Page 82 of Hard Hat Hottie

“Where else would I be?” She smiles.

I owe her a debt I’ll never be able to repay. While she earned her keep providing almost round-the-clock care for my mother in her last days, it was never discussed that she would take over funeral arrangements. Yet she did.

If it had been left to me, we wouldn’t have gotten very far. I haven’t been able to see past my own grief to do much of anything constructive. It’s a miracle I’m dressed.

Someone from the church motions for us to follow, and we’re escorted into the sanctuary and directed to sit in the row reserved for family. Right next to where my mother lies. I couldn’t bear to see her at the viewing held at the funeral home. I grappled with whether I might change my mind and need to say goodbye. Hold her hand one last time. Yet as devastated as I was to not have been there when she died, this isn’t how I want to remember her.

Looking over my shoulder, I note the church pews are nearly at capacity. But how? I recognize many of the faces. Jo gives me a grandfatherly nod from his seat. Mrs. M sends a genuinely supportive smile in my direction. And to her right, I’m startled to see Braxton. There are many more faces I recognize, even if I don’t recall their names. I guess it’s what happens in a small town. Whether they’ve known you a day or a lifetime, they show their respect.

All but my father. No sign of him.Not that I imagined he might.

The service begins, and while I try to focus on the little anecdotes about my mother someone has shared with the minister, I feel like I’m in a fog. How do I move on? It’s not like I’m such a momma’s boy I can’t manage. Yet knowing I’m about to start the rest of my life adrift, nothing tethering me to my home, is all-consuming. For all of the questions regarding my identity I had growing up, nothing felt as isolating as this.

The ceremony feels as if it is coming to a close until one more person comes to the podium. I sense I’ve been in a haze the entire time I’ve been sitting here.

Until now.

“Hi. My name is Joyce, and I had the incredible honor of spending the last few years with Carolyn Hightower. I considered her a dear friend up until the very end. What a gift it was that she needed me. Otherwise, I might’ve missed out on spending time with this amazing woman.”

Tears well within my eyes. I’d managed to keep it together. But hearing her speak of my mother this way is testing me. I guess she appreciated aspects of my mother’s life I couldn’t fathom. Leave it to Joyce to find a positive spin to Alzheimer’s.

“I spent countless hours during my time with Carolyn, looking through photo albums, playing favorite CDs she’d stored in her room, and taking walks on the beach. Some conversations were, shall we say, colorful?” A low hum of laughter reverberates through the guests. “While others were unpredictably candid. It was a wonderful surprise, not knowing which you’d receive.”

Blinking back tears, I try to stay focused on the here and now. It’s tempting to tune her out, if only to protect my heart while I’m sitting amongst a crowd. But I’m here to say goodbye to the best person I’ve ever known. So, I will myself to take courage, even though I want to cry like a little boy.

“I won’t bore you with all of the stories I’ve collected over the years. But instead, will say that Carolyn Hightower was blessed. She’d said it herself. Early on, during moments of clarity, when she was well aware her memory was leaving her, she’d saidI’ve been blessed beyond measure, Joyce. I have the best boys a mother could ask for.”

Sniffles and coughs whir around me, and I have to fight to not to break down.

“And there’s one thing I need to share with you, boys.” Joyce’s voice cracks as she looks down in our direction. “While you may not have grown in her womb, she loved you more than you’ll ever know. Shechoseyou. That’s a gift the rest of us will never experience.”

I see Ellie pulling a sobbing Matthew into her arms, just as Charlene’s hand curls around mine. Looking up toward the ceiling, I pray I’ll make it through this without curling up into a ball.

“I’ll leave you with one last thing before I go.” Her tone is more forceful, more controlled than it was moments ago. See, Harry. If she can do it, you can do it. Pull yourself together.

“I’m not sure if anyone knew this but me. And again, what a gift,” she says, lifting both hands to the sky as if giving thanks. “But this was Carolyn’s favorite song. Whenever I put it on, she smiled. We often danced like young girls as it played in the background. And the words couldn’t be a more fitting tribute to what Carolyn wanted for her boys.” Joyce looks over, blows a kiss in our direction, then carefully descends the pulpit steps to her seat as the chords of the song begin to play. It takes a moment before I recognize the tune. But once I do, I can no longer hold these tears at bay.

A mid-tempo ballad that crossed over from country to the pop charts in the early 2000’s, that encouraged the listener, or whomever it was written for, to live life to its fullest. I recall the song being played, and remember Mom enjoying it, but I had no idea just how much until Joyce pointed it out today.

Lee Ann Womack’s soft voice quietly sings of how she hopes the person listening never loses their curiosity and hunger for life. Until the chorus of “I Hope You Dance” begins to play, where she belts out that the listener should not take life for granted with gusto. That when you’re given a choice to sit it out or dance… well, dance.

There’s not a dry eye in the place. At least I’m in good company.

As the service comes to a close, we’re escorted back to the small parlor where we initially met, and I’m able to step away to the restroom for a moment to splash some water on my face. Westill have to head to the cemetery after this. There’s no way I’m going to be capable of attending any luncheon these kind ladies have organized on her behalf. How do people sit down and eat a tuna casserole after something like this?

The afternoon draws to a close, and the four of us head back to the house. It’s been a long day, and thankfully everyone retreats to their private spaces to recover. Charlene will likely be back tomorrow. Her and Ellie have been keeping Matt and I fed.

Matt is trying to avoid using too much time off, as one of his firefighter brothers has had to take a leave of absence to help out his dad who fell and broke a hip. I remember far too well what that experience was like. And at least Mom didn’t require surgery.

The medical examiner confirmed she had died of a pulmonary embolism. Not that it mattered. She was gone and there was no bringing her back. Somehow, I could feel her slipping away before she even came home from the rehab facility. I’d often wondered if she’d decided she was ready to move on from this life while she was there. Was the pain too much for her? Or was she ready to let go of the mind that had betrayed her?

If heaven has returned her memories, I guess I should do like Joyce, and focus on something positive. Mom’s at peace now, filling in crossword puzzles with whichever words she chooses.

The following morning, I drag my weary body down the hall for coffee, if nothing more than to be able to spend as much time with Matt as I can before I have to drive him back to the airport.

“There he is,” Ellie greets. She pours a fragrant hot cup of coffee into a mug and hands it to Charlene to doctor with cream.

Char holds the coffee cup out for me with a cautious smile. “Come, sit down.”

---