Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 101205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
And there it was.
The entrance.
A fresh set of double doors, lovely and grand in a heavy shade of brown.
11.07 a.m.
I slammed my way in through the doors, expecting to find Logan in an empty room all by himself. But no. It was nothing like that.
A sea of faces turned to stare at me from either side of the aisle. A whole world of people, different ages dressed all in black.
And there he was.
Logan.
Standing right next to Jackie’s coffin and staring at me, just like everyone else.
He looked incredible, just like always. His sharp black suit was gorgeous, his dark tie matching the darkness of his eyes just so.
Here I go.
Make or break.
Tiger or mouse.
My legs were jelly, but my resolve was steel. It would have been so easy to sit my butt down on one of the pews at the back of the room like a meek little pipsqueak, but I didn’t. I just kept on walking.
The people’s stares turned with me, everyone’s attention fixed right on my jelly-legged footsteps, my chin held high as I closed the distance.
He was watching me every step of the way, still as a statue as I reached him and sat myself down on the pew at his side.
I didn’t speak and neither did he, and no matter how hard he tried to hide those shutters, he failed. This time he failed.
Shock.
Relief.
Love.
I saw it all in his eyes in one tiny flash of a moment. And I knew it. I took a breath in that seat and I knew it.
I’d done the right thing.
A woman appeared at the podium, clearing her throat for the service, and he sat himself down at my side close enough that I could feel his warmth through my crappy sweater, completely at odds with the rest of the funereal garb the rest of the crowd was wearing.
But that didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered but Jackie and Logan.
“Today, we’re here to celebrate the life of Jacqueline Ann Hall,” the woman said.
49
Logan
She was a lifeline in my pain, a beautiful radiance in a stormy world, filled with grey.
Her being there next to me was a shock that had me reeling inside, but it was shock on top of a whole slammer of shocks that morning – looking around and seeing so many faces coming together to say goodbye to my mum.
I’d forgotten over the years just how many people Mum had in her life. So many visits, and friends. So much joy and companionship and laughter. I’d turned my back on the whole load of it a long time ago, shutting her up in a guise of security, her in her final days with me, without the stress and interruptions of visitors.
Yet again, I had been wrong. So fucking wrong.
I sat down next to my jitterbug, and I couldn’t stop myself, no matter how hard the steel inside wanted to hold firm. I took her hand in mine and squeezed her fingers, thanking her without words. She squeezed me right back, and it took everything I had not to wrap my arms around her and hold her tight, letting her know I was sorry for not inviting her there. Sorry for not letting her in.
The service started up, everyone listening to the funeral celebrant recounting the story of her life. The whole room was attentive, but the shiver of tears were audible, even over the speech. I kept my pain silent, tears flowing but muted. Every emotion inside battling to stay out of view.
Jacqueline Hall was an amazing woman, full of soul and life.
Jacqueline loved elephants, and mountains, and sandcastles on the beach… but mostly she loved laughter. Laughter and the people laughing with her.
Chloe was looking at the coffin, crying tears of her own.
I realised just then how much of an asshole I’d been for excluding her from something so important to her loss.
I squeezed her hand again before I let her go to step up to the podium. I cleared my throat before I began talking, feeling a fool for expecting so few people that I hadn’t prepared a speech.
As it turns out, I didn’t need one. The words just flowed.
Mum was an amazing woman. So much wisdom in that always laughing head of hers. I learnt so much from her over the years, more than I will ever be able to say…
Everyone listened. Everyone cried.
I told them some of my favourite memories, about Mum and I swimming in the sea. About Mum cheering as I first rode my bike down our street, and how she whooped and leapt in the air when I graduated.
I told them how incredible it is to have a mother like her on your side. How she held me tight when I was scared, and promised me it would all be ok. How she told me jokes in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep, and how she read me kid’s stories in amazing funny voices.