The reverend spoke, but I wasn’t listening. My mom came to church occasionally, but she never forced me to go. Maybe I would start as a way to get closer to her.
“To give the eulogy is Miriam’s son, Cutter.”
Toni patted my shoulder and gave me a reassuring nod. I stood and took my speech out of my pocket. At the podium, I cleared my throat and began.
“To you, she was Miriam. To her best friend, she was Miri. To us, she was Mom. But mostly, to all of us, she was a friend, a neighbor, ‘Cutter or Nova’s mom,’ and rarely, ‘Ms. Vaughn,’ because she wanted my friends to feel welcome in our home.”
I cleared my throat to fight off the tightening. Crying was something I didn’t want to happen in front of these people, but it felt inevitable.
“My mom lived life with her whole heart. Her pride and joy, me and Nova, her words, not mine,” I said as everyone laughed. I sought out Toni, who smiled and nodded. “We were her reason for everything. When she wasn’t working, driving me to practice or Nova to the library, or coming to one of my games, she loved digging in her garden and sketching plans for the henhouse she planned to rebuild.
“She had a dream to one day own an old farmhouse and was able to make that dream come true five years ago. My mom loved our house and spent her free time remodeling each room. But the porch was her favorite place. If Nova and I couldn’t find her in the house, we’d find her in the rocking chair, staring off. Watching the sunset from her porch, regardless of the weather, was something she loved.”
I cleared my throat as I looked at the words of my last paragraph. “My mom was my best friend. For a while, it was just the two of us, and then Nova joined our perfect little family. We will never question whether our mom loved us because she told us every day, even on her last day. To our mom, my sister and I would like to say, ‘We love you, and every day we’ll continue to watch the sunset from the porch you loved so much, knowing that wherever you are, you’re watching it with us.’”
I folded my piece of paper and bolted from the podium to my seat. Toni stood and pulled me into her arms for a solid hug, and then she pulled back and cupped my face.
“That was perfect,” she said.
A small smile formed, and I said, “She was perfect.”
Chapter 27
Antonia
The service for Miri was lovely. I had thought about saying something, telling everyone our story, but in the end, I couldn’t bring myself to stand up there and look out at a sea of people dabbing their eyes. Selfishly, I didn’t want to share her with people I barely knew.
The reverend finished by inviting everyone over to Miri’s house. As soon as her parents had shown up, I wanted to tell him not to say anything, but something told me they’d end up finding us anyway.
While the pallbearers carried the casket toward the back of the church, Cutter, Nova, and my family followed behind. At a later date, the three of us would set Miri into the ground and cover her with the marker the kids had picked out for her. We wanted to say our own goodbyes in private.
Cutter and Nova stood by the black hearse, which would lead a procession to their home. Once the casket had been loaded, I spoke with the funeral director briefly and then sent the kids to my car.
Weston had stepped into a role I didn’t know I needed—a friend, a shoulder to cry on, and a protector—and walked next to me with his hand on my lower back until we’d reached my car.
“Do you want me to drive?” he asked, his mouth close to my ear. I nodded, and he guided me around to the passenger side and held thedoor open for me. He checked on the kids in the back seat and then shut my door.
He slid into the driver’s seat, pushed the starter, and then pressed the button for the flashers. The assistant to the funeral director pointed to where my car needed to be. Weston eased forward until he was behind the hearse.
“You did a nice job up there, Cutter,” Weston said, breaking the silence.
“That was hard and uncomfortable.”
“A eulogy will always be the hardest speech you write or give,” I added.
“How come I didn’t give one?” Nova asked.
The procession finally started, and I had to look away even though Miri wasn’t in the hearse in front of us. Just the fact that we were doing this hurt.
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” I said as I cleared my throat. “I didn’t think you’d want to stand up there.” I turned in my seat to face her. “Would you like to say something at the house when everyone is there?”
Nova nodded, but I suspected she wouldn’t want to once she had everyone’s attention on her. I reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “You did very well in church.”
“It was for Mommy.”
“I’m sure she was watching.”
Nova’s eyes roamed around the car and then looked out the window. She hadn’t smiled in days, and I missed seeing it. Nova reminded me so much of Miri in the way she looked and in her mannerisms.
