Chapter 33 Maya #2
My arms tighten. I get it now, why he says it so often. We never know when it will be the last time we get to say it, so we have to make every moment count.
This headstrong, cocky man swept into my life and turned it upside down. He taught me what it’s like to love harder than I ever thought possible. I wouldn’t give him up for anything.
“I love you more,” I confess.
“Impossible.”
“Well, we have the rest of our lives together to see who wins this time.”
His chest shakes with his chuckle. “Challenge accepted.”
I press on tiptoe and he meets me in a kiss.
The funeral is on Wednesday. Because of the short notice, we end up having the events out of order due to the church and the funeral home being overbooked. The viewing is after today’s memorial service, then the burial is tomorrow.
I sit through the service tucked into Ryan’s side. Dad gives the eulogy, but Mom has to finish it for him when he becomes too emotional to speak about his father’s life.
Easton doesn’t make it until just before the viewing in the afternoon. He’s partway through changing into a suit when I go outside to meet him. Ryan hands him a jacket he brought with him while Easton buttons up his shirt.
“Thanks. I didn’t want to be wrinkled when I got here.”
“Thanks for coming.” Ryan rubs his nape. “It’s got to be tough to drive back and forth right before playoffs. I know everything you’ve been doing the last few days means a lot to her.”
“Of course I came. She needs me, I’m there.” Easton’s gaze finds me and he strides over. “Hey. I’m sorry I missed the service. We had a team meeting that ran long.”
I shake my head, stepping into his embrace when he opens his arms. “This is good.”
His cheek rests against the top of my head. “How are you holding up?”
I shrug. “Sucky.”
He squeezes me. “That’s okay. I’m here now.”
“The funeral home won’t open to the public for another half hour. It’s just the family inside now.”
“Do you want to go in?”
Taking a shaky breath, I nod. “I haven’t seen him yet. I want to, before it’s too late and I lose the chance.”
He keeps his arm around me on our way in. We wait for one of my aunts to finish first.
Dread knots my stomach as we approach for my turn. I wasn’t able to see him once I got home. This is the first time I’ll face him since he passed away.
The cushion to kneel on beside the casket feels strange against my tights. All the fresh flower arrangements tickle my nose with their strong perfume.
I stare at the pastel blue cushion, willing myself to look up. My chest heaves in trepidation.
“It’s okay.” Easton rubs my back, kneeling beside me. “You have all the time you need, Maya. Breathe for me.”
I’m not prepared when I lift my gaze.
It’s—wrong to see him lying so still. So stiff.
Whenever I caught him napping on the couch when I visited his house in high school, he’d sleep hard with his mouth open, snoring loud enough to wake the neighbors on either side of the dairy farm.
He’s like a waxy doll. His hands are arranged over his stomach. They’re far more frail and bony than when I last saw him.
Sliding my lips together, I gather the courage to hold his hand. A startled noise catches in my throat.
“It’s cold,” I whisper.
Cold. Rigid. Unable to hold my hand like he did when I was a little girl.
Easton covers my hand with his. I close my eyes as more memories with Grandpa hit me.
All the times we spent together in the stable.
The day he gave me the Donnelly Dairy hat I love so much.
When I was younger and so excited when me and Ryan got to have a sleepover with him at the farm.
The first time the car broke down while I was driving and calling him to walk me through what to do.
He’s always been there and now he won’t be.
In my head, I hear his voice calling me chicken.
I cover my face, breath quickening into sharp gasps. Easton helps me to my feet and tugs me into his arms. He guides me away from the casket to find us a private corner for my breakdown.
“I know, baby,” he says gruffly. “I know.”
When I calm down, he’s massaging my nape. I lift my head from his chest, frowning at the wet spot and mascara smearing his shirt. At this rate, I think I’ve cried off all the makeup I reapplied after the service.
“You’re a mess now. I’m sorry.”
“What are you apologizing for? Come on.” He captures my hand and finds the bathroom. “I don’t care about my suit.”
“Why can’t I stop?” I mumble. “No one else is losing it as much as I am.”
“Because loss fucking hurts. Everyone handles it differently. So no shame—cry your eyes out. Feel whatever you’re feeling as long as you don’t bottle it up. Trust me, it doesn’t work.” His lips twist ruefully. “It’ll still come out.”
He picks through the basket stocked with toiletries, finding a packet of makeup wipes. Grasping my chin, he carefully wipes my face clean with a cool, soothing wipe.
“What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m good.” Once he’s done, he wets a thick napkin and holds it over my puffy eyes. “How’s that feel?”
“Nice,” I murmur.
A few minutes later, he tosses the damp napkin and swipes hair from my face. My lips wobble, not quite forming a smile.
Determined to be useful in some way, I pin him against the counter when he tries to leave the bathroom. He dutifully lets me do what I can to clean the makeup stains off his shirt. I’m not sure if I’ve made it better or worse.
“Should’ve worn a black one instead of white,” he says with a snort. “It’s fine. This jacket’s a little tight, but I think I can get it buttoned if you want.”
I shake my head. We linger in the bathroom for another moment, but I can’t hide out forever. Eventually, we make our way back out.
After the viewing, most of my extended family and close friends move to a pub Grandpa liked to celebrate his life. More memories of times we spent here flood me while they laugh and toast to Grandpa, telling stories about the good times and the bad.
My aunts help put Dad in better spirits until he’s the one telling most of the stories. They laugh and cry, their tears tinged with fond happiness and love for the man who was the pillar of our entire family.
Easton chuckles at the funny ones, keeping an arm wrapped around me. My heart might be crushed right now, but I’m so glad to have him here with me. I rest my head against him, shaking it when he tries to get me to eat something.
“I just need you,” I whisper.
“You’ve got me. Here, at least nibble on the bread. It’ll help your stomach settle.”
It takes me all night, but I get down small bites.
He’s right. The food does help.
It’s hours after dark by the time we get back to my family’s house from the pub. Easton follows me upstairs and sits me on the bed, removing my heels to rub my tired feet. I drop my head back with a grateful sigh.
“You’re the best.”
The corner of his mouth kicks up. “That’s always what I strive for. Tell me what else you need right now.”
I bite my lip as I think it over. “A walk.”
His handsome warm blue eyes crinkle while he starts humming the tune for the chorus of I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) by The Proclaimers. My tall, muscled hockey player boyfriend kneels at my feet, humming a song to tell me he’d go anywhere for me—with me.
The cracks of my grieving broken heart fuse together as it swells in my chest with a tender glow. Even though this is all so hard, I know I’ll be okay because I have him there to catch me whenever I fall. And I want to be that same comfort for him, too.
For the first time in the last few long, draining days, a genuine smile breaks free.
“There’s my girl,” Easton murmurs.
I bite my lip. “Are you sure? I could go by myself. You’re probably exhausted. You need to sleep since you have to get up early.”
His fingers loop around my ankles, gliding up my calves. “What did I say about you going out alone?”
I hunch forward to hug him, not needing to repeat his promise when he first found out I like to walk at night to calm my anxiety. “Okay. I don’t think I need a long one.”
“Change while I run to the car to get my bag. I picked up more of your stuff from Reagan before today’s practice. I’m pretty sure she packed your running shoes.”
Once I throw on comfortable clothes to walk in, I stand at the wall of photos. Even though Easton won’t be with me when we bury Grandpa I think I’ll be okay. His advice from earlier when he wiped off my makeup has stuck with me all night.
I don’t know that I’ll ever fully be ready to say goodbye to Grandpa, but I can allow myself to feel whatever I need to.