The Sacred Pavilion

By George Lynn

This story is basically a tragic love story, encompassing illness, the suffering there from, death, deep adoration of a couple for each other, and self-sacrifice to ensure a loved one survives from the failure of defeating loss from a disease. It is highly emotional, contains no violence or sex, has no harsh language, or intended cruelty

• Language: English
• Publisher: George Lynn
• Release date: May 17, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301709144

Book preview

The Sacred Pavilion

By George Lynn

Published by George Lynn at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 George Lynn

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

George Lynn

The Sacred Pavilion

Chapter 1

Eighteen year old Mathew Garrison stood beside his father, clasping one of his cold hands in both of his own. His older brother Brody held his arm around him on the other side. They huddled together in the cold, February wind, which howled and gusted flurries into the tent, which offered no help at all in sheltering them from the harsh weather. The year was 1969.

Some distance off to the left, a view of the tall white bell tower of the church on Altamonte Avenue was visible through the heavily falling snow as it overlooked the graveyard where they now gathered. He had lived in Thurmont all of his life, as had his mother and brother, less than ten miles south of the Pennsylvania border. Now, their mother would remain here forever.

Everyone close enough to see had tears in their eyes and on their faces, but father was the worst of all. The death of his life’s partner seemed even harder on him than it was on the two boys or anyone else. Matt looked down on the flower-covered closed casket in front, unable to stop thinking.

He’d been close with his mother, had become even more so after they had learned of her illness. There were many times they had talked long into the night during the time she’d fought it, well past the time father had gone to bed. Somewhere over the final months, Matt had made the amazing discovery that of all the people in their family, his dying mother was the least distressed concerning her forthcoming death.

It had changed Matt’s attitude, his thinking, preparing him for the day in which he found himself standing by her graveside, much more so than his father and brother. He could easily recall the conversation that had taken place between the two of them when he had been enlightened. It was not a long one and the setting floated into his mind’s eye.

There’d been a raging thunderstorm outside on that stormy night. The two of them sat in an unlighted room in comfortable, over-stuffed chairs, in front of the large picture window. Brilliant flashes of lightning streaked across the dark sky and toward the earth, followed by the inevitable sharp cracks and of loud, booming thunder.

Mixed in with the sounds of the raging storm, Matt asked, Mom, what are we ever going to do when you’re gone?

He saw her peaceful smile when the lightning flashed and it made him wonder. After waiting for the anticipated crashing thunder to pass, she said, Why that’s easy, son. You’re going to go right on living, just like before.

He remembered leaning forward, looking at her intently in the flickering light from outside the glass. He also remembered being nervous about asking, but sincerely wanted to know, so went right ahead. In a timid voice, he asked, But what about you? How do you feel about this? Your life is almost over. Doesn’t that make you sad? Aren’t you afraid? What’s going on inside you?

Inside me? After a moment of silence while she thought, she continued. Sad? Afraid? No, I’m neither of those things. My only regret is that my passing will be causing you, your brother, and your father so much sorrow, so much grief. If I’d had an unhappy life, or I’d been unsuccessful at what I wanted to achieve, I suppose the way I felt might have been different. But there is no use railing or beating your brow against fate in any case. We all know we’ve done everything possible to fight this thing growing inside me, but none of it made the slightest difference. Having surgery twice is quite enough and even that only prolonged the inevitable for a barely measurable time, if at all. Cost a lot; too much. I question to this day if it was really worth it. If I had it to do over again...

She looked down, shaking her head. I don't know, maybe I'd... She looked up and back at him. I don't know.

She had paused, grasping Matt’s hand tightly in her own, but he could feel the weakness in her muscles. Her eyes were very dark as she peered into his. They seemed to have an ethereal quality to them when they were lit by the intermittent flashes of the storm.

Back to what we were saying, when the time comes, I won’t be afraid and I won’t be sad. I’ve had a good life. I have two good sons and a wonderful man by my side. All of them have loved me greatly and given me much joy. I wouldn't trade that for anything. You’ve all been provided for as much as we could, so I don’t have a real worry about that. I think you and Brody will be all right. The biggest single concern I have is your father. I worry about him, but there’s nothing I can think of to do about it.

