I hesitated. I wasn’t sure I could manage if she got hysterical.
She came up beside me. “I’ll be fine,” she said.
I nodded. She linked her arm through mine. The men opened the metal doors and wheeled the casket through.
I braced myself. I could do this.
These rooms were clearly not intended for guests. Several workers in navy coveralls and black gloves manned large metal tables. A storeroom stood open, holding various styles of urns and a stack of plain boxes.
When they saw us, they nodded and moved aside.
The men rolled the trolley to the far side, where a table had been cleared. They lifted the casket onto it. One of them said, “We are very sorry for your loss,” then rolled the trolley out again.
The woman stayed with us. “They will break the seal now,” she told us. “Once they have done their work, they will let us know how to proceed.”
Right. They had to approve our seeing Peanut. I wondered at the things they had seen. If they had managed, over time, to become numb to it.
The woman led us a little way away from the table as two of the workers approached the casket.
My mother gripped my arm like a vise. One of the men unlatched the side locks.
“They will break the seal now,” the woman said.
The other man took a metal tool and slid it along the edges of the casket. The two of them struggled for a moment with the lid, then it came free.
But then they closed it again. Fear gripped me. Was it too much even for them?
The woman said, “They’ll remove the hinges so the lid can come all the way off. It’s easier to take him out that way.”
I let out a long gust of air. I couldn’t even cry now, I was so anxious.
One of the men walked to the other side of the casket to remove the hinges. The minutes were agonizing as he worked. I glanced over at Mother. Like me, she was rapt, probably both impatient and afraid of what they would find inside.
After what felt like an eternity, they lifted the lid completely away and set it aside. They looked down, then over at the woman, and nodded.
She stepped forward. “You can come over now,” she said.
My feet had never felt heavier. I hadn’t seen Peanut’s face for seven years. Until a few weeks ago, I couldn’t have imagined that I ever would again. I mentally flashed through all the grave-exhuming videos I had watched so I could prepare myself.
But when I peered inside, I could see only what I remembered. The small nubby nose. The tiny chin. Only his face showed above the blanket wrapped tightly around him. His skin was tight and mottled, but intact. I moved as if to reach in, but the man said, “Let’s slide something beneath him first.”
I pulled back. One of them held a flexible piece of clear plastic. He placed it inside the casket and shifted it beneath Peanut. I held my breath, knowing that they worried he would come apart. My mother stepped back, unable to watch. But when they lifted it, the blanket wrapped around him held.
They moved him to the table, carefully, with more tenderness than I would have expected from two gruff workers in coveralls. One of them tested the blanket and slid their hand beneath his body. He frowned.
But I didn’t care. I opened the handkerchief my mother had given me and moved forward. The caretaker woman acted as if she might stop me, but I didn’t give her that chance. I slid the handkerchief beneath him and folded it back over. He was so small. It was just the right size.
I wrapped the cloth tight so it would hold, and picked him up. He didn’t feel much different from all those years ago. Light as air, but substantial and real. He still existed.
My mother walked up then and touched his forehead. “Sweet little bub,” she said, tears flowing freely down her face. “He’s still perfect.”
I held him against me, wishing I could freeze this moment. I was such a different person now. I had to be. I couldn’t fall apart at every setback life brought me. I had to be strong. I had so much to face. Surely, surely, this was the hardest thing I would ever do.
I pulled him close, my lips close to his ear. “You’re going to be a big brother,” I whispered. “Watch over us.”
The caretaker approached. “You can walk him down,” she said.
I followed her and one of the men to another area of the room. An enormous wall faced us with three steel doors. Leading up to each of them was a mechanized ramp.
A simple brown box sat on one ramp, about two feet long. I knew that was where Peanut would go.
I turned and let Mom see him one more time. She touched his forehead and stepped back again. I laid him in the box. I thought I would let the handkerchief go with him, but then changed my mind and unwrapped it from his body. I held it against my chest as I moved away.
The coveralls man fitted a lid onto the box and walked over to the metal door.