Page 119 of Sunday Morning
Her everything.
Matt loved the version of her he made up in his head.
“Yes,” I whispered.
His face scrunched while he choked on his emotions. “Go,” he croaked.
“There’s more?—”
“I DON’T WANT TO KNOW!” He stabbed his fingers into his hair, panting out of control.
I stepped toward the door. “Get ready for the funeral. After today, you won't have to see me again. But for the next few hours, we’ll pull our shit together and pay our respects.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
MARVIN HAMLISCH, “I’LL NEVER LEAVE YOU”
Sarah
I couldeither love God or pretend that He had a plan for all of us, but I couldn’t do both because His plans didn’t feel like love.
While everyone filled the church for Joanna’s funeral, I sat in the old cemetery, resting against a headstone.
Walter Arnold
Beloved husband and father
1902-1974
“You should be inside,”Heather said, taking a seat next to me. She wore the same stone-washed denim shorts and blue Gap pocket tee she had on the day she dropped me off at the church to go to Nashville with Isaac.
“Yeah, well, you should be alive,” I said after a tiny grunt.
She picked a dandelion and plucked each little yellow petal.“Tell me about Nashville.”
I smiled. “Isaac let me sing on stage, and I didn’t want to leave. There’s something really special about singing to a crowd of people. Music is so much more than notes and lyrics. It’s an emotion, like when something moves you so deeply or gets you so excited that you can’t just speak the words; you have to sing them because you don’t want people to just hear the words. You want them to feel them. Music is what happens when your body and soul speak at the same time.”
Heather leaned her head back against the headstone and closed her eyes while humming.“I love that.”
“Me too,” I whispered.
She stood.
“Where are you going?”
“Joanna’s making popcorn for the funeral. You know how much I love popcorn.”She nodded toward the church.“Get going. I bet your family saved you a seat.”
“Don’t go,” I said, quickly standing and wiping off my wrinkled dress.
“I’m not going anywhere,”she said, wistfully walking away and glancing over her shoulder with a sly grin.“But you are.”She winked.“You’re going far. Carry me with you. Sing me all of your songs. Be with the man of our dreams. Just don’t be afraid.”She turned back toward the gates and kept walking.
“Afraid of what?” I tried to reach her, but she remained effortlessly out of reach.
“Letting go.”
“Lettinggo of what?”
“The hate … the fear … the need to please …”She laughed, holding her hands out to the side like an angel.“Let it all go.”