I’VE NEVER ENJOYED BEING the center of attention. I would much rather fade into the background of everything. When you’re in the background, people don’t have expectations for you. You get to go on about your life with no one judging you.
I’m not given that luxury today. We’re sitting in the front pews of the church like animals on display as people stop to give their condolences before the funeral even starts.
It’s been hard to look anywhere but the coffin at the front of the church. I’m sick to my stomach over what it represents—the death of my mother. I shouldn’t have to help pick out my mother’s casket at twenty-seven. There’s still so much she was supposed to be there for in my life.
My wedding.
Coming home with grandkids.
Dad fully retiring so they could travel more.
She wasn’t supposed to go so early.
I wasn’t ready to let her go.
I’m too busy cursing how cruel life has become to realize that Mare left her spot next to Pippa and is already standing at the wood podium at the front of the church. She’s got her hair pulled back, away from her face, and she doesn’t have even a lick of makeup on. She’s cried so much that her nose is red.
She shuffles the papers on the podium. Her shoulders rise and fall as she takes a deep breath. I don’t know why Pippa asked her to do this. I know it must be hard. I’ll never forget having to watch her speak at her own mother’s funeral when she was just ten years old. It was agonizing watching her do it back then. And it isn’t any easier now.
Mare fixes the microphone so it lines up with her mouth. “I think we can all agree that this is not the way Linda would’ve wanted to see us gathered here today.” She pauses, letting everyone laugh in an attempt to briefly lighten the solemn mood. “Linda loved an excuse to have a party and she’d hate to see all the misty eyes in this church.”
Everyone nods. This room is where everyone in the town gathers every Sunday. There’s no other choice. If you don’t show up, the town talks. Momma loved Sundays. She loved coming into town and socializing with everyone. Everyone in this room adored her.
“I don’t have to stand up here and tell you all how incredible of a woman Linda Jennings was.” She takes a breath. “Was,” she emphasizes. Shaking her head, her eyes roam over the crowd. “What a terrible way to talk about someone you loved with every fiber of your being. You never want to talk about someone you love in the past tense.” For a fraction of a second, her eyes land on me as the church stays silent. As soon as it happens, she’s moving on, keeping her composure as she continues to give the speech.
“With everything in me, I know all of you already know that we lost one of the best humans to walk this Earth. She’ll be terribly missed, and I think it’ll be a long time until it really sinks in that she isn’t here anymore. I don’t want to stand up here and go on and on about how we will move on from this because truthfully—I don’t know how we will.”
Mare’s eyes meet mine again, and it feels like we’re the only two people in this room. I’m captivated by her. By the composure she keeps. I only know she’s nervous because I can see the slight tremble of her hands. “How does one move on from knowing somebody so incredible? The answer is pretty simple, actually—you don’t.”
Pippa reaches across my lap and grabs my hand. Her hand is hot and clammy as she squeezes mine tightly. I squeeze hers back, hoping the counter pressure will help her get through this.
“I’m not here to get over the death of Linda. Instead, I’m here to talk about the life of Linda. Because one thing I’m sure of when it comes to Linda Jennings is that she’d much rather be known for her life than for her death. I want to talk about that life a little today. If that’s okay with you all,” she adds nervously.
I might be angry with her for leaving this town behind, but the people who all watched her grow up don’t seem to hold the same grudge. They watch her with soft smiles and admiration on their faces as they wait for her to continue.
“I sat on these church stairs years ago when I lost my momma. I’d tried to escape from the crowd. It was all too much for me at the time. Linda came looking for me as soon as I ran off during the service. I’d snapped at her, too hurt to allow someone to comfort me at the time. I’d told her I wanted to be alone. Linda had nodded, but I can tell you what she didn’t do. She didn’t leave me alone. She brushed her hands down her finest black dress and took a seat right next to me, even though the stairs were dirty and ice-cold. Now that I think about it, I think they may have even had snow on them. She didn’t seem to care. I remember her words clear as day. She said, ‘That’s fine if you don’t want to talk, Marigold. But one thing I’m not going to do is let you feel such big feelings alone.’”
I hear the hitch in her voice. For a moment, Mare’s eyes flutter shut as she tries to keep the tears at bay. “And from that day forward, she kept her word. She never left me alone—even when at times”—her eyes found mine once again—“I deserved to be left alone and didn’t deserve her love.”
I feel a stab of hurt. I know Mare is referencing her leaving, and how my mom was relentless in keeping in touch with her even if she was hundreds of miles away. I only opened that wound when I pointed out to Mare how she’d never come home to visit my mom.
“But she gave it to me anyway. That day, when I’d finished crying and needed someone there, she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into her lap. She wiped my tears and braided my unkempt hair. She told me, ‘I’ll never try to replace your momma, Marigold. But I’ll be whatever you need. Every little girl deserves a momma, and if you’ll let me, I’ll do my best.’ And that’s what she did. Her best. She became the only mother-figure I knew, even though she didn’t have to.”
She reaches up and wipes underneath her eyes. Her hand covers her mouth for a moment as she tries to keep herself together. My fingers twitch. I want to stand up and comfort her. To do something to stop the tears from falling.
“Linda Jennings taught me a lot about what a mother’s love feels like. And I think if all of you here were to think about her, you’d have a story to add that encompassed how deep her love ran for those she cared about. For a moment, I want everyone to close their eyes and think of a favorite memory you have with Linda.”
She nods her head. “Please,” she encourages. “Close your eyes and think about a time that you felt that love. I know that’s what she’d want to be remembered for.”
As if to lead by example, she pinches her eyes shut. I look to my sides, noticing how the people I’ve grown up with all close their eyes. Sniffles are heard through the room as Mare gives everyone a chance to follow her direction.
Even though it hurts to think of happy times, I find my eyes closing. My chest feels too heavy as I think about the times I took for granted…
At the times my mom was here and we were happy.
