Darcy and her father return back to their old stomping grounds of New York City. With her, Darcy brings habits of being reclusive. She is perfectly content spending most of her time within the walls of her father's café and sees nothing wrong with t...
So many people came. People of all ages, most from all across the country and even outside of it, had gathered here today to celebrate and say goodbye to Miss Sylvi.
It was a wondrous thing to think of how she must have affected each person's life enough for them to be here today. In the midst of the grief and the sadness, I still felt that sense of solidarity, love, and friendship. This concoction of feelings felt surreal and complicated.
The day was far from over, though. On the contrary, it was nearing just twelve in the afternoon.
I took the piece of paper from Chris and unfolded it, scanning its contents over again for the address. When the service came to a close, Josie, Miss Sylvia's daughter, announced to the crowd that she'd rented a place where we could all gather and continue the celebration of her mom's life. It was the next stop for the day, and we planned to stay until the end to help Josie and her family clean up after everyone left.
"Hey." We turned to find Reece turning the corner towards us. His mouth was set in a deep frown, and there was a slight hunch to his posture. When he reached us, he put a hand atop both our heads and ruffled it slightly. "Good job, you two. Hardest part's over."
I nodded, but glanced behind him. "Where's Jessica?"
"She's..." He released a breath. "She's saying her goodbyes."
Wordlessly, we followed Reece back to the room where the service took place.
Floor to ceiling windows bordered the room, illuminating the space with a brilliant light. The room was almost void of people now besides staff making quick work to gather all the grand bouquets of flowers so that Josie and her family could take them home. On the walls hung numerous pictures of Miss Sylvia throughout her lifetime – all treasured memories, accomplishments, and more. At the front, in front of the open casket, kneeled two figures.
Josie was a tall, curvy woman. She wore her auburn hair in a neat bun at the base of her neck. Freckles dotted all along her arm. Although Josie was nearly 30 years older than Jessica, they held each other's hands like they'd been sisters all their lives. Both raised by the same woman. Both heartbroken at their loss.
As soft cries began to echo through the room, Reece placed a hand on mine and Chris's shoulders and said, "Let's go, guys. We'll wait for her in the car."
My heart clenched as my eyes slid from their crying forms to the enlarged picture of Miss Sylvia beside the casket. It was a beautiful picture of her. She sat on the edge of a stone ledge in yellow and orange flower bushes growing upwards against a wall. A straw hat with a white ribbon sat atop her head, complementing the marigold sweater she wore.
I stared at the picture for a long time, determined to embed this picture of Miss Sylvia into my memory instead of the form I saw within the open casket. Eyes to the ceiling, I let other images of her flash through my mind. Miss Sylvia baking cookies in the kitchen. Miss Sylvia tending to the wounds of girls who fell playing outside in the Black Garden. Miss Sylvia poking her head through the door to say goodnight. Miss Sylvia with Papa in her cramped office as they signed paperwork for my adoption.
Goodbye, Miss Sylvia. Thank you for everything.
And with those final thoughts, I turned my back for the final time and followed the boys out to the car.
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