One of my custodians found out in August that he had pancreatic cancer. Unfortunately, the cancer was in the late stages. The staff and parents of Green Year-Round pulled together to donate money, and leave days so he could continue to draw a salary despite the illness. This generosity and care-giving culture is one of the many reasons I truly feel Green is a special place.
Recently, Mr. Cook passed away at Rex Hospital while in hospice care. He was not an employee long but was a valued member of our school community. He was often quick with a kind word, a smile or a joke. He had an easy-going manner and was well liked by the staff members and students at Green. He will be missed.
The service was held at the Jenkins Missionary Chapel in Snead’s Ferry, North Carolina. Snead’s Ferry is a good 3 1/2 hours away but I really wanted to attend the funeral to show support from the Green community for Mr. Cook’s family. Any trip to Eastern North Carolina has the potential for adventure; the following is in no way meant as disrespectful to a hard working friend and coworker recently passed away.
Outside the borders of Raleigh, one takes a small trip back in time the closer to the coast one ventures. Traffic often slowed on the Eastward journey as tractors constantly veered into the road reminding everyone that the economy of North Carolina is high tech. industry and largely agriculture.
The sun was shining as I entered the highway stop known as Beulaville. Could I make up that name? Finally, a new reason to slow down. Good Christian women were busily attaching holly to the sides of flat bed trucks, horses were being brushed, and families were setting up lawn chairs on the side of the road in anticipation of what must be the Buelaville Christmas Parade…let us not forget the Harley’s being polished and the mini cars for the Kiwanis revving up…who doesn’t love a Christmas fez. I’m sure this stretch of the highway will be diverted until the parade has passed.
Three hours after leaving Raleigh (and about 20 years into the past) I came to Jacksonville and missed a turn off. I had completely circled the military base before realizing that I was on the wrong road. The nicest surprise about Jacksonville (besides a reminder that tattoo parlors and pawn shops are bred by military bases) was the string of signs along the fences of off base housing. The signs welcomed back different divisions and different soldiers as well as conveyed sentiments of longing for those still overseas. Not since the AIDS memorial quilt had I seen such an outpouring of public emotion. The emotions are not the same (the AIDS quilt being a remembrance and outpouring of grief and these signs infused with a sense of hope) but the intensity of both certainly left an impact. This was very touching, and definitely a reminder of the terrible tolls of war.
Well, I finally found my way to Jenkin’s Missionary Church in Snead’s Ferry. After my detour, I was 1/2 hour late and had to park in a field. Weddings and funerals are heavily culturally embedded rituals, and never was this fact truer than in a small African-American church in rural Eastern North Carolina. This is the portion of the tale in which our protagonist experiences the fish-out-of-water phenomenon. I’ve been in many situations in which I was the only non-person of color, but never was this more apparent than at this funeral.
Walking in late, my goal was to be as inconspicuous as possible. The ushers, elderly African-American women in all white dresses with white gloves and white shoes, quickly got me a folding chair. Clearly, my attempts at slipping in quietly were in vain. The service certainly slowed not a bit, but my presence in the overcrowded small sanctuary seemed to be acknowledged by the choir, the minister, the deacons, the soloist and all who were facing from the stage, as well as a few congregants who happened to turn their heads to view the late comers. The emotion was the same from all, a quizzical look on the faces and then a silent inner reminder and magnanimity that all are welcome to cross cultural boundaries to share in grief.
The most touching aspect of the service was that there were so many of Mr. Cook’s family, friends and community members supporting the family. The coffin was surrounded by flowers and wreathes sending thoughts of sympathy and love.
The service was in full swing as I entered and punctuated by a continuous litany of audience members shouting out “Amens” and “Praise Jesuses”. The music was lively and belted out by a full chorus and a talented male soloist. During different parts of the service, congregants stood to provide testimony regarding their association with Mr. Cook and the meaning Mr. Cook brought to their lives.
The daughters of Mr. Cook stood to each read a self-written poem. Both were poised and stately. The poetry was honest and from the heart and conveyed a sense of missed opportunities with their father as well as profound grief. The ushers passed out many tissues during this portion of the service.
The minister began the 23rd Psalm for his service, “The lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…” The minister related this Biblical passage to Mr. Cook’s life and reminded us that we should be happy for Mr. Cook, as he knows Mr. Cook has gone on to “greener pastures”. The minister dragged us through the service with an excited and fervent cadence designed to take the congregants through a roller coaster ride of peaks and valleys. The sermon would build to a crescendo; the minister then would bring the cadence down to a reverent hush. All in all, the service was a respectful testament and celebration to life, and more importantly and comforting for the family, a testament to the after-life.
After the wonderful emotional ride, the congregants were invited to the graveside service as well as an evening meal in the social hall of the church. We all filed out past the open coffin, not a preferred exit for myself, as I’m sure my discomfort with this was evident on my face.
I met up with my fellow staff members (custodians and cafeteria workers) to share in our grief, to discuss the best method for returning to Raleigh and for introductions to Mr. Cook’s family. Words always seem inadequate, especially when trying to comfort a grief stricken family member. Perhaps it isn’t the actual words, rather the amount of love and support willingly given from the person delivering the words.
As I left, I jealously marveled at the ability of Christians to place all of their faith in the will of God. As a devout agnostic, I place my faith in more humanistic endeavors. This is little comfort when dealing with grief and hardship. I think I would enjoy the type of faith that inspires good Christian women to glue-gun holly to the side of a flat bed truck, to attend prayer services with mushroom soup infused covered dishes in hand every Wednesday night, and to exclaim, as Ms. Renita (Green’s cafeteria cashier) did at the funeral of Mr. Cook, “It was a beautiful homecoming”. No truer words were ever said.
I had drinks with some of the finest educators I know...at the end of my career, barring any scandelous happenings between now and then, these are the people whose seal of approval I will surely seek. Each has a special place in my repertoire of mentors. These are my colleagues, friends and moral compasses. Thanks guys, let's not wait so long to get drinks again. Next time we'll pick a spot where not all of the staff is one of Kelly's present or former students. Sorry Kelly, it's going to be hard to support your DARE program this way isn't it? 