The Dead Cousin

While working as an art therapist at Central Louisiana Mental hospital, I had the privilege of meeting John, who had been hospitalized for over ten years without any visitors during all those years. He had therapy an hour a week for over a year. John never said a word during any of these visits.

 I furnished him with crayons, markers and a piece of paper.

At first he just sat there staring at the paper never attempting to draw anything, or communicate with anyone. After about a month, he picked up a black crayon and drew a single face that filled the entire page. In the area of the cranium, there was a black void. When he was finished, he got up and walked out the door. The next week, and all those afterwards, John would come in, sit in his chair and draw one face and leave. The cranium was always dark and ugly. In the rest of the face, there might be rakes or teeth or houses or people, or snakes or animals; things that were probably on his mind. John never talked. Just came in, drew and left.

One morning, after about a year, John came in as usual. Sat down and began drawing, as I had begun to call them, his self-portrait.   

 

 He began talking to himself. I had never heard him utter a single word before so I sat next to him and listened.

JOHN:

  “I came upon the dead yesterday. It was Tuesday, 8 PM. I had only a pair of undershorts on and no shoes. She called me on the phone. I don't have a phone, had to go next door. My aunt said that Bubba didn't answer and wanted me to check on him. He is old, lost most of his hair and has no teeth. He has teeth but don't wear them, not even to eat, afraid he will swallow them. They don't live together. He used to beat her up.

I walked down the gravel road. Didn't put my shoes on. The gravel hurt. I got there and had to knock on the door. Got no answer but I knew he was there so I climbed in the window. Had to get a bucket from the shed to reach it and then a board to break the kitchen window so I could get in the house. Scratched my knee climbing in that window. Got a little blood on his window. Had to look at that red blood a bit.

Oh, my Lord, he was lying there in the middle of the kitchen. He had heart trouble, went to the doctor a lot for that. I could tell he was dead. He had his hand up over his head like he was looking for something that might be under the house. His feet were crossed, the left one over the right. His left shoe was off and over away from him. He was cold. I could tell he was deadener a pecker wood. Had his face down on the rug and his hand up over his head like he was trying to see what was under the floor boards, or praying to Jesus, begging for mercy. Oh, my Lord, he was my second cousin, on my mama's side. The mama that put me in here cause she said I weren't right in the head. I ain't never come up on a dead man like that with his hand up over his head. He weren't looking for nothing cause he didn't have his glasses on. Must of been praying.

Used to go to the Baptist church in the 50's. When he was young. The one out there in the woods over by Jena. Taught me Sunday school. Taught me about Jesus and the 12 merry men that ate fish and loaves of bread.



 

Ain't teaching no more, stretched out dead on that floor like he was searching for Jesus.

I didn't know what to do. I yelled for help. I don't have no phone. Have no use for those things. The woman what has the phone, the Indian woman, she's pure Indian, came running. Married my daddy's cousin during the war. She ran next door and called for help. Some men came in a big old car with lights all a flashing. They took one look and started to move the man. I said I didn't see no need to move him to a comfortable spot cause he was deadener a pecker wood. Lying there looking like a statue. They moved him anyway and that arm stayed up over his head. Man was stiff. Been dead a long time, they said. I said, we could put a flag in his hand and stand him out by the mail box, he was so stiff.

They carried him out with his feet crossed and I began to quote the Bible. I said, 'I have come to prepare a place for you, so that you may be there too. Do not be afraid for the place I prepare is better than that cold floor you were lying on.' Jesus said that. Before they took him out the door, I grabbed my cousin and began to shout prayers at him. But he didn't hear me cause he was deadener a pecker wood. I was told to always pray for the dead. I sure did that. Yes, sir. I knew my aunt would want to know what happened to Bubba since she used to be married to him. I made them take a picture of me holding that hand that was searching for Jesus. Like we was praying together or something.”

John was quiet for quite a while after that. As John finished his self-portrait, he gave me a wink and said, “When mama sees that picture I took then she will know which one is crazy. Yes, sir. She will know it should of been her in here instead of me.”

John suddenly placed his hands over his ears, closed his eyes and shook his head, as if removing all the evil thoughts that haunted him, before standing and stretching. He looked at me for the first time and said, “Won't be back no more. Gotta go to a funeral.”

John walked out.

I looked at his portrait and the cranium was clear and not scribbled or colored in black. There were no strange drawings about the face.

 

Perhaps John cured himself.

John died one week later and was buried on the grounds with no family members present.

© Nippy Blair 2015. Posts and pictures on this blog cannot be copied, downloaded, printed, or used without the permission of the blog owner, Nippy Blair.