A Beautiful Funeral
Page 57

A practically new conversion van sat with a For Sale sign in the front windshield; its red paint barely visible under three feet of snow.
I gulped. Our current van that barely fit our family of six still wasn’t paid off. “It looks new. Are you sure that’s the right price?”
She clapped her hands. “I know! It’s like Heaven just plopped it right in front of us!”
Her perfect smile and the deep dimple in her left cheek melted me every time, making it impossible to tell her anything but yes. “Well, let’s get their number, and I’ll make an appointment to take it for a test drive.”
Diane clapped her hands once, holding them at her chest. “Really?”
I shook my head once. “If it’s what you want.”
She jumped, and then held her belly, looking down. “See? Didn’t I tell you? Everything is going to be all right, little T.”
“Mommy,” Trenton said, tugging on her jeans.
Diane slowly maneuvered her body to kneel, always sure to get eye-level with whichever son wanted her attention. Trenton was holding her index finger, and she lifted it to her mouth, kissing his pudgy hand. “Yes, sir?”
“I like the car.”
“You like the car?” she asked. She looked up at me. “Hear that, Daddy? Trenton wants the car.”
“Then we have to get the car,” I said, shrugging.
Trenton and Diane flashed matching smiles with matching dimples.
“Did you hear that?” she squealed. “Daddy’s going to get you the car! Good choice, Trenton!”
Trenton threw his arms around his mom’s neck and squeezed. “Love you, Mommy.”
“And I love you.” Diane pressed a wet kiss on Trenton’s cherub cheek, and he wiped it off, although he was more than happy to get a kiss from his mother. She was a goddess in their eyes, capable of anything. I spent the majority of every day trying my damnedest to deserve her.
I helped her stand, watching her lean, a bit off balance.
“Easy.” I gently took her chin between my thumb and index finger. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
She winked. “Keep saying yes and you’ll never have to find out.”
The boys hugged one another, and after some discussion, Travis stepped forward. He gripped each side of the podium, looking down. It took him a long time to speak. Even from behind, I could see Abby cover her mouth, hurting for both of them. My youngest son clenched his teeth, and then his eyes scanned the crowd.
“I’ve thought about what I would say. I really … I don’t know what to say because there are no words for this. None. Thomas is right. You always made us feel loved, Dad. Even the times when we were unlovable. Taylor and Tyler are right. You were the strongest of us. You always made us feel safe. And like Trent said … you spoke about Mom so often that I can’t help but be happy that you’re finally with her again. You wanted that more than life, but you loved us enough to stick around for as long as you did, and I’m so thankful for that. Some people thought you were a fool for holding onto someone who was never coming back, but you knew different. You knew you would be the one going back to her. I …” He sighed. “My brothers have told me stories about the other kids saying they wished they had our parents. If I could choose to do it all over again or have different parents for the rest of my life, I would choose you. I would choose her. Just so I could spend the time with you that I had.” A single tear fell, and he sniffed once. “I would, and there are no words for how much that means to me. There are no words for how beautiful your love was, and that it had an effect on your children long after Mom died. The love you showed us will stay with us long after today.”
My brows pulled together, and I shifted uncomfortably in the chair stationed beside my wife’s hospital bed that we’d bought the same day we called hospice. Diane was holding Travis in both arms, tubing coming from her hand, hugging him for the last time. She held her tears until Thomas took him out into the hall.
She covered her mouth, and her tired, sunken eyes looked at me for answers I didn’t have. “He won’t remember me,” she whispered with a ragged voice. Her body had been worn by chemo and radiation, her scarf covering her bald head. She had fought hard for as long as she could, only saying enough when the doctors said she only had a few more days with the boys.
“He’ll remember you. I won’t let him forget.”
Her bottom lip trembled, and she covered her eyes, nodding. “I’m so sorry.”
I took her hand and pressed my lips against her bony knuckles. “You have nothing to be sorry for, my love. You did everything you could.”
She closed her eyes. “I’m afraid.”
“You can be afraid. I’ll hold you ‘til it’s over.”
“I don’t want it to be over.”
“I know,” I said. I crawled into bed next to her, letting her lay her head on my chest. She settled in. It took everything I had to stay strong for her. She had been strong for the boys and me all these years. I owed her that.
Diane nodded her head, and with tears streaming down her face, she rested her cheek on my chest. “I love you, Diane. I love you. I love you. I love you.” I held my wife until her breathing evened out and then touched my cheek to her forehead when more time passed between breaths. “I love you,” I whispered. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
When she exhaled for the last time, I watched the nurse, Becky, check Diane’s pulse by the wrist and then use the stethoscope. Becky pulled the earpieces from her ears and offered an apologetic smile. “She’s gone, Jim.”
I sucked in a breath and wailed. I knew my sons were just outside the door, but I’d never felt so much pain in my life, and I wasn’t strong enough to hold it in. I held Diane’s face gently in my hands and kissed her cheek. “I love you.” I kissed her again, my tears wetting her face. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” I buried my face in her neck and sobbed.
Travis stepped back from the podium, and the boys hugged one another before walking off the stage in a line led by Thomas. The song Diane and I danced to at our wedding played as the boys filled the empty seats next to their wives. Trenton leaned over, his entire body shaking. Camille and Taylor both touched his back. Camille whispered in his ear, and he leaned his head against her chin.
Part of me wanted to stay, to watch over them and guide them, but something too strong to ignore was pulling me back; something I hadn’t been able to ignore over four decades before. A delicate hand touched my shoulder, and I turned, seeing my beloved wife’s face. She sat next to me and took my hands in hers.
My eyes glossed over. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
She watched the pastor speak for a few moments and then turned to me, a peaceful smile on her face and tears in her eyes. “Ditto.”
“I did my best.”
I interlaced my fingers in hers, and she squeezed my hand. “You were perfect. I knew you could do it.”
I lifted her hand to my lips and closed my eyes. A peace came over me that I hadn’t felt since before she’d died. She stood up, pulling me toward the double doors in the back of the auditorium.
“I love you. I love you. I love you,” she said, reaching behind her. She pushed the door, wearing the smile I’d fallen in love with, walking backward. She looked the way she had before she got sick; the happy, tough-as-nails, stunningly beautiful woman I remembered. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, just as I couldn’t then. I’d missed shamelessly staring at her, but I glanced over my shoulder one last time at my sons.