It's a Wonderful Death - Sarah J. Schmitt Page 0,83
if one more person tries to make me feel better. But then I hear Madeline’s voice citing Rule Number One—the one about family. I lean over and whisper, “I love you,” in Mom’s ear.
The tension in her body eases as relief fills her eyes. I may not like what she’s done to our family, and I definitely don’t approve of her affair, but she’s my mom. I love her and I know nothing will ever change that.
The rest of the service passes in a blur. A couple of girls from the choir sing a series of uplifting and inspiring songs as pictures of Madeline flash before us on a screen. Next to me, Daniel stiffens and then shudders. Even though I’m afraid any physical connection will send me over the emotional edge I’m teetering on, I reach out and take his hand as only someone who shares his grief can do. He hangs onto it like a lifeline and I want to tell him he’s hurting me. But I don’t because the pain reminds me I’m alive.
When the minister ends his speech, Daniel bravely stands and marches with the other pallbearers to escort the love of his life out of the building, carefully avoiding the red, tear-stained faces that follow him. I wonder if he will ever be able to love someone like he did Madeline.
That’s when I hear her voice whispering, “He will. Someday. It won’t be easy, but he will.” I can’t explain what happens, but I smile at the sound, even if it’s only in my head. I get the feeling that she’s alright with the idea of him moving on. I watch the procession and try to put aside the fact that I’m hearing the voice of my dead best friend. I allow my thoughts to drift back to the nights spent talking with her in the hospital. I could always tell when Daniel had been in before me by the glow of happiness on her face. I smile as I remember her telling me about their first kiss. She was positively radiant. That hour at the end of the day made the rest of the time bearable.
I look up in surprise as everyone stands to gather their belongings. It’s over. All I have to get through is the part where they actually put her in the ground. Mechanically, I stand, fighting the temptation to escape. Only family and a few friends will accompany the body to the grave site. The rest of the crowd will probably go home or head over to the luncheon Madeline’s church is hosting. Those of us going to the cemetery will follow the casket out to the waiting hearse.
Daniel moves his car behind the sedan that will carry Madeline’s parents to the cemetery. From the driver’s seat his eyes plead with me to ride with him. I motion for him to wait and walk over to my parents’ car.
“Hey, do you mind if I go with Daniel?” I ask, biting into my lip. It’s the first time I’ve spoken since being on stage and my voice sounds raspy and weak.
“He’s not riding with his parents?” my mother asks, looking over my shoulder. “Are you sure he’s alright to drive?”
“I don’t think he wants to come back here to pick up his car later,” I offer, not wanting to give her any reason to say no. “And he’s fine to drive. If anything, me being with him will help him focus.”
My dad speaks up. “Of course you can. We’ll see you there.”
“Thanks,” I say with a smile and rush back to Daniel’s car before my mom can veto his decision.
“Ready?” I ask through the window. I try to sound upbeat but the attempt is an utter failure.
He nods and slumps down in the driver’s seat, turning the ignition in one quick motion. I pause, trying to stop the next wave of tears that threatens to flow freely down my face. With renewed resolve to get through this day, I flick the purple magnetic flag the funeral staff put on top of the car to identify us as part of the entourage and climb in. The processional takes us into Indianapolis where Madeline’s family has a plot at a cemetery. Did they buy it before their daughter got sick or after? I guess it doesn’t matter now.
The drive seems to take forever with neither one of us talking. And when we pull up next to the freshly dug grave, Daniel opens the