My Name Is River (19 page)

The beautiful, the beautiful river;

Gather with the saints at the river

That flows by the throne of God.

On the margin of the river,

Washing up its silver spray,

We will talk and worship ever,

All the happy golden day.

Ere we reach the shining river,

Lay we ev'ry burden down;

Grace our spirits will deliver,

And provide a robe and crown.

At the smiling of the river,

Mirror of the Savior's face,

Saints, whom death will never sever,

Lift their songs of saving grace.

Soon we'll reach the shining river,

Soon our pilgrimage will cease;

Soon our happy hearts will quiver

With the melody of peace.

Yes, we'll gather at the river,

The beautiful, the beautiful river;

Gather with the saints at the river

That flows by the throne of God.

Pastor Henry looks out across our ecotone and thanks everyone for coming. “This couldn't have been a better way to celebrate Billy's life. Thanks for sharing it with us.” Then he takes a hanky from his back pocket and blows his nose. He honks louder than a Canada goose and scares a bluebird right out of its house. Billy would have laughed hysterically.

Everyone else leaves because only Billy's family is invited to the cemetery. Mrs. Whippoorwill reminds me and Gram that we're family.

Before we leave, I walk over to the edge of the river and look down. I want to see Billy there, calling up to me. “Hey, River, can you give me a hand please? I'm fine! Just toss the rope and pull me up.” But instead of seeing Billy, I see something long and shiny glistening in the sun. It's hanging off a root. I bend down and have to lie on my stomach to reach it, but I'm not worried about my dress getting dirty. I stretch my arm as far as I can and grab hold of it. It's after I get back up and open my hand that I realize what I'm holding. My body suddenly feels scared and shaky as I picture Robert walking along the river with his leather wallet sticking out of his pocket and hooked to that long, silver chain—a piece of it now in my hand. As I quickly wrap it in toilet paper and tuck it in my purse, our pinky-swear words spin over and over in my head. “Pinky, pinky, grip real tight. A promise told will not lose hold, but break your word, you'll break our bond. It's pinky swear or death beware.”

24

Yellow Roses

P
astor Henry drives us to the cemetery in his big white van. He follows close behind the black hearse, where Billy's coffin is.

Little Forrest calls out, “Mama, where's Billy? How come he not here?” She tells him he's in heaven now, helping God. I close my eyes and imagine Billy making a birding place in heaven, right along a beautiful river that flows gently with silver water. There are bluebirds all around him. Their feathers are the truest blue, their wings are like angels' wings, and they're singing songs that could make the saddest person feel hopeful.

Forrest cries out again, “Mama, I want Billy.”

She rubs his back. “I know, Forrest. I know.”

At the cemetery four men, dressed in suits, pull Billy's casket out of the hearse and carry it to his grave. They set him right beside the big hole. It doesn't seem like Billy could really be in a casket. I want to open the lid so Billy can pop out and yell, “Surprise!” But Billy would never do such a dumb thing. But if he did, you can be sure Pastor Henry would make him do more than polish church pews.

Billy's grandparents, aunts, uncles, and all his cousins are here too. Uncle Jay didn't bring his camera (I guess people don't take pictures at funerals—dead people don't smile, and neither does anyone else who has to be there). But it might not be a bad idea to have a few pictures because what if a few days from now, or even in a week or two, you start wondering if that person really is dead. You might think it's just been a bad dream, so at least pictures would be proof.

Pastor Henry stands by Billy's casket and opens his Bible. “Psalm 23. The L
ORD
is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the L
ORD
forever.” He closes his Bible.

“Billy was a gift from God,” he says, “a gift that was with us for twelve short years. The earthly part of me wants to shout, ‘He wasn't with us long enough! I'm not ready to say goodbye!' But then I hear the quiet voice of God say, ‘My ways are higher than yours. Trust me. I will be with you.' Will we miss him? Of course we will. Will we feel pain we think we can't endure? Without a doubt. Will God give us the strength to make it through? He made a promise.”