Even though Matt had accepted her words precisely as he believed she meant them, there was still the suffering to watch, the ministrations to tend to, and the final passing to take place. None of it had been easy. He had still shed tears and stood there still shedding them at the funeral.

There was also a certain amount of bitterness in his heart, for it seemed unfair to him that the sickness took his mother’s life at such an early age. It also caused a great deal of physical pain and suffering for her. She handled it to the best of her best ability, but there was no disguising it when it raged through her. Still, he had adopted his mother’s attitude toward it, making it his own.

Matt didn’t know how it was for his father and brother as they stood there in silence and tears, but he could barely hear the words being intoned in a loud voice by the preacher. He was nearly shouting so that all could hear and be theoretically comforted. Regardless of the shouting, many of the words were still being drowned out at times by the harsh, cold wind, and the loud flapping of the overhead canvas. Matt glanced up at it briefly, wishing the wind would let up a little until the service was over, but knew that to be unlikely.

When his eyes came back down, they chanced upon Mary Ellen Barker. She and Brody had been dating for quite some time. Matt supposed they would eventually get married, but had not heard Brody say anything about it as yet. It probably wouldn’t be until both were out of college anyway. Her eyes were on Brody even as Matt noticed her. He could see tears glistening in them.

Beside her was a very attractive girl whom Matt had never seen before. He supposed she was a fellow student accompanying Mary Ellen to the funeral, likely only there to offer her friend support. Just as his eyes were about to pass on, she looked at him. For a brief second, their eyes locked until Matt looked away.

There was much sniffing around the crowd gathered here, but in his heart, Matt was uncertain how much of it was for his mother or just a result of the cold, nasty weather they were experiencing Plenty of coughs could be heard, as well, punctuated with an equal number of sneezes. Matt had known most of the people gathered at the service all his life. In fact, as he allowed his gaze to drift around the crowd, he recognized nearly everyone, with the single exception of the pretty girl standing beside Mary Ellen.

His mind drifted again and his attention went back to the preacher. There was no comfort inside Matt from his words, for he easily recalled the horror of the past months, the horror of watching his mother slowly deteriorate until she was nothing but a mere shadow of the person she had been before the illness struck her. The last few days had been particularly bad, hearing her cry and moan, not to mention the harsh fight to continue breathing.

What a week the very first week had been! In retrospect, it had been even worse than the final days, for his mother had not come to grips with it at that point, nor had any of them. They had all been shocked and frightened back then. Matt sighed, realizing that of the whole family, his father was the one who had faced up to it the least. During her final moments, he had seemed to have himself more under control, as they had all administered her, but it had still been very difficult to watch and hear.

The sound of her labored breathing, filled with bubbling fluid in lungs that seemed to threaten her life with every indrawn breath, had nearly driven all of them batty. In the end, she had simply been unable to draw in the next one. In the space of but a few heartbeats, her long suffering was over. The cancer had won.

Sometime during the next few days until the funeral where they stood, Matt made a vow to himself. The vow was based on the very conversation with his mother that he recalled with such vivid detail, for over time, he felt he could not accept the last part of her final statement. He didn’t believe there was nothing she could have done to help their dad. She had started to say something else, but the doubt had won. He didn’t know what it might have been, but there must have been something, he felt certain.

Because of that, he swore on his very soul that if he ever married and discovered he had come down with an ailment which threatened his own life, he would never put his wife or family through what his mother had. He didn’t know how he would do it or what it could possibly be, but he would find a way. It was a vow he promised himself never to forget.

When the funeral was finally over, Matt was allowed even more time for personal reflection, for no one who came to their home afterward seemed much inclined to talk. There was a somber atmosphere inside the house and, although he knew he could not in all decency do it, he fervently wished he could leave them all behind to go out for a long walk. It didn’t matter though, he consoled himself in silence. There would be plenty of time for walks on other days, days when it was not so cold and blustery.

