The Secrets She Kept

The Secrets She Kept - Chapter 20

I was holding on by only the smallest, most frayed, thread.

With my back straight, my eyes trained on the front of the room, I couldn't even listen to what they celebrant was saying. His eulogy to Mum, the woman he didn't even know, rushed over me. The words could have been the shopping list for all I cared. Nothing he said could sum up the woman she was - the woman she had been.

All I could focus on was the simple coffin at the front, my mother's smile grinning back at me from a strategically placed photo frame on top of the box.

She looks so different.

My mum was happy in the picture. Smiling in a way she hadn't since her diagnosis. I missed that smile. I missed that version of her.

I swallowed and glanced away.

Though it had been offered, I hadn't wanted to see her before they closed the casket. I hadn't even paused to consider it. If I saw her in that box, it would be real. She would truly be -.

Unable to stop myself, my eyes were drawn back to the coffin.

Even now, staring at the simple box with the soothing tone of celebrant's voice washing over me, it didn't feel real. I knew she was gone - logically.

And yet, inside, a part of me still expected her to call. A part of me expected her to waltz in and say it was all one big joke.

It wasn't.

She was gone and she wasn't coming back.

Yet, even as that realisation set in, I didn't break down. I would not break down. Not here. Not in front of them all.

I was an island in the midst of all of these attendants. My small pew was empty. It was out of choice.

Diane sat on the other side with her husband and children. They huddled together in a supportive unit. I wasn't jealous. Much. She had taken one look at my face and, correctly, taken a seat on the opposite side of the room.

Even Dad sat several rows back with Gloria.

They all had someone at their side. I didn't.

Yet, I wasn't completely alone.

Richie's familiar aftershave surrounded me. He and my co-workers had all taken seats behind me. Their support was silent and their expressions solemn. I still can't believe they came.

They had all slid into the second row with only a pat on the shoulder and a nod of the head. None had verbally offered their condolences.

It's like they knew.

They knew that if I heard it from one of them, it would probably put a chink in the armour surrounding my emotions and I wasn't ready to let those out of the box just yet. I wouldn't let them out. I couldn't let them out. Not yet.

Once I did, I wasn't sure I would be able to reign them back in. It was only duty that had pulled me up off of the floor and into the shower that morning. If I was doing it only for myself, I would probably still be lying on the floor of the kitchen, staring aimlessly at the chips on the bottom of the cabinets.

The curtains pulled closed around the coffin as the celebrant spoke the committal verse. My fingers clenched around the order of service. It was that or beg him to stop. Beg him to bring her back.

And then, just as suddenly, Mum's favourite song started playing overhead and the celebrant as stepping down.

I blinked and stared around dazedly. Somehow, I had missed it all. My throat was tight as one of the attendants came to the end of my aisle. His face was kind. Compassionate. I swallowed and tilted up my chin. Then, at his urging, I edged out of the aisle and out through the side door.