After Mom, Uncle, and Nina have their moments, my time comes. I approach the casket slowly, fearfully almost, even though earlier I mentally prepared myself for what to expect. Pó Po’s hair has been restyled in her usual permed curls, and at once I relax at the familiar sight of her. With her makeup and personal clothing, she looks like the Pó Po I’ve always known. I lift my blanket, being mindful to remember this moment, and gently layer it on top of Nina’s blanket.
“If you want to say something, now’s the time,” Mom says. “Auntie and I will say something at the end.”
I look out toward a mix of familiar and strange faces, finding comfort knowing that we’re all here for one purpose: to honor Pó Po’s memory and the life she led. I twist the dangling crescent moon around my neck.
Standing where the magician was just minutes ago, I address the group.
“June Huang was an extraordinary woman,” I start, my voice shaky. “Her legacy proves it. In all her stubbornness, for better or worse, she owned who she was. Her life wasn’t perfect or easy. She never expected it to be. But even in hard times, she kept going. She persevered. Life won’t ever be the same here on earth without her, but it brings me some comfort knowing that she’ll be working her magic in the afterlife and continuing to make others happy. Pó Po, we love you, and we miss you. It goes without saying that you’ve made this world a better place just by being in it.
“My love for you is fuller than the fullest moon,” I whisper to Pó Po, stealing one last look at her. Tears fall from my eyes onto the blanket. They absorb into the cloth, little pieces of me to accompany Pó Po on her journey.
I lift my pinky to her and imagine her linking hers with mine, our thumbs pressing together in unison. I want it so badly that I can feel the pressure against my thumb.
I make eye contact with Mae Yí-Pó in the group and say out loud, “Someone wise taught me that long lives are worth celebrating. So that’s what we’re going to do.”
I pull out my phone and tap Play on the first song on my moon playlist. The high opening jingle of King Harvest’s “Dancing in the Moonlight” floats out of the speaker.
Slowly shimmying my shoulders to the beat, I hold two sideways peace signs in front of my tear-filled eyes and pull them apart. I tap my foot and move my body to the rhythm.
As the beat picks up, I extend my arm diagonally up to the ceiling with a disco finger and then bring it down across my body. I twirl a couple of times over to Pó Po, extending my hand out to her and pretending to spin her around. My family watches on, momentarily stunned.
I sidestep across the room before salsa stepping back to the other side. Uncle Rupert starts snapping but doesn’t fully commit to the cause. Even Colette, who loves to dance, stays seated. Having used up all the dance moves I know, I move my body to the beat, making it up as I go.
I’m dancing alone until someone sitting in the back stands up and starts swaying his arms side to side, snapping to the beat. The man does the Twist around amused family members, making his way to the center of the room. All eyes are now on him as he does the Electric Slide between dangling streamers.
As he gets closer, I see that the man doing the moonwalk down the aisle is Bennett. My breath catches in my chest. Even after everything, seeing him here is more than I could’ve hoped for. Bennett and I don’t exchange words. We just keep dancing to the music, our eyes locked on one another.
Following our leads, Nina and Asher finally jump up and join us, holding their hands up in the air. Auntie shyly stands and wiggles her hips. Dad holds his hand out for Mom and twirls her in place. Mae Yí-Pó and Dale Yí-Gong pump their arms up and down enthusiastically, encouraging others to celebrate with us.
Before I know it, the entire room is up and dancing. Smiles form on everyone’s faces. Some people even sing along.
Wherever she is, I know Pó Po is smiling and dancing right along with us.
Chapter 23
When the service concludes, I search for Bennett among faces I both recognize and don’t. I wind through the crowd, hoping to find a towering man in a white cashmere sweater.
An older woman in a vanilla-colored velvet shawl gently places her hand on my arm. “I wanted to say how very sorry I am about your grandmother. I was one of June’s clients back in the day,” the stranger says.
“Thank you for being here,” I reply, distracted.
“My granddaughter’s here with me. Tiff!” the woman calls out, slowly lifting her arm to wave a younger woman over to us. I look past the woman’s shoulder to see if Bennett’s behind her.
“Hi, I’m Tiff. You’re Olivia, right?” Tiff asks in an excited tone.
I’m too determined to find Bennett to pay much attention to the women in front of me. “I am, yes.”
“Your grandmother was a legend. I’m sorry for your loss,” Tiff says.
“I appreciate that,” I say, growing antsy. “It was nice to meet you both.”
“Olivia! Before you go,” Tiff says. “Could I give you my card? I write for theLA Times,and I’d love to do a profile of you and your grandmother, and I believe your aunt? Lunar Love is a gem in LA. I haven’t found any in-depth pieces about your business. Sorry to bring up work right now, but I think Lunar Love’s story deserves to be told.”
I refocus on the woman in front of me. “Wow, yes. Of course. Thank you,” I say, caught off guard by the offer. I tuck her card into my tote. “Sorry for being so out of it right now, but I’d love to share Pó Po’s story.”
I say goodbye and continue my search. With no luck inside, I walk outside into the chilly evening air. Under lit pathways, guests gather and reunite. They discuss what a shame it is to have fallen out of touch with one another and how wonderful it is to see one another again after all these years. Pó Po always loved bringing people together, no matter the occasion.
For a few minutes, I stand silently looking out over the dark, sprawling, green-sloped lawn in the cemetery. Rows of neat round hedges line the man-made paths. Mountains surround the land, serving as a peaceful backdrop in this final resting place.
