The Dare

I met Sarah because our mothers were best friends.  Well, Caroline was actually her step mother, so my mom and her step mom were best friends.  Sarah was adopted by her dad and her mom.  She and all three of her siblings were adopted together.  I'm not sure what happened to make a mom lose all four of her children, but they were all blessed to have Caroline and Chuck.  They were very good people.  

We spent every sing Christmas Eve with them.  It was so much fun.  We would rotate who would host between three families, but so many more families were invited.  I still miss that about Christmas Eve now that we are all grown and gone.  

Our families were very close.  We saw them all the time and we got into some shenanigans when we were together.  I remember one time when Sarah and I were sitting in the way back (nope, not safe) of my mom's datson station wagon.  Air Supply was on the 8 track and Sarah and I sang our little hearts out, dreaming of who would sweep us off of our feet.  

I knew Sarah and her family so well that we knew each other's out of town grandparents.  We were close.  I loved her grandparents and she loved mine.  

When her grandfather died, I cried and cried.  I had never lost anyone before.  I was worried about Sarah and how she was feeling.  The strange thing to me about funerals when I was young was that people were usually not crying anymore at the viewing.  They welcomed people from all over and said nice things about the person, but they weren't crying.  I had always imagined that they would be beside themselves with grief.  They may have been, but the crying had been done and I didn't know.  

Sara greeted me at the door.  

"I'm so glad you are here!  I am so bored!"  

"I am sorry about your grandpa."  

"Thank you," Sarah answered with a hug.  "Do you want to touch him?"  

"Ummmmm...  I don't think so," I told her with fear in my heart.  

"Come one.  You loved him too and my mom kissed him," Sarah informed me.  She followed up with, "I dare you."

"Ok,  I will, but I am not kissing him," I answered, unsure of what I had just agreed to.   

"Come on.  I'll take you up and then you can touch him."  

Sarah and I walked up to the open casket slowly.  I felt an overwhelming sadness when I saw him there and suddenly I wanted to reach out and touch his hand, the hand I had held on so many occasions.  

I said a prayer for him.  Feeling very somber (and a little scared), I reached for his hand.  Just when I was about to touch him, the medal around his necked moved!  I stifled a scream and ran from the room.  

Sarah followed me with tears running down her cheeks.  She was NOT sad.  She was laughing.