And she was still so beautiful at forty-nine.
Her big sister was the captain of the cheerleaders and the president of the Honor Society. She had thick ash-blonde hair that, these days, she always had in a ponytail or clipped up out of the way. Ali used to have the most gorgeous highlights in the summer.
Faye was worried about Ali, though.
In the dead of winter, in Toledo, at this funeral, it looked very much like Ali needed Vitamin D or a nap or better concealer. Then again, they were in the thick of it right now.
Caring for and then burying Bruce Kelly had sucked. Faye was numb, too. And she’d done half as much as Ali.
Ali Kelly Harris was a superstar in Faye’s eyes. But even through the lens of love, she saw the truth. Ali’s eyes were tired. Two dark circles under them looked almost like bruises.
In the last seven days, Ali had confidently made calls, sympathetically informed distant cousins of the news, decided on a casket, taken in a million casseroles, and managed to make a potluck at the Conn Weissenberger American Legion Hall look like a catered affair.
Bruce Kelly wasn’t all that religious, but he was very patriotic. He was the proud son of a World War II vet and served with the Marine Corps in Vietnam.
It made sense, holding this gathering at the hall, with its dropped ceiling, wood chair rale, and rows and rows of white tablecloth covered eight tops filling the space. There was a bar on the far end of the room where they’d set up coffee, soda pop, and water for mourners. The large kitchen featured a serving window. American flags, lists of members, founders, and trophies were randomly displayed. And there was plenty of parking. Ali also pointed out that all of Dad’s old cronies would be able to find it. There was nothing fancy or pretentious, but it was serviceable and familiar. Plus, the Kelly Sisters knew exactly how to run an event here.
They’d had Ali’s wedding reception here. Nothing fancy for the Kelly Sisters. Somehow, the sisters made every gathering sparkle. They were sort of known for it.
But really it was Ali. She was the engine behind any magical moment that Faye and Blair had ever experienced.
Faye thought back to this space, this hall. Dad said graduation parties were “ridiculous.”
“You’re not accomplishing a darn thing getting out of high school. I expect it. Welcome to work!” That’s what he told Ali.
Dad hadn’t let Ali have a grad party. Even though Faye knew everyone at Whitmer High School would have attended a party for her big sister. Ali was friends with everyone! But no, no party. Bruce Kelly put his foot down on that one. Faye remembered her father putting his foot down a lot.
When Faye graduated two years later, Ali had taken charge. She hadn’t listened to Bruce Kelly’s rule about what should be celebrated. Ali had insisted. She’d rented this hall, enlisted her friends to cook food, and strung Christmas lights all over the ceiling. The place had looked amazing! Faye Kelly had the grad party of Ali’s dreams.
Of course, by the time Blair graduated, Bruce had revised his thinking and allowed them to rent a shelter house at Olander Park, all the way out in Sylvania. It was practically fancy by Kelly standards. Even then you could see Ali’s career path developing. She was so good at planning the best parties. And now, she was doing it for the entire town at the Frogtown Convention Center. And, of course, not getting the credit she deserved. Ugh. It drove Faye up the wall. Ali was why that place was always booked and everyone had good experiences in downtown Toledo.
Faye turned her attention to her younger sister, Blair.
Ali had made that call, too. Faye could still hear it, see it. Ali telling Blair, with a gentle tone, that Dad had passed. “I know, sweetie. He loved you so much. It’s okay.”
Ali had comforted Blair. But who comforted Ali? Faye tried, but it was easy to see the coping mechanism Ali had employed their entire lives was action oriented. Do things. Keep busy!
Blair Kelly lived in Cincinnati. Four hours away by car. Her job in IT could be done remotely, so that was good. But it was also bad. She could never fully leave the office.
Faye had seen Blair step out and log on to her work laptop several times in the last three days. You’d think someone else could cover her job during her father’s funeral?
Ali made sure Blair didn’t have any responsibilities other than just being here. She’d told Blair as much when she’d made that initial phone call.
“There’s nothing to be done right now. We’re going to have services on Thursday. Just get here by then.”
Ali was making it easier for Blair. Faye tried to make it easier for Ali. Yet Ali hadn’t cracked, not once, since all this started.
Dad had died at 2 am on a Tuesday, and by noon that day, Ali had most of the details arranged. Visitation and services were set for Thursday.
As they accepted hugs and well wishes from Bruce’s crew at the plant, fellow Jeep retirees, and a few of the Kelly cousins from Flat Rock in Michigan, Faye realized she’d not helped her sister at all. She’d just done as Ali asked. Maybe that was a help?
Faye walked over to Ali and stood beside her. Ali was accepting another hug graciously. This hug was from Ollie Hoolihan, an old friend and fellow Jeep retiree. He had ideas and he was letting Ali know all about them.
“We need to name the Euchre tournament after him. That’s what I’m working on. He started it, you know, back in 1977. We even did it in the Blizzard of ’78!”
“Ah, that’s lovely, Ollie, he did love Euchre.”
Bruce Kelly had taught his three girls how to drive a stick shift, change their own tires, and “go it alone” in Euchre. That memory of their dad almost made Faye cry. She blinked away the tears threatening to form.
