Page 1 of Wonderstruck

chapter one

one day at a time

august 2nd, 2024

What do you say to remember the man who raisedyou, in front of a church full of people, when that man is lying in a coffin about two feet away from you?

It’s a tricky one, isn’t it?

Ultimately it’s not as tricky as planning the funeralall by yourself because your Aunt Sandrine never really liked your Dad because of her ‘how disgraceful to choose a man with a mere four acreage of land’ mindset, but still, this part sure wasn’t easy.

I promised myself I’d write something in the weeksleading up to today. I made a vow to not leave my dorm until I had a speech that summed up my dad in a way that made it feel like he wasn’t dead.

My eyes fell back to the empty sheet of paper in front of me.

Not one word, Aurora? Not even a sentence? Shame on you.

Craning my head up slightly, I met the stares of the crowd, made up of thepopulation of Honeywood, the town where I grew up and hadn’t stepped foot in since the last time I was in this church.

But instead of my dad being buried, it was my mom.

“Aurora, sweetheart. Do you need a minute?”

I look back over my shoulder, finding Pastor Robin, my eyes vacant against herwarm blue stare.

Do I need a minute?I needed another lifetime.

I needed a moment just to take in the fact that I was back here, in the town whereI’d learnt everything. After we sold up the cottage by the lake and moved to New York in the months after mom died, I thought that was the last I’d see of this town. And I was happy about it, in the beginning. The mountains, the morning air and the frost nipping at the edges of the lake reminded me too much of mom to ever be happy there.

I never had a chance to thank my dad for choosing New York. Not only was iton the opposite end of the country, with too many states to name seperating us from the grief we were running from, but I had built such a beautiful reality for myself in New York that imagining what life we would have turned out like if we stayed here hurt too much.

“Aurora?”

Pastor Robin’s sweet voice lifted me from my thoughts, and I brought my eyesback into focus to meet her stare.

“I’m fine.” I lied, before passing her the most unconvincing smile.

I was surprised my trembling breaths weren’t echoing off every ornate surface inthe place, confirming to the pews bursting with townsfolk that I was as devastated, and wrecked, as they probably assumed I was.As the dark circles shadowing my eyes gave away for me.

Trembling, my hands rose to grip the podium, steadying my body, easing thepressure I’d felt for months, the one that felt like chain mail armour welded to my shoulders.

Squeezing my aching eyes closed, I called on everything I hadn’t had thestrength to write.“My…”

I practically sank into the chorus of sighs that came from the crowd, as thoughit was a giant set of open arms, beckoning me in.

I tried again, this time zeroing in on a section of the stained glass window onthe back wall of the church. “My dad loved this town.” The breath I stole was quiet. Needed. “If he didn’t, we wouldn’t be here right now. But, e-even after all the heartache, after e-everything that… happened with my… mom.” The sighs echoed again. “He loved his life here. He loved who he left here. And I understand w-why he wanted this to be his… his… ”

Final resting place.

Next to the love of his life.

The crowd knew what I meant. I didn’t have to say it. I wouldn’t have thoughtthey wanted me to say it. Not when I was certain that they could see the tear that had slipped from my lash line, shining on my blotchy cheeks.

I didn’t know whether I was crying about the fact that my dad had asked to beburied back here, with Mom, or whether the fact that he was lying in a coffin only a few feet away from me was only now registering in my head.

I forced my eyes closed again, reminding myself what I was supposed to bedoing.

Supposed to be.

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