I close my eyes and take a deep breath, fighting back the rush of tears threatening to spill out of my eyes as I transition to talking about my sister. Clearing my throat, I look back up at the crowd before me and use every ounce of self control to keep myself from falling apart.
“Belle was my first friend. My best friend. My big sister and my role model. Our grandmother called her Sunshine, or Sunny, because she always provided warmth, happiness, and light wherever she went.”
Deep breath, Alis. Deep breath.
“To know Belle was to love her. She was everyone’s cheerleader, and when she spoke to you she made you feel like the most important person in the world. Her ability to make even strangers feel at home in her presence was truly remarkable.
“We used to joke that once we were gone nobody could honestly say ‘she never had a bad thing to say about anyone’. But the truth is, the only times Belle ever had something negative to say was when a person bullied or belittled someone else. And even then, her negative words didn’t stand alone — she always had something positive to say or some constructive criticism to help that person grow. Her words were never wasted on gossip; she was a counselor and friend.
“Belle loved her family more than anything. She was dad’s first princess, mom’s right-hand woman, Alex’s love and partner, Sunny’s incredible mom, and my other half. She made sure to FaceTime her in-laws every week so Sunny could know them, even though they live across the pond. She loved this town and everyone in it, and I know she’s smiling down on all of us right now. She wouldn’t want us to be sad for long, but to remember the countless good times we spent with her.
“Alex, I love you, brother. And Belle, I love you and I miss you so much that sometimes I can’t breathe. You both were taken from us too soon, but everyone in this room can say their lives are better forknowing you. We’ll all love and take care of Sunny and we’ll make sure she feels your love even though you can’t be here with her.”
Wrapping up emotional speeches has never been my forte. I offer a final word of gratitude to everyone in attendance and make my way back to my seat, flanking Mom and Sunny. To my relief, Sunny sleeps soundly. Her nestled presence in Mom's arms, I believe, offers Mom a semblance of comfort during this trying time.
The exhaustion in Mom's eyes speaks volumes. Days of ceaseless tears have left their mark, and her lack of sleep is evident. Dad, in his effort to remain our pillar of strength, keeps his grief under wraps. Yet, last night, I chanced upon him in his study, silently shedding tears as he lost himself in the warm glow of the fireplace. He seemed unaware of my presence at the door. Respecting his moment of solitude, I withdrew, seeking refuge in Belle's bed, hoping for a few hours of rest before the draining day ahead.
The service draws to an end with a reading of Scriptures, followed by a heartfelt prayer. The somber procession of pallbearers then escorts both Belle and her husband to their final resting place, nestled side by side behind the church. As Sunny stirs, I brace myself, sensing she’s about to rouse from her nap.
"Mom, I'll take her. Walk with Dad and the Donnellys. We'll follow right behind."
Handing me the drowsy Sunny, Mom offers a gentle smile, though it fails to touch the depth of her eyes. I seize these brief moments away from the crowd to center myself, drawing strength from Sunny, hoping that will suffice for the burial.
A sudden squeeze on my shoulder jolts me. "Hey, babe, need help?" It's Tori, with Skye just steps behind. I'm grateful it's them – their mere presence provides a buffer against the looming swell of emotions.
"Hey. Could you prepare her bottle? I need to check her diaper."
Tori promptly retrieves the essentials from the diaper bag, while I lay Sunny on a pew. Sunny's eyes, now open, sparkle as they fixate on the stained-glass windows.
"Thank you for staying calm through the service and not causinganother wardrobe mishap," I murmur, tickling her. As I lift her, Skye playfully warns, "You might've just jinxed yourself there."
Grinning, I retort, "Then I'll be sure she's aimed in your direction when disaster strikes." Skye's mock-horrified expression soothes my aching heart, providing a moment of solace.
Tori, ever the group's anchor, rounds us up. "They're waiting. Let's go." The role she assumes today, alongside Skye, becomes my lifeline.
The burial concludes swiftly. I hoped it would grant closure, but my heart still feels torn between numbness and engulfing sorrow. An emotional middle ground seems unreachable.
Back home, the house remains a sanctuary, devoid of visitors, save for Tori and Skye. They insist on staying, and I'm grateful, even though I put on a front of self-sufficiency.
"You've been on duty non-stop. Rest," Tori firmly advises.
Before I can protest, Skye chimes in, whisking Sunny from her car seat. The ease with which Sunny nestles into Tori’s embrace attests to the bond she shares with my friends.
Tori reassures, "Chase knows I'm here for the night. I’ve got your parents. Skye, make sure Alis sleeps."
Obliging, Skye ushers me upstairs. "First, pee. Then, let’s get you out of that dress."
Exiting the bathroom, my amusement peaks at the sight of Skye's audacious pajamas. "Is that... a unicorn?"
"The epitome of comfort," she declares with a mischievous grin.
"It looks like a mythical creature threw up a rainbow hairball all over you," I jest.
Skye feigns indignation, "Wait till we're snuggling. You'll be begging for one."
“How are we friends?” I mumble as I pull my dress over my head, unclasp this ridiculous stupid bra that's been stabbing me all day, and change into my comfy clothes. She just chuckles, handing me a sock to help wipe away the residual tears streaking down my face.
I feel like I'm moving through molasses as I shuffle into Belle’s room. Skye pulls back the bedcovers, inviting me to sink into the familiar warmth. I comply, curling up in a ball, the weight of the day,the weight of loss pulling me down into the depths of the mattress. Skye slips in next to me, wrapping me in a warm embrace, her unicorn onesie surprisingly soft, albeit suffocating, against my skin.
