Not many came to the funeral. Her four surviving children and Uncle Pete, who used to chase her around the house with a wooden spoon when they were kids, delivered the eulogy.

Loretta and her husband, Jack, sang Amazing Grace to the small crowd that had gathered in the backyard of the farm. Most came to say goodbye, whereas others wanted to find out more about the death of Maggie Johnson.

The newspaper said that she’d died suddenly on her property out on the north side of town. Out where pavement turned to dirt and gravel. She is survived by her four children, and her brother was written. No names were mentioned due to the cost of each word. The cause of death was not mentioned, but everyone knew the story.

Maggie was found hanging from a rope tied in a knot over a beam in the basement amongst the turnips, greens, beans, corn, and rutabaga. It was John who found her. Thunder clapped, and rain fell on the tin roof. And John said out loud, I hope you’re at peace.

Her ashes were spread in the garden. The four children stood there while Loretta scooped into the coffee can and placed the remains down rows of corn and string beans. They figured she’d be at home there. Her final stop. After all,  the preacher man told the kids that no one got into heaven who killed themselves. Most of the folks took that as the truth. John and Bell did not.

Maybe there’s a prize we get when we’re done on this earth, John told his siblings. Perhaps for all this misery, we go through there’s a home for us on the other side, he said. Maybe. Just maybe.