Grandma and Grandpa sneak past us. Grandpa murmurs that they’ll take their seats near the front.
Then, Mom finally lets Elowyn go.
Tears are falling down both their faces.
And for the first time since I decided to move to New York, I wonder if Elowyn will be okay.
“Would you like to sit with us?” Elowyn asks Mom.
“I don’t want to make your dad uncomfortable,” Mom replies.
Elowyn exhales. Hard. “He’s probably not going to make it.”
Mom clears her throat. “He’s never been good at this kind of stuff.”
“You mean life?” Elowyn bitterly replies.
“It doesn’t matter how anyone else shows up,” Mom says firmly. “Only how you do.”
Elowyn nods.
“You’re not responsible for his choices,” Mom continues. “Whether he’s here or not, that’s not on you.”
“Where have you been all my life?” Elowyn sniffles.
Mom looks to me. “I’m here now.”
We walk up to the front row with Elowyn as the choir begins singing.
Everything is a blur as a few people give speeches about how great Margot was. I wish I could say I knew her well enough to figure out if they’re telling the truth or not.
Elowyn speaks next. Just a short story about getting lost at the mall when she was five and screaming for her mom at the top of her lungs until she was found.
She can’t scream for her anymore, and it hits me how different our lives have been.
I learned early on that people come and go. Elowyn is learning that a little later in life. And I can tell it’s not a lesson that’s easy for anyone.
But a necessary one.
“You’re staying for refreshments, right?” Elowyn asks us.
“Of course,” Mom answers. Then, she turns to me. “Did she do all of this by herself?”
“I think so.”
“I hate that lying, piece of shi—”
“Mom,” I quietly interrupt. “We’re in a church.”
Mom rolls her eyes. “God’s heard worse.”
“Maybe we can just say it outside,” I suggest. “Far away from…” I trail off as my gaze lands on the Jesus stained-glass window.
“Fine,” Mom caves.
We make our way to the little reception room off to the left.
Ingrid stays on one side of me, and Cash on the other.
