“No matter what day of the week, I always am.” This is my lot in life. My voice is hardly more than a whisper as I stand inside my tight office. Taking a glance at my surroundings, I know what I need to do. “I need to work, Zebb.”
“Don’t do this, Eva.” His voice lowers. His tone a plea.
“I’ve got to go.”
“Eva—”
I hang up on him. Then I head to the closest bathroom and throw up.
12
Funerals during the biggest holiday of the year shouldn’t be a thing. Even in all my dislike of Christmas, I don’t wish this kind of sadness on anyone. Something so painful shouldn’t happen during the happiest time of year.
And my boss is the ultimate asshole, lacking compassion.
The day after Christmas, which I spent with aHarry Pottermovie-marathon and ignoring Zebb’s calls, I approach Jude when I can’t find Bethany, our HR person.
“My mother died. Her funeral is at eleven and I’ll need to take an hour off. Two tops.”
“Well, that’s inconvenient,” Jude states. He’s such a cold bastard but I’d hoped he would spare me a shred of sympathy as he lost his own mother in a plane crash years ago.
“Don’t be a dick, Mr. Ashford.” I turn at the female voice behind me. Bethany enters Jude’s office and I’m shocked by her abrupt entrance and her language towards him.
“Miss Cooper,” he groans.
“Eva, you can take the entire day off.”
I stare from Bethany to Jude and back. “No, that’s okay. I just need a few hours.”
Bethany approaches and reaches for my arm, rubbing up and down. “Hugger?”
Staring at her, I don’t understand what she’s asking. Then she answers for herself and pulls me into her arms, squeezing me. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
After a second, I shrug out of her hold, finding it weird that the Director of Human Resources is hugging me, but at the same time the gesture was welcomed comfort.
“If that is all, Miss Nazar,” Jude addresses me. He’s clenching his teeth and I bow like he’s a king. Then I scramble for the door of his office. “Please shut the door on your way out. Miss Cooper, you may have a seat.”
Yikes. I hope she doesn’t lose her job, but something tells me Bethany knows how to handle Grinchy Ashford.
+ + +
I take an Uber to the funeral home where my mother’s service will be held. I’ve already spoken to a social worker at the facility who will bring my mother’s things to me at the service. She didn’t have much. I went through her apartment six weeks ago, selling off her things after she was placed at the Benedict Home. The tedious process was like going through a stranger’s belongings.
The process is also how I know she had photos or keepsakes to remind her of me.
As I enter the funeral home, I begin to shake. My mother isn’t really here. There is no casket. A picture of her is set up on a stand. I have no idea where it was taken or who took it. She looks older than I remember her from childhood but younger than she was at sixty-five.
I stare at the image and take a seat. The room is too big to celebrate her life. I don’t think more than ten people will show during this hour. The funeral home director already told me a minister would come in toward the end of the allotted time and offer a prayer. I had the option of a separate memorial once my mother is cremated but I opted out. I simply need to collect her urn in about a week. I have no idea what I’ll do with her ashes.
As I focus on the image of my mother—a woman I didn’t really know—I question myself.
Will I die alone?
What would an epitaph say about my life?
Did I enjoy myself enough?
I can answer question one and three easily. I need to do better.For me. Changes need to happen so that any epitaph about my life reads that I experienced joy and fulfillment. Had grace and forgiveness. How I loved and accepted love in return.