate every step we take.” Several people around me nodded their heads in agreement. “So instead of telling you how great of a man my father was, I’m going to share with you a story not many people know.” She looked to the man sitting on the same pew as Dylan and winked at him; I dared not assume who he was.
“When I first married my husband, Dean, my daddy did as every good father does and gave him a warning of what would happen if he made me unhappy.” Priscilla clasped her hands in front of her, her enormous engagement ring glistening from the lights above. “Now Dean, being the educated man he is, swore up and down he would make me happy for the rest of my days.” The man she winked at earlier bowed his head and shook it several times. The man in the Marine uniform looked at him and smiled slightly, but Dylan’s eyes remain fixed on that coffin. “One day, Dean came home from his office and I informed him I wanted to start our family.” Priscilla was clearly a woman who needed her hands to tell a story. As she spoke of Dean, she pointed in his direction. “So we started preparing for the baby I wanted to have.” Her hand rested on her chest as she spoke. “We tried for nearly a year to expand our family and nothing happened. We sought out specialist after specialist and every single one of them could not find a single thing wrong with either one of us. So, we decided that when God was ready for us to have a family, it would happen.”
She paused a moment as if reliving the moment. “It was just after our tenth wedding anniversary and I was on my way to a luncheon, when my brand new car broke down.” Dean was now facing his wife, a stern look about his face. “I managed to pull over into a parking space just outside the Charleston County children’s home.” She pointed to her left indicating the direction. “Now, many of you are familiar with the location of the building, and you have to remember this was before cellphones were as common as they are now.”
I remembered having a little girl in the ER once who was staying at the home Priscilla spoke of. I asked Kitty about it and she explained it was a state funded facility where children were placed until they could find adoptive homes. She said it was in an older building in the downtown area, not a safe place to be after dark, she had warned.
“I knew Sister Mary Theresa, from this very church, was once one of the teachers over there.” Several people around me began to laugh. “I know, I know.” She raised her hand. “We all have stories about Sister Mary Theresa, but that is for another time.” She glanced at Father Nicholas who
“Thank you, to everyone who came today.”
My study of Dylan had caused me to miss some of the words of the beautiful woman who now stood beside the casket. Her look was polished; her stance dignified, her hair pulled into a glossy, tight bun at the nape of her neck. Tall black shoes graced the ends of her perfectly slender legs. White pearls caressed her collarbone and finished off her cultured look.
“I know my dad would have gotten a big kick out of the turnout today.” Her red lips smiled, yet her glassy eyes indicated the sadness within her heart.
“For those of you who do not know me,” she said with confidence and extended her palms out to the crowd, “I’m Priscilla VanBuren-Morgan, the daughter of the man you have all come to honor and bid farewell today.” Her voice cracked as she spoke the last two words.
“Now, I can assure you, the last thing Daddy would want is for any of us to cry and pout over his death. He always said death was just another step in our journey. We should celebrate every step we take.” Several people around me nodded their heads in agreement. “So instead of telling you how great of a man my father was, I’m going to share with you a story not many people know.” She looked to the man sitting on the same pew as Dylan and winked at him; I dared not assume who he was.
“When I first married my husband, Dean, my daddy did as every good father does and gave him a warning of what would happen if he made me unhappy.” Priscilla clasped her hands in front of her, her enormous engagement ring glistening from the lights above. “Now Dean, being the educated man he is, swore up and down he would make me happy for the rest of my days.” The man she winked at earlier bowed his head and shook it several times. The man in the Marine uniform looked at him and smiled slightly, but Dylan’s eyes remain fixed on that coffin. “One day, Dean came home from his office and I informed him I wanted to start our family.” Priscilla was clearly a woman who needed her hands to tell a story. As she spoke of Dean, she pointed in his direction. “So we started preparing for the baby I wanted to have.” Her hand rested on her chest as she spoke. “We tried for nearly a year to expand our family and nothing happened. We sought out specialist after specialist and every single one of them could not find a single thing wrong with either one of us. So, we decided that when God was ready for us to have a family, it would happen.”
She paused a moment as if reliving the moment. “It was just after our tenth wedding anniversary and I was on my way to a luncheon, when my brand new car broke down.” Dean was now facing his wife, a stern look about his face. “I managed to pull over into a parking space just outside the Charleston County children’s home.” She pointed to her left indicating the direction. “Now, many of you are familiar with the location of the building, and you have to remember this was before cellphones were as common as they are now.”
I remembered having a little girl in the ER once who was staying at the home Priscilla spoke of. I asked Kitty about it and she explained it was a state funded facility where children were placed until they could find adoptive homes. She said it was in an older building in the downtown area, not a safe place to be after dark, she had warned.
“I knew Sister Mary Theresa, from this very church, was once one of the teachers over there.” Several people around me began to laugh. “I know, I know.” She raised her hand. “We all have stories about Sister Mary Theresa, but that is for another time.” She glanced at Father Nicholas who
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