Free Family Blessings by Lavyrle Spencer Page A

hats, and his CDs . . .
    everything. It's not Stupid."
    "I know," she said, mollified. "But I'm so tired of crying."
    "Yeah," he replied softly, "we all are."
    "I might as well face his closet--is that what you're saying?"
    He nodded silently and led the way. At the doorway to Greg's room he stepped back and let her enter first. Lloyd had remained behind in the living room.
    She took in the room and said, "Was he always this neat?"
    "He said you forced him to be. Something about Thursday-morning cleaning."
    "Lord, how he hated it."
    "Didn't hurt him a bit though."
    Chris moved to the dresser. "He got a couple pieces of mail yesterday." He handed them to her. "And I went through his bills this morning. The ones we share for the apartment are taken care of. These are for other things."
    She glanced at them.
    "This one's for his motorcycle," she said and broke down again.
    He held her while she cried, held her hard and motionless, his own eyes dry, her hands clutching the back of his shirt with the envelopes bent in one. "Oh God," she whispered. "Oh God . .."
    It struck him while he stood strong for her, how often he'd held this woman in the past twenty-four hours, closer and longer than he'd held any woman for years. Being relied on by her felt fitting, and each time she turned to him he found his own sorrow eased. The process of grieving was so new to Christopher. He'd seen strangers grieve in the course of his nine years on the force. He'd had psychology courses on handling traumatized victims and their equally traumatized families, but this was the first time true grief had ever touched him. No grandparents, extended family or dear friends of any kind had ever been part of his life, so there'd been no tearful funerals for him. He doubted that when his own parents died he'd care much at all.
    This though--this was tough.
    Lloyd came to the door holding the green bill cap. His eyes met Christopher's over Lee's shoulder. He waited patiently, his face a map of sadness.
    Finally he shuffled into the room and sat down on the bed.
    "I've been thinking," he said, almost as if to himself. "The casket's going to be closed. Greg loved this cap the best. And he hardly ever wore dress suits when he was alive. What do you say we bury him in jeans and one of his favorite T-shirts and this cap? Lee, dear, what do-you think about that?"
    She drew herself out of Christopher's arms and fished for a tissue in her pocket. Wiping her eyes, she managed a snuffly laugh. "In blue jeans and that cap? Oh, Lloyd, you're priceless."
    "Well, what do you think?"
    "I think that's a wonderful idea."
    "Then let's pick a shirt. Chris, which one did he wear most?"
    After that it wasn't so hard, opening the closet door, leafing through Greg's clothes. They had interacted as a team, one supporting the other as emotions demanded, and by the time they left the apartment they recognized they'd done a fine job of conquering another hurdle.
    Lee said to Chris, "You're coming with us back to the house. You can't stay here alone."
    "Thanks, but actually I have to go to the Ford dealer and pick up a new Explorer I ordered. I was supposed to pick it up yesterday, but . .
    ."
    He shrugged. "I called the dealer and told him I'd be in to get it today."
    "Then you'll come over later?"
    He hesitated, afraid of spending too much time over there, getting in the family's way.
    "Listen, I don't think--" "Christopher, I insist. What are you going to do here? And besides, the neighbors have been bringing in so much food. Come on."
    "All right. I will."
    "Oh, I almost forgot. Will you do something for me?"
    "Anything."
    "Will you speak to your captain and express my thanks to him for offering to have the members of the police force act as pallbearers?
    Ask him to pick six of them--whomever he thinks.
    Greg liked a man named Ostrinski, and someone named Nokes."
    "Ostrinski and Nokes, sure."
    "And you, Christopher . .." She touched his hand. "If . . . if you want to, I'd be pleased to