Page 122 of The Gathered Fragments of Us
Back at our house afterward, Sandy and Cash had somehow managed to transform our home into what looked like a restaurant buffet. The dining room table was completely covered with casseroles, sandwich platters, salads, and desserts. Who did they think was coming? There wasn’t anyone at the funeral!
“I didn’t realize your mother was going to organize all of this,” I murmured to Caden as we watched Sandy direct traffic in our kitchen like a general commanding troops.
“Years of practice,” he said. “She’s been the unofficial coordinator for every family crisis since I was a kid. Death, divorce, job loss—Mom shows up with food and hugs.”
I approached her—with caution, “Sandy, I don’t know if this food will all get eaten. There wasn’t this many people at the funeral.”
“Oh, don’t be silly, Felicity. The whole family will come over to be here for Macy.”
“The whole family?”
“Oh sure. You know, everyone—those who could make it to the funeral and the rest of Caden’s cousins, aunts, uncles, and the like. All coming to be here with Macy now that we’re in a place she can let loose and be with her loved ones."
“Oh.” I was kind of dazed by it all. I hadn’t expected anyone else to come in. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Caden’s full family—usually it was the cousins he would hang out with for Sunday football and such, but having everyone here at once, that was usually reserved for holidays or events once a year or so. But I guess this counted as an event? Sandy is one of six and Peter one of six or seven, I think. Regardless, they both have really big families. It’s a wonder they only had two themselves—Caden and Cash.
As I was standing there, I heard the front door open and voices soon after.
“I told you to park on the street!”
“What does it matter! The driveway is a fine place for parking.”
“It is if you are actually on the driveway, Danny!”
“It’s only a small section of grass, Tommy. Shut up.”
I looked at Caden with raised eyebrows. “So, everybody?”
“Not everybody!” Sandy called from the kitchen, not even turning around from where she was orchestrating the food situation, “Just my brother Tom and his crew. Probably mysister Gladys and hers, and maybe Billy—he wasn’t sure if they’d all make it but said some of them would try. Chris and Jimmy won’t be here with their broods though—too much going on. That’s okay though, with everyone we have showing up, it’ll be a wonder if we get any leftovers!”
Before I could respond, Patty Doyle’s voice filled the house, loud enough to also be heard from the kitchen too—so glad for that open floor plan... “Sandy, where the hell do I put this lasagna? This kitchen looks like it’s been hit by a food tornado!”
“Patricia Anne!” Sandy shot back immediately, spatula in hand. “Watch your language in front of the children!”
I smiled despite everything. Some things never changed—Sandy and her sister-in-law, Patty, had been bickering like this for as long as I’d known them, but they could organize a small army if needed.
Tom appeared in the doorway behind his wife, carrying what looked like enough beer to stock a small pub. “Sorry for the loud invasion, Felicity,” he said, giving me a quick hug. “We tried to leave the kids at home, but they weren’t having it. Turns out, you stop having any say-so when your kids become adults.” He shook his head when he said it, as if he was disappointed, but the smile on his face belied his words.
Behind him came the parade of people he was referring to—Tommy with Rachel and their kids, the twins Mike and Joey carrying coolers. Coolers? Why in the hell do they have coolers? Then came Danny. The house instantly filled with the chaos of a Doyle family gathering.
“Macy!” Danny called out, spotting her in the living room. “Come here and give your favorite uncle a hug!”
“You’re still not my uncle,” Macy said, but she was smiling as she walked over to him. I remember when she was younger, she would run to him. I don’t know if it’s time, or the circumstances, but she seemed so much more withdrawn from the little girl she used to be.
“I keep telling ya! I’m your dad’s cousin, which makes me your Cuncle—practically the same thing,” Danny said, scooping her up in a bear hug. “Besides, I brought you something.”
From his jacket pocket, he produced a mid-size, wrapped package. “Made this for you. Nothing fancy, but I thought you might like it.”
Macy unwrapped it carefully, revealing a small wooden box, about seven or eight inches wide by four or five long, with her name carved into the lid. “It’s beautiful,” she said softly.
“It’s for keeping special things. Memories, pictures, stuff like that.” Danny’s voice was unusually gentle. “Sometimes when we lose someone we love, it helps to have a special place to keep the good memories safe. Tommy stained it and did the engraving.” At this, Macy ran her fingers over the engraving of her name, clearly in awe of the handiwork.
“Thank you,” she said in a hushed voice, “I’ll put Mom’s necklace in here.”
“You can put whatever you want in there, kiddo. It’s yours.”
“Aunt Felicity,” Samantha, Tommy’s daughter, appeared at my elbow. “Dad said we should ask before we set stuff up in the backyard. Can I put some games up? Like cornhole and stuff?”
“Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you need.”
