“We must cherish what we have while we have it,” he says, voice trembling. “May we all have the courage to return for the people we love.”
The room is frozen in time as Eric finishes. Even Ember was shocked into silence by Eric’s impassioned speech. Geraldine slowly rises from her spot by Ewan, stepping in front of a crying Eric and throwing her arms around him in a tight embrace.
“She would’ve loved you,” she mumbles into his large chest.
Eric makes a small, startled sound and immediately wraps her in his arms. Ewan looks slightly hesitant, an outsider in this tiny family reunion. He places an awkward hand on Geraldine’s back, rubbing reassuring circles between her shoulder blades while the two dramatic relatives cry and sob. He clearly loves his boyfriend deeply.
Eric pulls out of the embrace first, wiping at his red-rimmed eyes with the sleeves of his flannel. “I meant every word,” he tells her.
“I know, dear,” she replies.
I step forward again, reclaiming the space before Eric could deliver a sequel. The rest of the service goes smoothly, with only one more impromptu speech by Geraldine. When all was said and done, Geraldine hugs me like I’m part of her family.
“This was perfect,” she whispered softly. “Thank you.”
A knot forms in my throat, and I struggle to maintain my professionalism. She might be a little eccentric, but she is sweet.
“It was lovely meeting you,” she said to Ewan.
“You as well, ma’am,” Ewan said with a small, respectful nod.
She smiles and pinches his cheek in a decidedly unmanly way, and he blushes a deep red. She hugs Eric and then takes his hands in hers.
“Your speech was beautiful. Mira would’ve enjoyed it.”
“I spoke straight from the soul,” Eric says, straightening his shoulders and adopting a serious expression. “After everything you’ve done for me, I can’t imagine losing you. I know she was someone similar to you. I’m so sorry for your loss, Aunt Geraldine.”
His wording was a little confusing, but it isn’t my business.
“When will the cremation happen?” Geraldine asks, her voice stronger than when she arrived.
I clear my throat of the sudden emotion clogging it. “We will prepare her… him… Mr. Pickles for cremation tomorrow. You can pick up her ashes next week. The jewelry you ordered made from the ashes will be another six to eight weeks after that. I’ll email you and give you a call whenever everything is ready.”
They leave after that, the door closing loudly behind them. The room is once again quiet, and I embrace the silence.
“Well, that was an odd group,” Ember says, stepping up beside me by the window.
“Yeah,” I murmur.
“They were great,” he says with a tilt of his head.
I think of Geraldine and her giant heart grieving for her cat and great aunt in tandem, Eric caring deeply about his aunt’s loss, and Ewan loving Eric so much that he finds his dramatics adorable.
“…Yeah, they were,” I agree.
The house creaks faintly above us, sounding almost like it agrees with my answer.
“I think,” Ember says, hands clasped neatly behind his back, “the bald one should be invited to future parties.”
“Stop calling funerals parties, Ember,” I say, dragging a hand down my face.
“They have speeches, refreshments, and decorations. Sounds like a party to me,” he counters.
“That’s not the point.”
Ember hums, consideringly. “Do you think he would deliver another heartwarming eulogy at my future reincarnation?” he asks.
“You aren’t dying, Ember.”