He looked at his father who sat on the sofa beside Aunt Edna, recalling his mother’s words about him once more. Someone had fixed him a cup of hot tea and brought it to him. That had been a half hour ago. The cup sat untouched in front of him. During that entire time, Matt did not believe he had uttered a single word to the sister sitting next to him, nor had he so much as given acknowledgment that the tea had been placed in front of him. He sat still, staring blankly into space, unsmiling and silent.

Matt gave a barely perceptible shake of his head, fighting with his own worry, and wondered if his dad was going to be able to snap out of it. He hadn’t so far. On the day when his mother had finally given up the battle, he transformed into a changed man. It had taken just over an hour for the mortician to arrive and remove her body. During that time, he sat utterly still on the bed beside her, totally un-speaking, staring down at the unmoving features of her face. All the while, he held her hand with slow tears drifting down his face..

It had been left up to Brody and Matt to handle all the arrangements for the funeral. Father proved himself to be completely inadequate for the task, continuing as he had to be lost in thought and unable to focus enough attention to be able to communicate intelligibly. Since then, he had not changed in the least, not through the funeral, not during the gathering that followed.

The day following her passing, the care providers sent a truck and removed everything they had loaned them to assist her in living. The house no longer looked like a ward in a hospital, but just a regular home once again. It didn’t matter though, for the death was too fresh for all of them to just turn off. While the final moments of her life were upon them, Matt’s father had seemed the strongest of the three. In the aftermath, he turned in the very exact opposite direction.

It was very difficult for Matt to return to college, with his father the way he was, and it was equally difficult for Brody. Both were very relieved when Aunt Edna promised them she would look in on him as much as possible. It was some relief that she was doing it, but he and Brody worked out an arrangement to alter weekends between each other for coming home. That way, he would have one of them with him on every weekend, at least, and it would also give Aunt Edna a little break.

Matt had the first weekend. Since he had only returned to Lebanon Valley on Thursday, he was nowhere close to catching up on everything in which he’d fallen behind. He brought a mass of books home with him, wondering if he was going to be suitably able to work on his studies with his father ducking in and out, but quickly found he had wasted that worry entirely. Dad remained the same; silent and still. All communication between father and son was initiated by Matt and often, there was no response.

In the days and months that followed, it became very evident that he was no longer the vigorous, alive and vital man he used to be. Matt and Brody continued to be very concerned about him. He seemed to be shriveling up, becoming smaller and losing weight, grayer of skin, and more introspective with each passing day. He was only in his late forties, yet now seemed and looked much older.

During the three way conversations, to get him to participate, he really had to be drawn out. All too frequently, he would seem to just lose concentration, staring with blank eyes at nothingness, mouth still partly open from speaking. Often, his words would just fade out in the middle of what he was saying, leaving the sentence unfinished. When one of them would ask him what he was going to say, he would blink his eyes a few times, shake his head, and say he just didn’t remember.

Since the funeral, the two boys had attempted to have any number of those talks. Many of them had been with their father in attendance, but as time wore on and he continued in the same fashion, they gradually returned back to talks between only brother and brother. It saddened them both that it was that way, but it was.

Every other weekend he saw him and each time he did, the periods of total silence in the house were growing longer and longer. The more he observed and spent time with his father, the more he realized it was the intense love his parents had for one another that was now tearing his father apart.

It instilled a fear into Matt, a fear of having a personal relationship of his own. He dated intermittently with a variety of girls both during and after his mother’s decline and death, but if they showed any sign of becoming more than just casual, it was over. There was no way he was going to get close to anyone if that was what love could do.

When the weather got warmer, things seemed to improve to a limited degree. Matt and Brody connived between themselves to increase his physical activity, thus hoping to draw him out of his voluntary or otherwise silence. They forced the issue and he walked with them. Despite that, he did not improve his communication very much and still kept slowly losing weight. By the end of summer, he began holding onto an arm for support.

Matt began to seriously consider a delay in his college education to stay with his dad. He did not speak of it with Brody, but gave the matter a considerable