Ballot Harvester Comes to Juan’s Door
The prayer vigil known as the velorio was over, and now it was time for the funeral. The little girl’s name had been Isabel. At first, she’d seem to recover from the gunshot wound she’d suffered. But a secondary infection had set in, and after several tortured weeks in the hospital, her soul had finally lifted free of her mortal body.
Juan was not a family member, but he’d come to know Isabel’s parents, meeting them frequently and sharing their grief. They’d invited him to the funeral service at Our Lady of Sorrows Catholic Church on Baseline Road. Sitting on the hard wooden pews in his best suit and tie felt awkward. Maria sat next to him wearing a long dark veil, softly weeping. Sofia sat beside her mother, holding hands tightly, communicating a profound, unspoken message. Carlos wasn’t with them. He’d already returned to his military duties in California.
The priest finished his blessing, and the pallbearers brought forth the casket accompanied by a sad, traditional song. The parishioners sang along in muted harmony. Juan didn't sing. She was so pretty, Juan thought, gazing for a long time at the large picture of a schoolgirl surrounded by a shocking abundance of flowers. She looks so much like Sofia did at that age.
Juan had trouble following the service. His mind kept returning to that terrible day. The sound of gunshots, the screams, Isabel's blood soaking his shirt as he carried her to the hospital doors. His lips flexed and twisted, and he ground his teeth together to keep silent. But nothing could keep the tears from streaming down his face. Maria leaned quietly on his shoulder and put her arm around his rigid frame.
There was food afterward, and hugs. People talked and milled about, but it was all a blur to Juan. When they finally got home, Juan gratefully removed his tie and suit. Now dressed more comfortably in jeans and a T-shirt, he crashed on his couch. Maria was cooking something.
“Did you notice how much Isabel looked like Sofia?” Jaun asked.
Maria choked back a sudden, unexpected sob. She said nothing but stirred something in the skillet with a sudden intensity.
Oh, what did I do? Juan jumped up and went to her. As they embraced, Maria let go a long keening wail that sounded like it was torn from the roots of her soul. Her body rocked with the release of pent-up emotion. “Ay, that poor girl… her parents! Burying a child. This should never happen to anyone.”
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