The Temporary Wife: Chapter 57

I stare at the closed casket in front of me, my eyes filling with tears all over again. I got one final look at her, and it kills me to know I’ll never see her again. Abuela looked so beautiful, lying there in her favorite dress. I’ve been trying to come to terms with the news, but it didn’t seem real until we arrived at the cemetery, the place filled with those that loved her.

Luca’s arm wraps around my waist, and I lean into him for support. He hasn’t left my side since we got the call. It all seems like a blur to me, but I remember fragments of him putting me in the shower, and asking both my mother and me to eat something. He’s taken care of us to the best of his abilities, and if not for him, I’m not sure I’d have it in me to stand here today.

“Val.”

I look up to find Grandma Anne, Sierra, Raven, Ares, Dion, Zane, and Lexington standing in front of me, their gazes filled with grief.

“What are you all doing here?” I murmur. I figured a few of them would drop by, but I didn’t think Dion would fly in for my abuela’s funeral.

Zane gently brushes my hair out of my face and sighs. “We’re your family,” he tells me. Sierra wraps an arm around me, and Raven presses a sweet kiss to my forehead. That’s all it takes for me to finally burst into tears, a sob tearing through my throat.

I’ve been trying my hardest not to cry, because today should be about celebrating her life, not mourning her death. Yet all I can think about is the gaping hole she’s left behind. My chest is burning, and I can’t control my thoughts. My knees give in, and I nearly drop to the floor, but Luca and Sierra hold me up.

Luca pulls me into him and wraps me in his embrace as I try my hardest to choke back my sobs, unable to keep my tears from spilling. My own tears trigger my mother’s, and Luca wraps an arm around her too, holding both of us tightly as we fall apart.

“H-how could she leave m-me behind?” I ask, unable to come to terms with the loss of the woman I loved most. Abuela passed peacefully during a nap she never woke up from, but it feels so unfair. I did everything in my power to give her the best medical care money can buy, and it still wasn’t enough.

“It was her time,” my mother tells me. “She… she’s with your abuelo now, sweetheart.”

Without my abuela, I’m lost. She was my rock, my only constant in life, and the only one who loved me unconditionally. Guilt fuels my thoughts, reminding me of each time I neglected her in favor of work, each instance a sin I will never be able to atone for.

I’m consumed by questions I don’t have an answer to. Why did I work so hard? What for? Why didn’t I spend more time with her? She once asked me what I’d have once I got to her age, what memories I’d have made. I realize now that she was asking me to live my life to the fullest, and I failed her. Luca holds me tightly, until my tears dry up. My heart has never felt this broken before. I’ve lost so much throughout the years, but nothing ever broke me like this did.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Luca tells me when the priest motions for me to step forward. As Abuela’s only granddaughter, I’m meant to share uplifting stories of her, as a way to honor her memory and soothe the pain of those that have gathered to celebrate her life. It’s the hardest thing I’ll ever do, but I won’t fail her. This is the last thing I get to do for her, after all.

Luca squeezes my hand before letting go, his eyes never leaving me as I take my place in front of the microphone. I have no idea what I’d do without him. He’s taken care of every single detail, right down to speaking to the insurance people and coordinating with the funeral home. He lent me his strength, and I’m not sure how to repay him.

“Thank you so much for gathering here today to celebrate the extraordinary life my grandmother has lived,” I tell the crowd. I see so many familiar faces, all of them with tears in their eyes. Abuela was my world, but it’s clear she impacted so many other lives, too. It’s like our entire neighborhood has gathered here. Almost every store near us is closed, because everyone is here.

“My abuela,” I murmur, my voice breaking. “She was everything to me. She was my role model, my biggest cheerleader, my best friend. The mere idea of navigating life without her guidance terrifies me, but I know that the lessons she instilled in me will carry me through.”

Luca looks at me with such pride, as though he knows how hard it is for me to stand here, and a little bit of the weight on my shoulders is lifted. “When I think of my abuela, I think of laughter, life lessons, warm hugs, and endless mischief. One of my favorite memories of her is actually a very recent one. Some of you may know that I got married a few months ago, and I wasn’t sure how to tell her. It was a relatively impulsive decision, and I was scared she’d be mad at me, or that she wouldn’t accept me eloping and depriving her of attending my wedding. I was trembling when I took my husband home, but the moment she found out we got married, she just laughed and told me it was about time. She taunted me and teased me, reminding me of all the times I’d secretly badmouthed my husband in the years before we fell in love. I didn’t realize it at the time, but she did what she could to make the situation as easy for me as possible, all the while giving me her unconditional support and acceptance, like she always has. That’s what she did, you know? She made you feel welcome and loved, no matter who you were. She treated everyone with that very same warmth.”

I take a steadying breath as those around me smile, and for a moment, it feels like she’s here with me, happy to hear me honoring happy memories instead of crying over her.

“Abuela and my husband thought I was unaware, but I know she called him all the time, checking up on me and telling him stories of my childhood. There were times he’d come home with specific snacks or small presents, and I’d know that he’d spoken to my abuela recently, because she was the only one who knew me that well. I didn’t realize it then, but she must have been passing down her role to him. She must have wanted to ensure I’d never miss out on the things I loved most, because she knew I’d never speak up about the little things that make me happy. That’s who she was. Most of you present here have experienced her kindness, her unique way of making you feel so special. She’d enter a room, and you’d smile, because you could never be sure what she’d say. She was unpredictable, funny, and so incredibly sweet. I wouldn’t be who I am without her, and I know the same is true for so many of you here too. She’s fed so many of us, and she was always there with a kind smile and even kinder words. I will always remember her that way, and I hope you do too.”