Jeezezzuh

It all begins, like it always begins, at a funeral.

***

“Hi Aunt Sandie,” I said. She held the hug longer than I did. Her face was gaunt and her eyes were slightly puffed and red; and I could tell she had been crying.

She held my face between her hands. “Do you need a drink, a beer, vodka?”

“No thanks.”

“I have anti-depressants,” she offered.

“I’m ok, really.”

“Don’t hold it in Scotty. You’re going to need something. Are you sure you don’t want a beer? It will take the edge off.”

“Everything I need is right in here,” I said, pointing to my heart.

***

We sat in the waiting room—waiting. My aunt and uncle doubtless wishing they could have a smoke. But the god damn liberals had taken over the world. My cousins Tracy and Trisha were there too, looking about them like snared hares, wild eyed, fidgeting—nervous.

The doctor was East Indian, stoic and cock-sure. He pronounced, “Your mother’s cancer has spread from her lungs through the esophagus and into the brain, and down into the pancreas and liver. She will not wake up again.”

Tracy and Trisha burst into tears while I stared at the doctor. The news was expected, as my mother was in ICU with a tube through her mouth and into her lungs, artificially injecting air that she was no longer capable of processing without it. The doctor was numb to the histrionics.

I met his unaffected gaze with one of my own. “She was a three-pack-a-day smoker.”

Tracy stopped crying as if a switch had flipped. “My mom and dad both smoke. Could they get cancer too?”

The doctor replied, “Yes, of course.”

“But, but, but w-what if they quit now?” Tracy asked, looking at her mother now.

“It might already be too late.”

***

“Have you accepted Jeezezzuh as your personal savior,” Chaz asked, as if Jesus was Texan.

Not a hair was out of place. He was blonde and of medium build, and quite handsome in that Houstonian way. I wasn’t ready to lay it all on him right now. “My faith is a personal matter that I do not wish to share.”

His eyes seemed to become perfectly round as they misted over, as ice will do on the first day of warm weather. “I know that it’s hard for you to understand right now, but God has a plan for your mother, just like he has a plan for all of us. She is with Him now, and she couldn’t be in better hands.” He glowed like Captain Kirk in a love scene.

A little ball of hot butter rolled in my chest, and my teeth clamped together. “Frankly, it’s of no comfort to me that God has a plan for my mother or not, because I think it stinks. My mother is dead, so she is no longer involved in my plans, or those of her grandchild’s. My personal salvation is not the issue, and I’ll thank you to keep your focus on my mother’s eulogy. No disrespect intended.”

“I understand,” he said with a kind smile, but I could hear the disappointment in his voice, and the resolve.

***

“Hi Scotty, its Trisha!”

Her husband’s name I saw on caller id, but I acted surprised as I always do when someone calls. “Trish!”

“Wow,” she said, “how long has it been?”

“I know. Hey, I heard about your dad. I’m sorry.”

She didn’t say anything, so I continued. “I talked to Tracy, and she said that he has lung cancer.”

“When did you talk to her last?”

“It seems like a month ago.”

“Ohhh.”

“How long does he have?”

“The doctors give him one year, two at the most.”

“How did he take the news?”

“He was very upset, and was crying all the time. But now he feels a lot better because he found God.”

Internal groan. “I’ll bet he did.” There are no atheists in a fox hole I thought to myself. “I have to say Trish that you and Tracy seem to be taking this very well.”

“Well, I know this is going to sound funny…”

“Ok.”

“Tracy has been sending dad some tapes, and he came out here and met with Chaz. Chaz put his hands on his chest and felt the cancer inside. I know how it sounds Scotty, but Chaz healed him.”

“As in your dad doesn’t have cancer anymore?”

“I know what you’re thinking, and I would think the same thing, but yes, I truly believe it. When my dad goes to the doctor, the doctor is going to tell him that the cancer is gone.”

“That does sound a bit far fetched, but I hope you are right Trish.”

“I know it won’t prove anything to anyone, as the assumption will be that he was misdiagnosed, but I already believe.”

Maybe Chaz can bring my mother back to life.

***

Any plans of moving to Houston have been cancelled. I love my family, and there is nothing wrong with faith in a deity, but God rests within me, and he is me, and he is my children and my wife and my friends, and sometimes the man who isn’t lying when he says he needs money for a beer. He was my coach the congratulated me for scoring my only touchdown, the one who laughingly told me to jog as I almost tripped over second base in my haste when I hit one into the weeds. He’s every bit of joy and sorrow in my life. He is me, and he will die someday too.