TO MELODY—
The truest friend I’ve ever known
Chapter 1
Amy Shannon snipped a loose thread from the hem of her funeral dress. Yes, she had a funeral dress, and she wore it so often that it was now falling into disrepair.
Her friend Hazel’s father had died first. A few months later, her own mother succumbed to her battle with neurocancer and moved on to what Amy prayed would prove a better place. Today’s funeral was for their friend Bridget’s mother.
The three friends first found one another in the hospital cafeteria a little more than one year ago. They were each seeing an ailing parent through chemotherapy, which made them frequent installations at the hospital and soon in one another’s lives.
Now it was loss that bound them.
Together with their fourth friend, Nichole, who’d been fortunate enough for her father’s cancer to slip into remission, they’d formed an impromptu support group. Every Sunday they each cooked a dish and met up for a hot meal and a bit of friend-to-friend therapy.
Amy was always the one who brought dessert, because she was seen as being the sweet, motherly one. But, to be honest, she wasn’t sure how well that reputation fit her anymore. Some days she wanted to scream, punch a pillow, or even take to the shooting range and unload dozens of bullets into that annoying silhouette target guy. But she never did any of those things. Instead, she brought cookies and cupcakes and hugs, a listening ear, a friendly shoulder, and an eternal sense of optimism.
Lately she’d had to fake it, though.
All the deaths, the constant tears . . . it was just too much.
For months, she’d needed to pretend it didn’t destroy her when the tumor pressing down on her mother’s brain caused the woman to forget everything that had once mattered to her. Sometimes the tumor took such intense control that it caused Amy’s once meek and kindly mother to fly into an unprovoked rage.
She’d stuck to her mother in the final days every bit as closely as that tumor, hoping that her good energy could somehow outweigh its bad. In the end, however, the cancer won, but not before leaving an indelible mark on Amy herself.
It wasn’t just the lingering bruises from her mother’s attacks. More, it was the beating she’d taken to her heart. Even now she found herself angry, jealous of her closest friends. They’d each gotten to keep the parent they knew and loved until the very last hour.
Not Amy.
She’d lost her mother months before death finally claimed her. Why couldn’t the cancer have attached itself to her breast or lungs instead? Why did it have to be her brain, the very thing that gave her mother that beautiful personality of hers?
Whenever Amy felt these thoughts creeping along the dark edges of her mind, she turned the radio up loud and sang through the tears until numbness overtook her. Sometimes she felt like the worst kind of person, envying her closest friends, when they, too, had experienced traumatic loss.
Because at the end of the day, there were no winners when it came to cancer. Even remission couldn’t be seen as a victory. That’s what had happened to Bridget’s mother, the woman whose life they were gathering to celebrate today.
She “beat” breast cancer for years, but that was merely round one. When the disease came back swinging, it landed the ultimate knockout blow.
Poor Bridget. She was still so young.
They all were. Each of them would be missing a parent when it finally came time to walk down the aisle, when they had kids of their own, when they made any big change or achieved a special accomplishment.
Amy was twenty-nine now, but Bridget had only just turned twenty-three. She’d become the kid sister of their friend group, so naturally they all wanted to take care of her, now that her mother had passed on, too.
The last thing Bridget needed was Amy envying her today.
At least this should be the last funeral of the season. They were done now. Losing the last of the parents gave them the clearance to move forward with life. They could finally exit that tortuous cycle of caregiving, loss, and grief. Just one more funeral, that’s all that was left before they could start to live again.
Amy sighed and checked over her appearance one final time before heading for the door. With any luck, the funeral dress could be put in storage after this—or maybe even ceremoniously burned. That would be a cathartic activity for their next Sunday get-together, dousing the wretched garments in lighter fluid, then watching as the black fabric turned to ash and floated away on the night breeze.
Picturing it now comforted her in a way little else had.
Why couldn’t they have belonged to one of those cultures that burned their dead on a massive pyre? It felt so much more final—so much more freeing—than simply slipping the lifeless body into the ground, where the earth could eventually reclaim it.
Even though she still hadn’t come to terms with it all, Amy knew the socially acceptable length of time for mourning was nearing its end. In just a couple days, she’d return to her position as a second-grade teacher at one of Anchorage’s top elementary schools. She couldn’t be teaching the children stories and simple math equations when she was fixating on the way the undertaker’s makeup job had turned her mother into a caricature of herself.
No, Amy’s job was to be the peacemaker, the cheerleader, the smiling face that everyone loved seeing in the mornings. She was terrified that loss had changed her, though. Not just the loss itself, but the manner in which it was sustained.
Who are we really, if at any moment our minds could leave us?
That was a difficult question for her as a teacher, especially. After all, it was her job to shape young minds and prepare the next generation. But all the preparation in the world couldn’t save them from life’s awful eventualities. There was no way to plan for a broken heart, a lost family member, or any number of terrible tragedies that plagued humankind.
But could she say that aloud?
No! Lately Amy had to keep everything stuffed deep down, lest it escape and wreak havoc on the remaining pieces of her life. There was no place deep enough, however, that she could hide from herself.
If only.
Returning her thoughts to the present day’s agenda, she pulled up outside Bridget’s family church, a squat brick building that looked more like a school than a place of worship. It didn’t take long to find her friends. They all waited outside the main door, ready for a fresh round of hugs once Amy joined them.
She expected to find Bridget in tears, but instead her youngest friend wore a bright smile and a tropical, floral-patterned dress. “Thank you for coming today. We have a really beautiful celebration of Mom’s life planned.”
Amy nodded and searched through her purse for a tissue. Well, if Bridget wasn’t going to cry today, Amy could cry enough for the both of them. She’d met Bridget’s mom a handful of times and always enjoyed their visits, but mostly she mourned for herself today, for her own mother.
Still.
Wasn’t the pain supposed to be gone by now?
Or would it be with her forever, like Peter Pan’s shadow? An evil, sentient creature that became a life force all its own. She shuddered at the thought and wiped fresh tears from her eyes.
“Hey, hey,” Bridget said, rubbing her hands over Amy’s shoulders and forcing her to look up. Her chubby cheeks bounced as she shook her head from side to side. “No crying. Mom wouldn’t have wanted that.”