Page 42 of Whisk Me Away

I took a second to breathe, refusing to make eye contact with anyone in the building. If I saw others crying, I would never make it through this.

"But beyond her talents in the kitchen, my mother was the light and life of our home. Her laughter was infectious, her kindness boundless, and her presence filled every room with warmth. Whether she was offering a listening ear, a comforting embrace, or words of wisdom, she had a way of making everyone feel loved and cherished. As we say goodbye to one of the greatest women, I take comfort in knowing she is no longer in pain. She is probably in Heaven singing and dancing with Jesus. One thing I know for sure is she has left behind a legacy of love and faith that will continue to guide us in the days ahead. Though she may no longer be with us in body, her spirit will live on in the memories we hold dear and the love we carry in our hearts. May we find comfort in the knowledge that she has found peace in the arms of our Heavenly Father. Thank you."

I clutched the loose papers to my chest and returned to my seat. Once I was within reach, Eden extended her hand. I grasped it and held it in my lap as Pastor Albert continued.

The rest of the service passed in a blur. My mind wandered from memory to memory, trying to shove down the bone-deep sadness that was threatening to overtake me. I needed to make it through the rest of the funeral, and then I could fall apart. When I was alone in the safety of my room, I could let it all out. I had been trying to hold it together for the sake of Dad and Eden, but I didn't think I could last much longer.

As soon as the service ended, I stood at the front of the church next to Eden and Dad as people made their rounds, offering their condolences. The last place I wanted to be was shaking people's hands and seeing their looks of pity, but the people of Ashwood Falls had the right to grieve just as much as I did.

After what felt like hours, the last person walked out the church's front door, and Dad turned to me and Eden. He looked more broken than I'd ever seen him. I couldn't help but pray he'd get through this without completely losing himself.

Dad pulled us both into an embrace and kissed the top of our heads. We stayed like this for a few minutes before he pulled back, giving us a sad smile.

"Why don't you two head home? I'm just going to take some time here and I’ll be there soon."

My initial instinct was to tell him no, that we'd stay together, but the pleading look he gave us had me agreeing. I didn't want to leave Dad, but I knew that he probably needed time to grieve in his own way without having to worry about his daughters.

“Okay," I gave him a nod before grabbing Eden by the arm. She shot me a worried look, but I shook my head and tugged her toward the door.

Just before we reached the front doors, Dad's voice rang out through the empty church. "I love you, girls."

The dejection in his voice stopped me in my tracks. Eden and I slowly spun around to face him. "We love you, Daddy,” I said before Eden said, "More than anything."

The drive back to the farmhouse was quiet. Both of us were caught up in our own thoughts. The one truth I chose to cling to was from the Bible verse that promised God was close to the brokenhearted. It was only by His grace that our family would make it through.

CHAPTER 29

KARIS

March in Ashwood Falls, Tennessee, was a mix of winter and spring, kind of like it couldn’t make up its mind. Some days, you woke up to chilly air that made you want to stay under the blankets all day. Then, the sun came out of nowhere, and it felt like spring was knocking on the door.

Spring's trying to push through, though. I could see it in the flowers poking their heads up from the ground. The birds were chirping like crazy, singing their hearts out like they knew warmer days were on the horizon.

It was like a transition period, where you wanted to say goodbye to winter but you weren’t quite ready to fully embrace spring yet. You took each day as it came, never knowing if you'd need a coat or sunscreen. But that was just life here, unpredictable and full of surprises.

It honestly felt a lot like my emotions right now, caught between the cold grip of grief and the faint warmth of hope. Losing Mom was like winter settling in my heart, leaving it barren and cold. Some days, I woke up feeling like I couldn’t face the world. I just wanted to hide away and never come out. But then, just like the weather, there were moments of brightness. Tiny glimmers of joy peeking through the clouds of sadness.

I know there was a season for mourning, and I was trying to let myself feel it all. But most days, I was stuck in this in-between place, where I wasn’t ready to let go of the pain but also eager for the healing to begin. Just like how March couldn’t decide between winter and spring, I couldn’t decide between holding onto the memories of Mom and moving forward without her.

"Karis!" Mia called from somewhere deep in Hansons bookstore.

Mia convinced me to come to the store, help her reorganize the shelves, put up a few new displays, and change her window display from the Valentine's theme to one for spring. For the last two weeks, I'd been holed up at my parent’s house, refusing to go out or talk to anyone, Mia included. One-word responses were about all anyone got from me.

Apparently, Mia was giving me time to cope and process on my own, but after two weeks, she was done allowing me to sit in my grief alone. When she called me last night, I reluctantly agreed to meet her at Hansons. I really only agreed with the intention of blowing her off this morning. Except when Mia showed up at the front door of the farmhouse, I knew there was no escaping her. It was best to give in and allow Mia to drag me out of my funk.

"Yeah," I called, following the sound of her grunts.

"I drug you down here to actually help me not sit over there lost in your thoughts." Mia huffed.

When I rounded the last tall bookshelf, Mia came into view. She was standing in front of one of the short bookshelves, holding a tower of books almost as tall as she was. I rushed over, attempting to grab a few to lighten her load, when the toe of my shoe caught on the carpet, sending me flying. I bumped into Mia, and we both went down along with the stack of books.

“Oops," the laugh that bubbled up felt so foreign. It reminded me how long it’s been since I've genuinely laughed, and it felt good. I tried to shove down the slight prickle of guilt that came from my laugh. I knew that Mom would want me to move forward and be happy. "Sorry!"

For half a second, I worried Mia was really mad when she didn’t respond. It wasn’t until I heard her gasp for air that I realized she was laughing. Whenever Mia laughed really hard, it always came out silent. The only thing you could hear was the wheezing breaths she tried to pull in. It was also contagious. There weren’t many times in my life that I could remember Mia laughing this hard and me not following suit.

Giving in, I ended up on the floor with Mia in a pile of books, laughing hysterically. I didn’t think tripping and knocking her down was necessarily that funny, but that's what you get when you put Mia and me together. Throw in a little sleep deprivation and the fact that I hadn't laughed in a while, and this totally made sense.

When our laughter subsided, I glanced at Mia. "Sorry about knocking you over,” I shook my head before shrugging my shoulders.