Now my mind spins with different scenarios of why they didn’t work out and I’m tempted to run inside and read the note on her casket in its entirety. I know that the pastor has been divorced for over a decade, and my mom isn’t the type to be a mistress, but I can’t help but think something scandalous might have happened. Did her cancer keep them apart, his relationship with God? His family?
Owen stops me in the middle of the parking lot, pulling me from my thoughts. He looks back at the church. "Are you saying your mom and the pastor were … together?"
"I'm saying they weresomething."
In the hot summer sun, Owen tugs me to his chest. "She must have had a reason for not telling you."
I'm sure she did. People keep secrets for different reasons. I know a little something about that.
We get in Owen's car and he cranks the air conditioning.
"Can I stay at your place tonight?" I shrug out of the cardigan I wore over my dress. "I don't want to be alone in my house right now."
"Actually," Owen says, turning to face me, "what do you think about putting your stuff into boxes and bringing them to my place, then taking the stuff out of boxes and putting them in drawers and cabinets?"
My mouth drops open. I'm still reeling from the watch, and now this? "You want me to move in with you?"
"Yes." He purses his lips nervously.
I laugh. I don't know why but I'm laughing, and then I'm crying, and Owen pulls me into a hug and wipes away my tears.
"Of course, I'll move in with you," I say, sniffling. "I don't know why I'm laughing. Or crying. It's just a lot. This day is a lot."
He nods and then a nervous look creeps over his face. “I wanted to ask you something else … but this day is probably not the time for it.”
I frown. “Is it a good something?”
He nods, his eyes piercing into me.
“Well, then today is perfect for it because I don’t want to remember this heavy feeling.”
He takes my hand. “You know how you told me that your mom’s last words to you were how much she loved being your mom and how much she loved you?”
I nod, getting teary-eyed at the memory. Dropping my hand, Owen reaches into his pocket and pulls out a slim ring box.
My eyes widen.
“Well … your mom’s last words to me were to give me her blessing for us to marry…” He gulps. “If you’ll have me.”
A sob breaks through my throat and I feel it then. A small tingle up my arm, a presence in the car with us.
My mom.
“Yes!” I cry out and we crash together, kissing as my tears fall in a seal around our lips.
It’s not as perfect as some may think this should be, proposing in a car at my mother’s funeral, but it’s perfect for me. It gives me hope in a future with Owen, a future I will have to navigate on my own, without my mother. It gives me faith that things are going to be okay.
Hah.Faith. Something I had with me my entire life.
That night, after unpacking most of my things and setting them up around Owen’s house and in his dresser, I snuggle in beside him to go to sleep. Staring down at the huge princess-cut stone on my left finger, I smile.
What an emotionally draining yet also fulfilling day.
Owen reaches for me, his hand landing softly on my abdomen.
My abdomen.
My eyes flutter open, then close, and as I'm slipping back into sleep, I have a final, drowsy thought.
