Page 25 of That Boy (That Boy 1)
They loved to celebrate.
So I wanted to do something that would celebrate my parents' lives.
Phillip, Danny, and I would be outside shooting hoops or playing a game of horse, and Dad would come out and be like, It's gorgeous out, a day like today is worth celebrating.
I always thought "celebrate" was sorta code word for, if I say I'm celebrating something, my wife won't complain to me about sitting here smoking a stinky cigar. But that wasn't it. Because before you knew it, Mom would be out there sitting on his lap, drinking a wine cooler, and celebrating with him. Then pretty soon half the neighbors would show up, and they would all be drinking and eating and really celebrating the fact that they were together, that it was a beautiful day. I think they definitely appreciated daily life and not just special occasions, hell, they made every day occasions special.
So even though it was painful, Katie, Lisa, and I went through all our photos and selected a few that showed my parents doing just that.
Celebrating their lives.
Phillip scanned them all into the computer and created a slide show of them set to music.
Notes play and pictures flash by:
Mom as a baby.
Mom with no front teeth, in pigtails on her bike.
Mom with her high school friends, in their graduation caps and gowns.
Dad as a chubby, bald baby.
Dad dressed as a cowboy, with Uncle John dressed as an Indian.
Dad playing basketball in high school.
Then the two of them together in college, looking goofily in love.
Dad and Mr. Mac in college, togas on and cigars in their mouths.
A big group of dad's frat brothers, all holding red cups and making silly faces and gestures.
Mom and Dad at a fraternity formal, Mom with bright blue eyeliner and big hair.
Mom with her best friends on spring break at the beach.
Mom catching the bouquet at the Mac's wedding, Dad pretending to be scared.
Their college graduations.
Mom, with an amazingly happy look on her face, holding out her engagement ring while her friends were gathered around looking at it.
Mom and Dad dancing and kissing at their wedding.
Dad carrying Mom over the threshold of our new house.
A group of their friends in a hot tub on a skiing trip.
Daddy holding me at the hospital the day I was born.
Mom and Julie holding Phillip and me as babies.
Mom holding my hands in the air, teaching me how to walk.
Daddy holding my hands in the air, teaching me the signal for TOUCHDOWN, when I was two, with a Nebraska game on the TV in the background and everyone around him dressed in red.
Daddy teaching me to ride a bike.
Christmas morning, wrapping paper everywhere.
My parents at Disney World, watching the parade, with me asleep over Daddy's shoulder.
Dad, Phillip, Danny, and me playing soccer in the back yard.
Daddy blowing out the candles on a very pathetic looking cake I had frosted.
Mom and me at my eighth grade graduation.
Our families all standing in front of a fountain in Kansas City, with the Plaza lights aglow around us.
A Thanksgiving Day flag football game, with all our families.
All our neighbors together for the annual block party.
My family, with the Diamonds and the Macs this past 4th of July.
I glance at Phillip, who's sitting next to me. When I was going through all the pictures, I realized how much Phillip and I have been together. He was in practically every picture with me, even if he was lurking in the background somewhere.
The screen flashes.
Dad, by the grill, holding a plate of very badly burnt hamburgers with Danny's dad and Danny laughing.
The slide show is incredible. Phillip didn't want me to watch it before the funeral, and now I see why. It's like he got me the perfect gift and didn't want me to open it early.
What would I ever do without that boy?
I reach over and put my hand on top of his.
He glances at me, and I mouth thank you to him. He smiles at me, as he wipes tears from his eyes.
At the visitations, all the ladies were telling me what a lucky girl I was to have such a devoted and supportive boyfriend. At first, I told them that Phillip was not my boyfriend, just one of my best friends, but most of the ladies I said that to sorta rolled their eyes at me.
Like Phillip was really my boyfriend, and I was trying to keep it a secret.
When Mrs. Mac told someone that Phillip and I were just very close friends, the lady sneered and practically insinuated that close meant, uh close, as in based on the way he is always touching me, we must be sleeping together.
Which, well, we are, kinda. Since I can't go to sleep without his shoulder next to me. But you know, not in the way that lady assumed.
So finally both of us gave up.
It was easier to just agree, than try to explain.
So when people asked him how his girlfriend was doing, he said, she's hanging in there. And when people said I had an amazing boyfriend, I smiled and agreed.
And of course, Phillip had to give me some shit about that.
So last night, when it was just us, he was referring to himself as my amazing boyfriend, my support system, my devoted lover, my, uh, close friend.
He really does make me laugh. And being able to laugh occasionally, in a situation like this, has helped release some of my pent up stress.
At least I haven't blown yet.
The video ends, and the pastor requests that everyone join us at the place of rest.
And seriously, this is the part I have been dreading.
This is the part that freaks me out.
The place of rest.
As in the Cemetery.
Where they will be BURIED.
And I will never see them again.
Okay, yes, I know they are dead. I know they aren't coming back.
I know they are never going to talk to me again.
But for some strange reason, and I know
this sounds kind of sick, but having their bodies still here, like at the funeral home and here at the church, it's like they are still a little bit here.
It kills me to look at Mom and Dad laying there in their caskets, not smiling at me, not teasing me, or telling me they love me.
But at the same time, they are still here.
Well, sorta.
I mean, I definitely believe in God and Heaven and all that. And I believe that their souls have gone to heaven, and that someday, when I die, we will be reunited.
But that doesn't mean I am ready to let their bodies go into the ground.
It feels so harsh.
It feels like the wrong thing to do.
Because it feels like that is all I have left of them.
And I'm hanging on by whatever threads are left.
As Phillip walks me to the limo, I tell him, "Phillip, I don't know if I can do this part."
And of course, Phillip and I can't carry on a conversation because people are wonderful. They keep coming up to me, and hugging me, and holding my hands, and telling me what wonderful people my parents were, how sorry they are for me, how my parents are watching in heaven, all that stuff people say at funerals to try and make you feel better.
And it does, I know they are being sincere, but still, I have a horrible feeling of dread inside me.
Because this is it.
After we bury them, I am going to be all alone.
Phillip pulls me aside, next to the limo. "Princess, you can do this. You've got this. You stood up there and gave that little speech without crying. This will be easy compared to that."
I whisper, "But Phillip, this is not the easy part because when they bury them, I am going to be alone. All alone."
And really, that is the part of all this that scares me the most.
Phillip tenderly cups my shoulder with his hand and pulls me into a hug, then he smiles at me, touches the tip of my nose with his finger, and says, "Don't think you can get rid of me that easily. As long as I'm around, you'll never be alone. I do have my reputation to uphold as your, uh, very, close friend, you know. Heck, I'm going to be around so much, you'll probably be begging me to leave." He gives me a sly little grin.
I give Phillip a little smile, but I don't get to reply because Aunt Sara and Uncle John barrel between us and hop in the limo.
Phillip rolls his eyes at them, then says, "I guess it's time to go."
I follow them into the limo and it takes all my strength not to pull Phillip in with me.
To protect me.
I have to sit with just them, as in just Aunt Sara and Uncle John for the next part of the service.
