Page 64 of Mic Drop

Keeping my head high, I sweep away from my father without another word, not caring whether Kara does the same. Bennett grabsmy hand and holds it as we file into the limo, which takes us to the cemetery. I leave my hand in his but don’t try to talk with him. Nothing needs to be said.

When everyone from the funeral home’s assembled in front of the hole in the ground above which Ma’s casket is situated, the minister recites a scripture and invites us to say any final words.

Kara already said her piece. Her husband is busy handling their kids. My father is nowhere to be seen. Shocking.

What could I add to the ceremony? How mad I am Ma didn’t listen to her body sooner, when treatment could have been an option. I don’t think I should scream “why!” to the universe either. I want to lash out at every single person. Ask how they made Ma’s life better when she was here. Tears sting my eyes again, but I will them not to fall. The people gathered need to see me as a strong woman, and not the crybaby pushover spider portrayed in the media.

My shoulders square. I hate being the cowering girl in the corner. More accurately, I’m filled with rage about how unfair this life is if Ma’s gone and my father’s still here. Michelle and Lissa too. They all should take Ma’s place.

All the rage and anger over the past days seethes inside me, demanding to be let out. It doesn’t matter that Bennett’s next to me. Or that his band is here—he doesn’t consider them friends anyway. The only saving grace is reporters weren’t allowed to enter.

No words fit for polite company form in my brain. I want to extol Ma’s love and compassion, but it’s impossible when I’m filled with so much fury. Better to keep my mouth shut.

Out of nowhere, a single tenor voice begins to sing. No music, no accompaniment. Nothing. Only a solitary singer performingAmazing Grace.

My head swivels and I take in Bennett beside Ma’s casket, eyes closed.

I remember all the times I’ve asked him to sing me a song, and his refusal because he never singsa capella.

Yet, here he is, singing for Ma.

In his hauntingly beautiful voice. One featured in so many UC records, but never like this. Now, only singing for Ma.

And for those of us gathered here.

Something breaks inside of me. All my ugly thoughts bleed onto the ground. Tears chase each other down my cheeks, my mouth open to take in much needed air.

Tris comes over and puts his arm around me, and I put my face into his side. Like a big brother, he holds my shaking form while Bennett’s last sung words resound throughout the cemetery.

“Thanks,” my husband addresses Tris. My body is transferred from one band member to the next, and I suck in a fresh woodsy scent, which I have learned is courtesy of Dior Sauvage. My hands clutch Bennett’s shirt, hanging on to remain upright.

Nothing around me registers. Not the people or the sounds or the talking or the shuffling feet. I’m numb. It’s only Bennett and me.

“We should go, Sweetheart.”

“A minute.”

“You got it.”

I let his simple phrase sink into my bones, then pull myself free of him. All the other people are walking toward their cars. All except Kara and her family and me. Leaving my husband, I walk to my sister, and we embrace. The ten-year age difference between us evaporates for good.

“Your husband has a good voice,” she whispers, her lips quirk.

Not that I’ve ever heard it quite this way before. “He does.”

We move apart. “See you at the restaurant?” Her family approaches and they walk toward the waiting limos.

I turn to stare at Ma’s casket, remembering all her shared wisdom, praise, and support. In essence, this is what she was about. Not recriminations. Not mean-spiritedness. Not all the ugly thoughts that have been running through my mind lately. Of course, she wouldn’t let a bad person get off without reprisal, either.

Bennett and I got married to make her happy.

She was.

Now she’s gone.

A small voice inside screams that we’re in love with each other. I’ve never been happier than on our wedding day.

Grief quickly wrestles such romantic fluff to the ground.

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