The church is packed as are the roads outside. Thousands upon thousands of mourners line the streets of L.A., coming out to pay their respects to Reeve.
The outpouring of love for my husband has been incredible. Fan posts occupy most every social media platform, and Margaret Andre and the woman who runs Reeve’s fan club have had to hire additional temporary staff to cope with the influx of cards and gifts. A lot of it is for me. Some is for Easton too. Mom is handling all of that, sorting through it and boxing it up in case I want to look at it sometime in the future.
The minister says nice things about Reeve, but neither of us were practicing Catholics, so he’s talking through his ass. It’s only when Mom gets up to speak that we’re hearing about the real Reeve from someone who knew him.
“Thank you all for coming,” Mom says, her voice projecting to the back of the church.
She looks beautiful with her hair pulled off her face in an elegant chignon. She’s wearing a black hat with a short black lace veil. I hold a confused Easton tighter, ignoring the sharp pain in my ribs from the motion. “I know my daughter would be up here, saying these words, if she could, but it’s been an extremely difficult time for her. For Easton and for all of us.” Mom’s eyes fill up, and I wonder if she’ll be able to do this. My dad gets out of his seat, walking to stand beside her. She leans against him, drawing strength from his presence.
“Reeve is beloved by many people the world over. People who have loved his movies and followed his career from those early days. But those of us who are here today knew the man, not just the actor. Jon and I were privileged to watch Reeve grow up. He was an integral part of our lives from the moment he was born. In all the ways that matter, he was our son, and we will miss him dearly.” Her sobs echo through the microphone, bouncing off the walls of the eerily quiet church. A few cries and sobs surround me, but still, I don’t cry. I press kisses into Easton’s hair, clinging to him for dear life.
“Reeve loved Vivien from the time he was a little boy,” Mom continues in a wobbly voice. “Jon and I would watch them playing together, and we always knew they were destined to be together. Reeve worshiped Vivien with an intensity that is rare for someone so young. No matter what he chose to pursue, whether it was acting or our daughter, Reeve did it to the fullest of his ability because he had the biggest heart and so much love to give. Watching him grow from a young boy into a man and later into a father was one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. Reeve adored our grandson, and he was the most amazing father to Easton.”
“Mommy.” Easton tugs on my sleeve. “Why is Grandma talking about me?”
I lower my head. “She’s telling everyone how much Daddy loved you.”
“He was so happy to welcome the new baby, singing every night to Lainey and making plans as only an excited father could do,” Mom continues.
“Mommy.” Easton pulls my head down to his face. “Is Daddy in there?” he asks, pointing at the coffin.
“He is. And Lainey is there with him so they can be together.” I kiss his cheek as I see realization dawn on his handsome face.
“Reeve’s last selfless act on this Earth said everything about who he was as a man, a husband, and a father. He didn’t hesitate to protect Vivien and their unborn child, sacrificing his life so our daughter could live. We can never thank him for that.” Her cries ring out around the church, and a chorus of tears surround us. “Or for all the joy he brought to our lives. His legacy will live on through Easton,” she adds, and a lump forms in my throat.
I should’ve told my parents before the funeral there is no piece of Reeve left living on this planet. That hurts so much because my husband wanted tons of kids and the kind of family he was deprived of as a child. That he should die without that destroys me. All that remains are my memories and our cherished mementos and his legacy on the screen. He didn’t leave any flesh and blood behind except for a twin brother who hated him and never wanted him in his life.
I hate that for Reeve and for myself. If God had to be cruel to take my husband, couldn’t he have given me his daughter so I could love her for the both of us?
“I want my daddy!” Easton screams, breaking me out of my inner monologue. I watch in horror, like I’m floating overhead, as he wrestles out of my arms and races toward the coffin. He places his hands on the side of the coffin as heartbreaking cries trickle through the congregation. “Wake up, Daddy! Please!” he sobs, and I know I should go to him, but I’m frozen in place.
Running footsteps echo along the tile floor behind me. Alex stands, striding toward Easton and gently pulling him into his arms. Easton wraps his arms and legs around his Uncle Alex, crying into his shoulder. “I’ve got this,” Alex says, in a clipped tone, looking over Easton’s shoulder.
I glance around, spotting Dillon standing just behind me, staring at Alex with Easton. Pain ravages his face as he looks at his son, and I’m guessing he wishes he was the one comforting him. But Dillon is a stranger to Easton. They only met one time, and he is not who Easton needs right now.
I rise, walking to Dillon’s side. “Please don’t make a scene. Not here,” I whisper in his ear.
“That’s not—” Dillon drags a hand through his hair. “I just want to help.”
“Then leave.” I eyeball him, even though it almost kills me. Seeing Reeve’s eyes on Dillon’s face upsets me even more now. “If you want to help, that’s the best way.”
Tormented eyes peer deep into mine as rumblings from the crowd remind me that we have an audience. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” he says in a choked voice. “More than you could ever know.”