With the Last Goodbye

by Len Webster

  For her mother.

  For herself.

  And for Max.

  Josie gazed back down and gripped the paper in her right hand a little tighter, ensuring that her left hand didn’t leave her mother’s casket. Then, to her surprise, Max covered her hand on the casket with his own. It felt supportive and warm. It countered the coldness and loneliness she felt in her chest.

  “Just for me,” he whispered.

  So then Josie began to read the speech for her mother that only Max would hear.

  My name’s Josephine Faulkner, and I happen to be blessed with having Emily Faulkner as my mother. My mother sacrificed so much for me, and for many years, I never appreciated her love enough. She continuously told me how much she loved me. Continuously supported me. She raised me when I was problematic and selfish. She was there when I gave up dreams. She was there to pick me up and tell me never to be discouraged because someday, I’d have the world and the stars and all the moons. I just had to experience the very worst in order to appreciate the very best. I had the best mother who took the blame when I was alone and didn’t have anyone else’s love.

  When I was eight, my mother had to explain to me why my dad was never coming home. She cried, and I had blamed her for doing something wrong. When I was nine, I threw a rock at her car because I couldn’t stop crying that she showed up for Daddy-Daughter day. When I was ten, my mother told me I would have a sister. That my dad would have another daughter. She held me when I cried and screamed and asked why doesn’t my dad love me. She took me for a long drive and promised that my dad loved me just as much as he would love his new daughter.

  When I was eleven, I ran away. I hadn’t made it five streets when I stopped and hid in a tunnel at the playground and wished someone would find me. I ended up crawling out of the tunnel to find her sitting on the bench. She got up and held her arms open. I ran into them, and she just held me. When I was twelve, she told me she loved me as she held my hand and walked me into a restaurant to see my dad for the first time in a year. He didn’t show. Instead, my mother stayed and had tea with me. She promised me that when her business took off, she’d take me anywhere in the world. She promised I’d even ride camels in the Middle East if that was what I wanted. She said she’d take me to Norway for the first snowflake if that was what I also wanted. She made me forget my disappointment that day.

  When I was thirteen, I danced for the last time for my mother. It was in the lounge of our house. Edith Piaf was singing, and Mamma had tears in her eyes. For a moment, I wanted to keep dancing just so she could have that proud smile on her face. But I was too heartbroken to ever dance again. That last dance will be one of my favourite memories with her. When I was fourteen, I had my first kiss. It was to a boy I had always liked. But when that kiss ended, he had told me that his parents would never let him date a girl who didn’t have married parents. When I told my mother, she went straight to that boy’s house and scolded his parents for their prejudice. It was the day I saw so much strength in her. When I was fifteen, I stopped believing in miracles. Fifteen was a long year. I remember Mamma dancing because that was the year her business made a profit and she could hire more people so that more people had jobs to feed their families.

  When I was sixteen, she baked me sixteen cupcakes because I didn’t want to celebrate another year without my dad. When I was seventeen, she promised me that when I grew up, she would teach me how I could make my daughter sixteen cupcakes. When I was eighteen, I told her I wanted to be a lawyer. It was the same year I got into law school. So she went out and bought every book she could get her hands on so she could learn about law as well. It was also the year I got a job and met some of best people who loved my mamma as much as I do. When I was nineteen, my dad let me down when he didn’t come home for his scheduled visit. Instead, he went to the Swiss Alps and skied with his family. I was nineteen when I dyed my hair and dated the kind of men my mother wished I hadn’t. At nineteen, I continuously let her down, but her love for me never waned.

  Then at twenty, my mother broke heart for the very first time when she told me she had cancer. I cried. I yelled at her. I made her promise me that she would never leave me and that she wouldn’t give up. It was the year I got my act together and became the real Josie. The one standing before you all, baring to you the pain of disappointment and telling you just how amazing she was.

  When I was twenty-one, she was in remission.

  I’m now twenty-two, and I’m saying goodbye to her. My mother fought hard. Loved even harder. Forgave when many didn’t deserve it. My mother had hope and so much wisdom. She once told me that I deserved more love in my life than just her love, and I found that. I found love that makes my heart full. And I think her knowing that I have found that makes her proud of me. My mother loved life. She loved the rain the most. Her favourite song was “La Vie en Rose”, and she shared it with me so that it could be our song. Then I shared it with the man I love, and he made it his song, too. It bonded him with my mother, and he gave her the best goodbye anyone could ever imagine.

  I’m gonna tell you all a few more things about my mother that she would probably want you to remember her by than her cancer. My mother was afraid of sharks but loved the sharks from Finding Nemo. She was relieved when I told her that I had no intentions of playing sports when I was in primary school because she hated sports. Her favourite number was twenty-one. Her favourite movie was Sabrina. Her favourite city in the world was Paris. She once ate sixteen chocolate chip cookies because my old boss, Danny, refused outside food in his store. Her dream trip was to see as much of France as possible while collecting postcards from every French town she visited.

  And finally, she once told me that the proudest moment of her life was the life she had with me after I was born. That being a mother meant more than trips to France. Meant more than postcards. Being a mother was her having the world, and the stars, and the moons because she could never be discouraged. Because she had already experienced the worst and had the very best by having a daughter. By having me. By choosing me. By loving me. My mother was the first person to ever put me first, and I will never stop loving her. You all have your stories and your wonderful memories with Emily Faulkner. I ask that you hold them close to you and remember her. Because that’s what she deserves.

  Just remember her.

  Josie’s speech was beautiful.

  She had bared her soul.

