Keisha Bailey (foreground), a relative of the four Beckfords killed in a motor vehicle accident last June, is overcome with grief at the funeral. - Norman Grindley/Deputy Chief Photographer

Paul H. Williams, Gleaner Writer

Four coffins, one funeral, one family. He sat in the pews watching mourners milling around the coffins. A bottle of rum was in his hand. Rum to drown his sorrow. More than nine months and lots of liquor later, Triston Beckford is still grappling with grief.

He cannot forget the events of the morning of July 10, 2006, which changed his life forever. He was at work when he got telephone calls to go home immediately. Then a cousin called and told him of the tragic deaths of his mother, grandmother and grandfather, and of the hospitalisation of an uncle who, incidentally, were all coming from Triston's granduncle's wake, in Banana Ground, Manchester. The car in which they were travelling blew a tyre along the Toll Gate, Clarendon, main road and crashed into a utility pole, at 4:30 a.m.

Triston, who should have gone to the wake himself, hurled his cellphone against a wall and darted off. At the morgue, staff refused to show him the bodiesinitially, but eventually acquiesced. When he saw the corpses, he grabbed his mom and hugged her tightly.

He said, "I lift her off the table ... about four persons or five persons try to get her from my arms and could not ... I did not know what I was doing ..." He cannot recall what happened after that, other than he found himself swarmed by neighbours and reporters at his home. He was told he fainted four times.

Let guard down

With the initial shock waning, he let his guard down, and the pain became less intense. But, more worries were to come. His uncle succumbed to his injuries two days after the accident. Triston's emotional wounds were wide open. "That day it was like everything rewindagain ... the grief and the pain started all over again," he recollected. Then, there was another emotional lull.

The days leading up to the funeral were free of strong emotions; relatives and friends offered him and his two siblings comfort and support, and churchfolk counselled him. He in turn had to stand by his 15-year-old sister and three-year-old brother. The funeral arrangements were laid squarely on his 18-year-old shoulders and he behaved as if he were preparing for the funeral of strangers since he had previously worked at the funeral home.

He recalled, "I just tell myself I was doing the job ... I don't know where I get the strength from ... I don't know where it come from ... and I went and I pick the caskets ..."

Funeral day. Triston's mind was blank. He dressed casually, and with 16 teddy bears and bunches of roses headed for the morgue. He put the teddy bears and roses in the coffins.

But he was unsatisfied about some of the funeral preparations.

Triston said, "I went and fix my mom's hair, and I fix my grandmother's hair, and I fix even my uncle's hair ... my grandmother did have on eyeliner, and I take it off because she is a Christian, and fix it how I want to fix it."

Wore a smile

This man was loaded with liquor at the funeral for four members of Triston Beckford's family who were killed in a motor vehicle accident in Clarendon in June 2006. The funeral was held at the New Testament Church of God, Old Harbour, St. Catherine, on July 23. - Norman Grindley/Deputy Chief Photographer

All this time he wore a smile, when all around him was sombre. It was when he saw the hearses and other vehicles leaving for the church that the sledgehammer of his reality hit home. Whoof! The tears came in torrents, and he was at once thrown into a whirlpool of weeping - again. All the way to the funeral he had to be restrained, as he attempted to jump from the vehicle in which he was travelling.

At the church, he composed himself, pretending to be OK. Upon seeing his brother and sister, he started to cry. All three hugged tightly and tears flowed profusely. They were now surrounded by family and friends. Soon after, the service commenced.

Reading the second lesson was his contribution, and after that he left the church to drown his sorrows with beer, about 24 bottles.

When the service ended, Triston's mourning went into overdrive. He lay on the top of the hearse that was transporting his mother's body.

Triston: "At one particular time I can remember when the hearse stop, I went off the top ... and pulled my mother out of the casket." He was again restrained, and put into a car, from which he jumped, and returned to the top of the hearse.

The antics continued at the cemetery. Just before the coffins were placed into the grave he asked that he touch them for one last time. His mother's coffin was the last he touched. "And jus when I touchmy mom, I know that I drop in the grave and then I don't know nothing more," Triston added.

He woke up 10:30 in the night only to find himself strapped to his bed, and the house full of people.

The extent of Triston's grief is not so much about the deaths themselves. It's about the end of the tight-knit relationship he had with all four. He has fond memories of them.

"My grandfather would say, 'Si mi big grandson deh ... look how him sweet'," Triston remembers. "Very close" was how he described the relationship he had with his mom. Triston: "We (could) talk about anything, we sit and talk about anything ... absolutely anything."