‘A Decent Burial’: Short Fiction
Sibling jealousy can resurface, even at the end of life
Lifelong jealousy can transcend even death, unless kept in check. Chuck Teixeira of San Francisco explores this idea in his short fictionalized memoir, “A Decent Burial,” as a man experiences his brother’s last moments of life, and how he and other family members react after his death. In Boomer’s From Our Readers.
My older brother and I lived on opposite coasts and saw little of each other. That weekend I was visiting his home because I had heard that his health was failing. I wanted to see him before he passed. Initially I was going to tease about his discourse having declined into near-fascist talking points. But as my travel approached, a wrenching within my chest compelled focus on thanking him for letting me live in his home while I was in college and, after I finished school, for taking care of our mother while I was running my life into the ground.
To thank him sincerely, I had to weed out resentment over differences. I know I succeeded in conveying that gratitude because he had already prepared an unsentimental retort. As soon as I referred to my years living under his roof, he said, “I was always looking for ways to throw you out; it’s your sister-in-law who loved you.”
It was hard to think of my beautiful sister-in-law as my brother’s widow. But she became that as soon as my nephew, John, their eldest son, a physician, stopped trying to detect a pulse. He had been moving the pressure strap up and down the left arm, inflating the cuff, then pulling it loose. Finally, he tossed it aside and burst into tears.
Each of us had reason to believe that my brother, though physically inert, remained aware of his surroundings. He was listening with attention that was other-worldly acute; his spirit was still in the room. We held hands as we encircled the bed. I can’t recall which of his children said what. But things like this were said: “Go toward the light, Dad.” “Loved ones who’ve gone before are waiting for you.” “You’re headed for heaven; don’t turn back now and risk messing up again.”
That last urging puzzled me because I was in the dark about any earlier mess.
A few more filial ejaculations, then my sister-in-law suggested we sing my brother’s favorite songs. Everyone knew “You Are My Sunshine.” But they looked toward me for the words to “Old Smoky.” I called them out correctly until green willow tree. “I don’t remember the rest,” I said, “I’m sorry.”
My sister-in-law came to the rescue with the leaves they will wither. That knocked free in my memory the roots they will die followed by the final admonition about being forsaken and never knowing why. Hoping to have pleased my brother, we applauded his arriving in heaven and avoiding a return to indiscretion or sin.
There are many other things to applaud in my brother’s life: from decorated military service to a distinguished career on the bench, a 70-year marriage, a large family extending beyond successful children to successful grandchildren and even to great grandchildren. Also, on many occasions, he had driven his Arctic Cat to rescue people stranded in cars that had skidded off the road during heavy snows.
From a healthy heart, these achievements elicit admiration. In mine, jealousy threatened to turn a brother’s passing into a family tableau in which I am the sad central figure.
Eventually, we had to call the funeral home to remove my brother’s body, mystic ears and all.
Through sobs, John, the physician, insisted we hold off for those who had been out of the house on errands. They deserved the chance to come back and offer their own goodbyes.
I was still wondering about the earlier mess that might have barred my brother’s entry into heaven. Exploring its entrails might deliver the satisfaction of his having failed even scandalously in at least one endeavor. Despite this itch to find out, respect restrained my curiosity, my blind rage. I never probed for details, and, so far, they have not come to light.
Read more like Chuck Teixeira’s short fiction, “A Decent Burial,” and other contributions from Boomer readers, including nostalgia, essays, and short fiction, in
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