Chapter 18
eighteen
Rosalie
My alarm clock blares to life the following morning, and I force my eyes open.
It’s quite the feat since they feel dry and swollen, definitely a product of the toxic combination of crying and my late night.
I briefly picture Will Smith’s character from Hitch when he has an allergic reaction to seafood and briefly shoot up a prayer I don’t look like that.
Reaching blindly for my phone on the nightstand to turn off the offending noise, I notice Cameron has sent me a text.
CAMERON
Good morning. Everything is going to be fine. Your tribute to your mom is honest and heartfelt with just the right amount of humor. Be proud of yourself for sharing it with everyone, and know that your mom is proud of you too.
Well, hell. He couldn’t have sent more perfect words for the day, and I tear up a bit, rereading his message a couple of times.
Good morning and thank you. I needed to hear those words. I know I have said this a million times this week, but thank you.
CAMERON
And I’ll say this a million times more if you need to hear it, but you’re welcome. This isn’t the way I planned to get to know you when I wrote my number on that receipt, but I’m glad I did.
Me too.
I don’t know what else to say or how to end this exchange. If I type any more, it will only lead to more profuse statements of gratitude or unhinged comments about how wonderful he is, and now isn’t the time to dive into all the ways he’s amazing. So, I awkwardly settle on an emoji.
::smiley face emoji::
Shaking my head, I get out of bed and head to Paige’s room to get her ready for the day. Stepping immediately into mom-mode is just what I need right now, a distraction from all that’s to come; however, when Paige is all dressed and ready to go, I can’t avoid it any longer.
Entering my old bedroom, I move toward the closet and take down the black dress I packed for the service.
We’ve asked the attendees to wear green in honor of my mom’s favorite color, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, instead choosing to wear a pair of her peridot earrings.
After threading them through my earlobes, I glance in the full-length mirror and smooth a hand over my hair and down the front of my dress, releasing a ragged breath.
“Rosie, are you ready to go?” Carter’s voice booms through the house.
“Yeah, I’ll be right there,” I say as I give myself one last glance in the mirror.
***
I look out from behind the podium to the packed church, and my eyes immediately begin to burn.
Seeing so many familiar faces staring back at me is a testament to all the lives my mom touched in her short time on Earth, and the feeling is immediately overwhelming.
The lump in my throat feels big enough to close off my airway, and I briefly wonder if I can make it through this in one piece or if I’m going to choke out every word.
I bring my eyes back to my family, their hands clasped tightly with one another’s, while Paige sits on Carter’s lap, his arm wrapped, snuggling around her waist. Jeremy’s face is already blotchy, and I fear, at this rate, he’ll run out of tissues soon.
Slowly, I look to Jeremy’s right, knowing the next pair of eyes will gut me.
Sure enough, when my eyes meet my dad’s, I see a facade of stoicism I know better than anyone.
Always the one to keep his emotions locked up tight, I can see the effort it’s taking for him to stay strong.
His eyes are wrought with sadness, and if I look closely enough, I can see his jaw trembling as he fights back the emotions threatening to overtake him.
The pain is almost unbearable and makes me want run to him rather than stand here and give this fucking speech. Instead, I dig my fingernails into my palms, giving me a different kind of pain to focus on, and look down at my papers.
Inhaling a shaky breath, I remind myself he asked me to do this, so I close my eyes for a brief second to center myself before I look up at the crowd with a wobbly smile and begin.
“Wow, what a turnout. My mom always knew how to throw the best parties.” I hear a few chuckles from those around the large room and it gives me the courage to proceed.
“Lilian Whittington, or Mom, as I affectionately called her, was an amazing woman who absolutely never met a stranger. Just looking around this room, I see the faces of so many lucky people who were able to call her a friend simply because she said hi.”
A tear escapes from the corner of my eye and I quickly swipe it away, forcing out a strangled laugh with my next words.
“It wasn’t always hi, though. Sometimes it was ‘Excuse me, I locked my keys in my car. Could I borrow your phone to call my husband?’ or ‘I’m so sorry my son stole that beer out of your garage, I’ll definitely be talking with him about it later. ’”
I hear a choked laugh from the front row, and when my eyes meet Jeremy’s, I give him a strained smile and little shoulder shrug.
“Regardless,” I continue, “my mom would always come out of any situation with a new friend. Later in life, she would even come to steal some of mine, something I’m still unsure how to feel about today.
After all, according to my mom, I never was a good sharer. ”
There’s more quiet laughter, and I take this time to look down at the podium and gather myself. The paper is blurry, and my jaw aches from holding back the wail that wants to escape, and it takes me longer than I’d like to gather myself before beginning again.
“I know she really was a fantastic friend to many of you but to me, she was my best friend. Honestly, she was my best everything—advice giver, mistake fixer, chocolate cake maker, party planner…” I swallow hard.
“She was the best daughter, wife, grandmother, and mom; she was everything I aspired to be.”
My next inhale is shaky, and I can feel the tears streaming down my face.
“She was funny, kind, giving, caring, loving, selfless—the list is incredibly long and frankly a little daunting,” I huff out. “But every day I will strive to be more like her because my mom was simply the best and her legacy deserves as much.”
I see nods of agreement as I chance a look around the room and take a moment to blow out a breath and wipe my eyes because I’m almost done.
“So, as you move forward today, reach out, make a new friend, share a story about my mom, and remember that friendships can start anywhere; all you have to do is say hi, or ‘Have you seen my son? He was just standing right here.’”
I gather my papers to the sounds of light laughter and sniffles, returning to the seat next to Carter.
With glistening eyes, he puts his arm around me, bringing me into his side.
“I see we didn’t incriminate ourselves in that lovely speech,” he says, right before kissing my temple and transferring Paige onto my lap.
I immediately hug her to my chest, soaking in the comfort simply holding my daughter provides. Her little arms cling to me and I clutch her to me a little tighter.
“Nana Lily really was the bestest grandma ever,” she whispers quietly in my ear.
Inhaling a stuttering breath and squeezing my eyes closed to block the immense wave of grief that just pummeled into me, I respond, “Yeah, baby, she really was.”
***
We walk through the front door as a family, pausing briefly to take in our new normal.
The one where my mom isn’t welcoming us in the front door and beckoning us into the kitchen.
The one where Paige isn’t streaking past us to give her grandma a hug with a squeal.
The one where my dad isn’t leaning down to kiss her in a way that had all of us blushing and looking away.
Things have changed, and I have no idea how I’m going to move forward without her.