In Savannah, we sat at a sidewalk cafe eating waffles and scones while a hearse delivered a coffin to a beautiful church across the street. I sipped a cappuccino, and watched the coffin being lifted then carried up the steps to disappear inside the nave. The day was lit for a wedding on the church steps, bright sunshine and blue skies, but death unfolded instead.
It was clear to us that the person being laid to rest was someone of considerable wealth. The few cars that arrived and parked by the side of the church were low in number but all high end luxury vehicles. The men and women exiting the cars carried themselves with an air of discretion and easy confidence. The funeral party was small and their black outfits stood out against the white exterior walls of the church.
The folks who really caught our attention as we stared from across the street were the handlers. They seemed keenly aware that there were two different families coming to grieve this person and they did not want to run into each other. Their difficult job was to recognize and acknowledge the pain and the loss while also working to make sure no new injuries were created in the mourning. We felt a little uncomfortable being so close to their personal grieving but it seemed strangely normal. It was almost as if Savannah with all its beauty and pleasures was used to sharing its hurt with the neighbors and visitors, too.
The cafe tables where we all sat watching this unfold were small with the five of us crowded together with sugar and sun making plans for the day. How alive we felt with possibility and wonder for what we might find on that day. We paid no more mind to Death as we started walking the streets of Savannah in search of history, cuisine, and ambiance. One of the most remarkable aspects of our lives is that Death is constantly hanging over our heads with 100 percent certainty for all of us yet we carry on as if it will never be because we must. If we didn’t ignore it to some degree, it would paralyze us. So, we stare at it, whether it’s a single death across the street or thousands in the world at large, and we carry on about our lives.
When you don’t live in a place, it’s easy to forget the business of life. As visitors, we see past the drab errand destinations: banks, grocery stores, and gas stations and see only the inviting facades of quaint shops and special occasion restaurants, cobbled sidewalks meant for taking things slowly, and outdoor terraces for lingering over meals. The buildings are costumes for our leisure play, an overnight stop on our way to or from Florida. Savannah is an ideal spot to find respite from the road.
With death still lingering in the air, Chris decided to book a night time ghost tour with a local company that takes tourists around the city in an open air hearse. His vision for the evening was part Rob Zombie’s Dragula and part Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil.
(Image from tenor.com)
He wanted all of us to go but Henry, Jack, and I decided to pass so he made reservations for himself and Emma. When he called, he was told they were booked for the evening but they could be on stand-by. If any guests decided at the last minute to chicken out, he and Emma would be able to hop on for the ride.
It seemed strange to think of being on standby for a ride in a hearse but it emphasized again our Earthly predicament. Every last one of us is on the waitlist for death. This sacred, special, impossible life we have is slowly expiring from the day we are born and there is nothing we can do about it.
According to the company, Emma and Chris would need to show up at the start of the tour and wait for the other confirmed guests to arrive. If all arrived on time, they would have to wait until another day to see the haunts of this old southern city.
With time to spare before their evening with Savannah’s ghosts, we wandered around the wharf next to the Savannah River looking at the wonderfully old trees and cascading Spanish moss. We found a beckoning restaurant outside and ordered delightful southern fried chicken and shrimp, crispy green beans, and had multiple refills of sweet tea. The service was impeccable and the lovely breeze made us feel far away from home.
After our slow and relaxing dinner, Chris and Emma headed to the first stop to wait for their hearse.
Luckily or unluckily for them, when they arrived, the hearse was all full. They would have to wait until our next stop, Charleston, South Carolina to meet some old Southern spirits.