“The power of God on earth,” he shouted into the mouthpiece. “That’s
what these oils are: God’s pharmacy!”
The noise in the house was disorienting, so I took Drew up the mountain.
We strolled through fields of wild wheat and from there into the skirt of pines
at the mountain base. The fall colors were soothing and we stayed for hours,
gazing down at the quiet valley. It was late afternoon when we finally made
our way back to the house and Drew left for Salt Lake City.
I entered the Chapel through the French doors and was surprised by the
silence. The house was empty, every phone disconnected, every workstation
abandoned. Mother sat alone in the center of the room.
“The hospital called,” she said. “Grandma’s gone.”
My father lost his appetite for the business. He started getting out of bed later
and later, and when he did, it seemed it was only to insult or accuse. He
shouted at Shawn about the junkyard and lectured Mother about her
management of the employees. He snapped at Audrey when she tried to make
him lunch, and barked at me for typing too loudly. It was as if he wanted to
fight, to punish himself for the old woman’s death. Or maybe the punishment
was for her life, for the conflict that had been between them, which had only
ended now she was dead.
The house slowly filled again. The phones were reconnected, and women
materialized to answer them. Dad’s desk remained empty. He spent his days
in bed, gazing up at the stucco ceiling. I brought him supper, as I had as a
child, and wondered now, as I’d wondered then, whether he knew I was
there.
Mother moved about the house with the vitality of ten people, mixing
tinctures and essential oils, directing her employees between making funeral
arrangements and cooking for every cousin and aunt who dropped in
unannounced to reminisce about Grandma. As often as not I’d find her in an
apron, hovering over a roast with a phone in each hand, one a client, the other
an uncle or friend calling to offer condolences. Through all this my father
remained in bed.
Dad spoke at the funeral. His speech was a twenty-minute sermon on
God’s promises to Abraham. He mentioned my grandmother twice. To
strangers it must have seemed he was hardly affected by the loss of his
mother, but we knew better, we who could see the devastation.