The Private Viewing

August 7, 2024

Today I finally get to see my son.

I don’t know what to say.

I don’t know what to do.

I’ve been wanting to see him since the day he died and now I can barely move.

Yesterday I told my daughter, Justice, that the private viewing would take place today. I told her we would pick her up at 9am in order to make sure we would arrive at the funeral home by ten.

I began calling her at 7am but she didn’t pick up the phone. I continued to call every fifteen minutes but still no answer. Of course, as a mom, I began to worry about her.

Was she okay?

Did something happen?

What’s going on?

“This isn’t like her at all. I know she wouldn’t miss seeing her brother” I said to Cindy.

My sister-mom told me to take some deep breaths and assured me that Justice was okay.

“She’s probably sleeping and doesn’t hear her phone ringing. She’s grieving too.” she said.

I eventually calmed down and agreed, thinking maybe it was too much for her to see John today. Everything happens for a reason.

John’s daughter, Kammy, wouldn’t be going either. I discussed it with her mom and we both decided seeing her daddy lying in a casket two days in a row would be too much for an eight-year-old to handle.

So, it was just us three; Ronnie, my sister-mom and me.

We arrived at the funeral home a little after 10am.

I was crying before we even reached the front door.

We stepped into the lobby and were greeted by Ms. Davis who pointed to the double wooden doors and said John was inside the chapel but to have a seat because she first needed to speak to Mr. Caliman and then she would return to let us inside.

Ronnie and I sat down on the two chairs facing the double wooden doors. I looked at the small sign which hung on the wall to the right of the door and read my son’s name.

“John Leon Wilks”

The tears began to flow.

I cannot believe my son’s body is just beyond that door.

No sooner had that thought crossed my mind than Ms. Davis came from around the corner and said, “Okay, are you ready to go in now?”

Without hesitation, I said “No”

“I’m not ready.”

I sat there for a few minutes trying to breathe.

Ronnie hugged me and held my hand.

After a few deep breaths I then said, “Okay. I guess I’m ready now.”

Before we opened the door, Ms. Davis explained the tribute video would begin playing once we were inside so we could view it and if anything needs to be changed to let her know before we leave.

With that being said, Ronnie opened the door and led me inside. Cindy followed.

I looked down the long aisle and there he was, lying in that black casket with the beautiful spray of red carnations and white carnations with black tips place on top.

“Oh, John” I cried, “Oh John.”

I sobbed so loud, I’m sure everyone in the building heard me.

He looked so handsome dressed in his fatigues.

So handsome.

When I reached his casket, I did all the things a mother would do.

I rubbed his face.

I kissed his forehead.

I touched his chest.

I fixed his collar because it wasn’t lying flat.

I held his hands.

I said I love you a million times.

I said “I’m so sorry” a million times more.

“Why, God, Why?”

And I cried.

And cried.

And cried.

Ronnie held me in his arms as I said, “I can’t believe he’s gone! I can’t believe he’s gone!”

I was overcome with so much emotion I felt weak and a little dizzy, so I sat down.

Ronnie then stood in front of John’s casket alone and spoke to him, father to son.

I’m not sure what he said to him, but he stood there a long time, talking, wiping his face, and shaking his head in disbelief.

We still can’t believe we’re here.

Cindy stood to the right of me and was crying too. She rubbed my back, handed me some tissue and then pointed to the screen above where John lay as the tribute video began to play.

I cried ever more when I saw the very first picture with John’s death date.

I’m gutted.

“My son is gone! My son is gone!” I cried.

We then heard the music playing as each picture flashed before our eyes. I noticed it wasn’t “Gone Too Soon” as I had hoped it would be, but the thought quickly left my mind as I looked at the pictures and began to reflect on all the happy memories.

When I saw the last picture on the video of John and Kammy walking on that bridge at the end, I put my face in my hands and sobbed.

I looked at John in the casket and back up at that last picture of him holding his precious daughter’s hand.

“He’s really gone” I said, “He’s really gone.”

“It’s the end.”

We sat there with John for the next hour. Talking to him, watching the video, and reminiscing on the good times when he was alive. I wanted to sit there forever but I knew it had to end.

Ms. Davis quietly walked in to check on us. She asked if we were satisfied with John and the video. I told her “yes, you did a beautiful job.”

She then asked me to please come by her office before we leave in order to make the payment, and I also needed to go over the program before it’s sent to the printer.

We sat there for about fifteen more minutes just looking at him.

I then stood up, walked over to his casket, and kissed him on his forehead. I noticed the area around his temple didn’t look quite right and neither did his ear.

I sighed, kissed his forehead again and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow son” as I wiped away more tears.

“I love you.”

“Always and forever and forever more.”