THE SCREAM

During the solemn Good Friday liturgy which was so somber that no funeral of a mere mortal could ever compare, I was doing my utmost to image being there at the foot of the Cross when the thread of life in Jesus snapped and He went to the Father. Then I felt I witnessed a death...

Me and my friends had arrived early, but so packed were the pews we sandwiched ourselves in wherever we could. I knelt behind a young, ebullient teen with long raven hair. She was promising her parents she'd be quiet. 

The liturgy began and so grave were the congregation there was a deep silence resounding. Then suddenly, the raven haired girl fell and her head landed in front of me with an enormous BANG. 

The second my nervous system thought I had witnessed a death I let out a blood curdling scream. I had not meant to, but she seemed lifeless and the THWACK of her skull against the wood provoked a panicked scream. 

A doctor, EMT and a nurse rushed towards her from various places in the church. The doctor asked earnestly, "Did she bang her head?" I nodded vigorously, yes, yes! Raven hair was carefully lifted out, and treated outside. It turned out she had been fasting so much that her blood sugar dropped. She had appeared so lively and playful, yet was really seriously pious. 

Later, when everyone drifted out of the church, everyone was asking, "Who screamed?" My friend K said to me, "You were near the girl, who was the crazy lady who screamed?" I had to admit to many of my fellow congregants that it had been me.

What ensued was some rambunctious good-natured ribbing that was so uplifting and such fun. 

"Mary, who knew you could sing opera?"

“The priest will have to increase the insurance - next time you scream - windows will break.”

“Were Edvard Munch alive today you would inspire a painting.”

We had an Easter banquet in the great hall that was like a wedding, but with better food and no cheesy speeches. I took my place at my table, but my friends quickly moved me and bid me to join them at the table for the choir members because of my operatic screech during the liturgy. I am now an honorary choir member. 

I declined the wine and had raspberry water and when I went for a refill, one of them said, “Get her one quick or she’ll scream!”

At the end of the banquet, the organizers of the feast gave pots of white lilies to those who had given donations for the catering. The retired EMT gave me his white trumpets. I suppose even bad opera singers get flowers.

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This post can be filed under Eastertide dispatches. The classic painting of The Scream, executed by Edvard Munch is in the public domain.