I threaded my arm through the crook of Dean’s elbow as the eulogies began.
Anyone was invited to speak and share stories that celebrated Sofia’s life, and there were plenty. One was about how she saved a young couple's wedding from disaster when the caterer fell through. Another was about the bonds of friendship Sofia nurtured with anyone who got to know her.
Once the last person left the lectern, the celebrant asked if there was anyone else who wanted to speak.
With my heart racing, I stood and approached the lectern as I unfolded the eulogy I had tucked into the pocket of my dress.
My choice to speak came as a surprise to Dean, but the appreciation and relief was evident in his expression. It was the first time he had looked up since the funeral began.
“Sofia was a survivor,” I said. “She was a strong, independent woman who faced adversity head-on and managed to remain relentlessly positive every time… I didn’t know her for as long as most of you here today, but from the moment I met her, she treated me like we had been friends for years. She welcomed me into the Moretto family without hesitation; with open arms, food, and an ear to listen.” I offered Dean a small smile. He returned it with tears in his eyes, in no way helping my effort to keep myself from crying. I huffed a quiet laugh and inhaled shakily as I looked back at my notes. “I think the easiest way to see the effects of her big heart and undying love, and loyalty is to look at her son. The morals he lives by are all a reflection of the woman who raised him.” Another look at Dean told me the message was received. He wasn’t to blame for any of this and needed to know that. Sofia wouldn’t want him to blame himself for any of it.
“Sofia, I will miss you.” My hands shook as I folded up the eulogy notes and walked quietly back to my seat. I managed to keep it together, taking a deep breath to still my nerves as Dean took my hand.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
The funeral drew to a peaceful end with the celebrant instructing everyone that there would be food and warm beverages in the other room. Slowly, the guests left the chapel a row at a time, heading for the back doors until eventually the chapel was empty save for Dean and me.
I stepped into the aisle, expecting Dean to follow, but he approached the coffin and placed his hand on the lid. A tear streaked down his cheek, but his composure was impenetrable. He unclenched his jaw and spoke softly.
“Pò ripusari ora.”
When the day was over, and everyone began to head out, I approached the funeral director and celebrant to thank them, but also to discuss what happened next. It was the kind of conversation that didn’t seem real — discussing how long a cremation took and when to pick up the ashes.
They gave me a time frame of three days. I thanked them again, and then I walked away like I still hadn’t stepped back into reality yet. Death was one thing, but the preparations afterwards were just as hard. It cemented that she was never coming back.
Outside, the sky was overcast, and there was a wintery chill in the air. I rubbed my arms as I scanned the area for Dean. Friends of Sofia’s still lingered for a chat, but it was the short line of people to the left of the door by a garden of roses that helped me spot him.
He was curtly accepting condolences from the guests as they left, keeping his hands buried in his pockets. His face was drawn, and his eyes were hollow, but he managed several small smiles of thanks if someone patted his shoulder or pulled him into a hug.
Once each person had moved on, he would press his lips together and clench his jaw before the next person came along.
He wanted out.
I picked up my pace, also accepting several compliments about the service as I went. I smiled politely at them but kept going until Kira approached. I slowed for her.
“Hey,” I breathed.
“Hi.” She pulled me into a hug immediately.
“That was harder than I thought,” I muttered over her shoulder.
I spotted Seb approaching Dean. The arrival of his friend caused his shoulders to relax.
“You handled it like a boss,” Kira said, pulling back. “I would’ve been a mess.”
“I almost was.” I lifted my hands to show her the shake that remained.
She half smiled out of sympathy. “I’m still proud of you. Also,” she took my hands, “Seb and I might avoid the apartment for a while to give you guys some space.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, of course. Funerals are overwhelming, and we figured Dean would like the quiet right now.”
“Thank you.”
We approached the guys as they waited by the rose bush. Kira offered Dean a hug that was the first of few he was happy to accept, and then our friends left for Seb’s bike, hand in hand.
As we watched them leave, Dean slid his hands back into the pockets of his pants, only to withdraw something from within the pocket.
