Page 34 of Someone to Remember
“I don’t know, sweetie, but I have to think that your story is still being written, and this is another chapter. Certainly not the end.”
“It feels like the end of everything good.”
“As you know, that particular feeling passes in time, even as the grief remains.”
“All I see is a long, dark tunnel before me with no light at the end.”
“The light will come back. I promise. And in the meantime, I’ll be here for you, and the Wild Widows will be here for you, for as long as you need us.”
“I wouldn’t feel right going back to that group after leaving when I found my new happily ever after.”
“Don’t be silly. That group exists in large part because of you, and you’d be welcomed back with open arms by everyone.”
“I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”
“You don’t have to decide anything today or tomorrow. Just focus on getting through each hour, and we’ll talk about all that stuff later.”
I hear the doorbell ring, and Christy comes in a few minutes later, walking right over to me and Iris to hug us both. It’s clear to me that she’s been crying.
“I’m so, so sorry, Tay.”
“Thank you for coming.”
“I brought some food. I didn’t know what you might need.”
“That’s very nice of you.”
She sits next to Iris on the coffee table and puts her arm around her. “What can I do?”
“I was just telling Taylor we’ll be there for her for the long haul, regardless of her not staying active in the group.”
“Of course we will. That’s not even a question.”
“Love you guys,” I tell them with more damned tears filling my eyes.
“We love you, too.”
Iris
Taylor is right aboutone thing—a funeral home is the last place Gage or I want to be, but we do it for her so she can keep her feet up and hopefully alleviate the swelling that has her looking at a potential early delivery of the baby.
We bring the favorite shirt and jeans that Taylor chose for Will. Helping her make those decisions was brutal. Every piece of clothing brought back another memory of the man who’s now gone forever.
Since we met Will’s parents, Claire and Frank, last night, they thank us for coming and offer us seats at the conference room table, where the funeral director has set out refreshments that none of us want.
We go over the details of the service and let them know that Taylor intends to write the obituary but would appreciate their input.
Pallbearers are discussed, hymns and readings are chosen, and the program for the funeral begins to come together under the funeral director’s gentle guidance.
“Taylor indicated that Will wished to be cremated.”
“Oh,” Claire says, her face flat with shock, “he never mentioned that to us. We assumed he’d be buried in the family plot.”
“He told Taylor he didn’t want to take up space on the earth and wished to be cremated.”
“That… that’s not what we want.”
“It’s whathewanted, Mrs. Lonergan, and it’s what his wife wants.”