Pastor Henry bows his head. “Dear heavenly Father, we thank you for Billy. He loved his family, his friends, and all your creation. We ask that you be with us. Give us the strength to go on. We thank you that we have your promise of seeing him again someday.”

Billy's headstone is real big, and it has a picture of him carved
on the front. He's smiling his crooked smile. Next to his picture, it says:

W
ILLIAM
F
ORREST
W
HIPPOORWILL

Born November 11, 1970

He went home to be with his heavenly Father on

June 15, 1983

Son of Henry and Elizabeth

Oldest brother of Nathan, Daniel, Bethany, Hannah, Rebecca, and Forrest

Best friend of River

I start crying and can't stop. Uncle Jay pulls me close. He feels like a warm flannel blanket wrapped around me so tight that nothing could ever hurt me. I don't want him to ever let go.

At the very bottom of Billy's headstone is a Bible verse:

Romans 14:8

If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die for the Lord. So then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord's.

The men dressed in suits lower Billy's casket into the ground. We each take a handful of dirt, and one by one, toss it on top of his casket. I hate the empty sound. I'm glad Billy can't hear it. It must be dark and lonely in there, but Billy doesn't even know it. Only the outside part of Billy is there—the dead part, the part that can't feel or see or move or breathe. The living part of Billy is in heaven, hanging out with God.

After everyone throws their dirt, we walk around his headstone to the other side where there's more writing. I run my fingers over the words. They feel cold and lonely and hopeful all at the same time. My fingers trace each word:

All things bright and beautiful,

All creatures great and small,

All things wise and wonderful,

The Lord God made them all.

Each little flower that opens,

Each little bird that sings,

He made their glowing colors,

He made their tiny wings.

I begin to think about wings, not the kind birds have, but the big, flowing kind that angels have, and how they let you fly. If everyone in heaven gets wings, I hope Billy gets two strong ones that work. I want him to be able to fly.

Mrs. Whippoorwill hands each little Whippoorwill a yellow rose. She says they represent the promise of a new beginning. She hands me one too. Then one at a time, each little Whippoorwill goes over to Billy's grave and drops their rose in. After Mrs. Whippoorwill helps Forrest, I walk over and let mine go. “Goodbye, Billy,” I say. “See you in heaven.” We walk away, singing the last part of “Amazing Grace.”

Amazing grace! how sweet the sound!

That saved a wretch like me!

I once was lost, but now am found;

Was blind, but now I see.

The Lord has promised good to me,

His Word my hope secures;

He will my shield and portion be,

As long as life endures.

Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,

And mortal life shall cease,

I shall possess within the veil,

A life of joy and peace.

When we've been there ten thousand years,

Bright, shining as the sun,

We've no less days to sing God's praise

Than when we first begun.

25

Little Bird on My Lip

G
ram's clock struck midnight a long time ago. It's pitch black, and I'm lying in bed with thoughts racing around my head like lab rats in a maze trying to find their way out. Every thought is of Billy, and I can't find a place where everything is quiet. I think about Pastor Henry and Mrs. Whippoorwill and how all the little Whippoorwills are going to miss Billy every night when he's not there to read to them. Nathan will have to take over. He's the oldest now.

I think about me and wonder what I'll do without him. I think about the birding place, and then I remember the chain. How did Robert's chain end up hanging off a root? Was he fishing there? He couldn't have been—he said he'd never stand on that edge. Then I think about how mean and strange he acted when me and Billy did our presentation. He was so mad at Billy for not telling about the BBs. Robert's been mad enough before to throw a rock through a church window. I wonder if he was mad enough to push Billy over the edge of the Meadowlark River.

All the pieces shift around my head and slowly fit together like a puzzle. But there's one piece missing—Billy. Robert has so much darkness in him that I think he could've pushed him. And if he did, Billy would have reached for something to grab onto but only got hold of a piece of Robert's chain. It could have broken, fallen off his wallet, and got caught on the root when it dropped over the
edge. Robert would've gotten scared and run away. But one thing he doesn't know—God was there and saw what happened. God was with Billy the whole time. He didn't die alone.