  But he understood why she kept it to herself. Though she might not admit it out loud, her speech spoke of her father’s neglect. And Max knew she already felt a lot of guilt for yelling at him after her mother had died. It was a side of her he had never seen before. She had exploded. But he was sure she was unleashing fourteen years of rage as she told her father she hated him and to get out. She had accused him of never loving her mother and to go back to Germany to his real family. To Max’s surprise, Jeff had handled it well when he told Josie that he loved her and didn’t believe she meant her words. Then he had left and given Josie space.

  That had been almost eight days ago.

  Max removed the hand that covered hers on her mother’s casket and took the paper from her. She was shaking. He felt it and saw it. “Josephine,” he whispered.

  She blinked her tears free and then lifted her chin, so those beautiful sad eyes were on him. “I can’t say all that, Max.”

  “I know. That’s why I should say it on your behalf.”

  Her eyes widened. “Max, I said some stuff about my dad that I don’t want people to know. He doesn’t even know about my real feelings at that time. I just wrote it so I had an outlet for my grief.”

  “I just want to say the last parts if that’s okay? They need to know those wonderful things about your mother.”

  She lowered her chin as she mulled it over. Finally, just as the man in charge of the service walked into the church, she said, “I’d like it if you spoke on my behalf.”

  Max nodded.

  “Ah, excuse me, Miss Faulkner?”
Mr Shames interrupted.

  Max stepped back just as Josie spun around. Mr Shames made his way down the aisle to them, and a tight smile spread across his lips once he reached them.

  “Yes, Mr Shames?”

  “We’re ready when you are.”

  Josie nodded. “I’m ready.”

  “Okay,” Mr Shames said as he pushed his jet-black hair behind his ears and adjusted his black tie. He wore a suit with his white business shirt. Max wondered if he wore the same suit to every funeral service. “I’ll step outside and start letting everyone in. Miss Weller already has those you wanted most lining up. I’ll let you both take your seat.”

  “Thank you,” Josie said and then made her way back to the pew. Max took her in. She wore a tight but modest long-sleeve dress with black stockings. She had been wearing a jacket that he had helped her put on earlier this morning, but it was too hot in the church to keep it on.

  Max joined her and sat down on the wooden bench. He folded Josie’s speech and slid it into the pocket of his black dress pants. Unlike Mr Shames, Max wore a black button-down long-sleeve shirt and a slim black satin tie. On his chest was the pink rose enamel pin that Stella had given him and Josie to wear in the memory of Emily.

  Josie’s fingers met the back of his hand. They grazed until she let out a slow exhale, and Max turned his hand so she could thread her fingers with his.

  With her hand encased in his, he knew she would be okay.

  That someday, they would be okay, too.

  The service was beautiful.

  They had pictures and videos of Emily with her friends, her parents, her ex-husband—everyone but Josie. But he knew that was for the end. The final slideshow that would play “La Vie en Rose” as pictures of Emily and her daughter were projected onto the screen. Josie had tears stream down her face as her best friend, Stella, spoke about how Emily was like a second mother to her. Spoke of how much she missed her and commended Emily on her brave fight against cancer. When Stella ended her speech, she climbed off the podium, went to the casket, and pressed her palm against the wood. Then she returned to her seat next to Josie. After Stella, Emily’s employee, Viviane, spoke about what a wonderful boss and friend Emily was. That she could never be half the person Josie’s mother was. A few other people spoke about their favourite memories before Jeff was called up to the podium.

  Josie tightened her grip on Max’s hand as Jeff got up from his seat next to Max and made his way to the podium. Max held his breath as he waited for the ambassador to say his speech. Jeff hadn’t confirmed whether he would speak at Emily’s funeral until last night. Josie had been worried he might say something she didn’t want to hear, but Max assured her that her father wouldn’t do anything like that. One, the ambassador loved his ex-wife. And two, he was an ambassador—he had an image to uphold.

  Jeff cleared his throat, and his eyes scanned the church once before landing on his daughter. His face visibly saddened. “Hello, everyone. My name’s Jeff Faulkner. Some of you may know me as an Australian Ambassador. But for nine years of my life, I was Emily’s husband. I wasn’t perfect. And Emily, she was perfection. When I first met Emily, we were in school. I fell in love so quickly it was crazy. I had to beg her to date me. I had to beg her to stop being my friend and let me treat her the way she always deserved to be treated. The first time I told Emily I loved her, she told me shut up because I wasn’t being fair. I was stunned. She told me that I wasn’t being fair because she wanted to be the one to say it first since I had asked her out.

  “I had many years with Emily. Many years when she was my friend, my girlfriend, my fiancée, my beautiful wife, and then the mother of my daughter, Josephine. Our marriage was beautiful until I became obsessed with having the perfect life. Which meant taking the perfect job. I had always wanted to work in foreign affairs, and when I was offered the job as the Australian Ambassador to Germany, I took it without even consulting her. What was worse was she wanted me to achieve my dreams even though it meant leaving behind a family. So I did a terrible thing and threw away the love of my family for my career. I was a terrible husband but an even worse father. Because every time I let our daughter down, I let Emily down.

  “Emily was a patient woman who I broke more times than I can count. I still love her. We have memories no one could ever replace. We have a beautiful daughter together—who looks just like her. I might have been a terrible parent, but Emily was the best. She was life and love and everything beautiful. And when I heard she had cancer, a part of me died inside. Because a part of me still loved her and was remorseful for a life we could never have. As I look at this church full of her friends and the people she loved the most, I know that Emily left this world with more love than she had entered it with. I wish you eternal peace, Em. I will love you fondly and forever. Thank you for loving the man you always saw good in. And I promise you that I will never stop trying to be a part of our daughter’s life.”

  Max glanced over to find tears rolling down Josie’s cheeks. Her grip on his hand hadn’t loosened. In fact, it had tightened.

  “And I would like to welcome Max Sheridan to the podium to speak on Josie’s behalf,” Mr Shames announced over the microphone.

  Josie’s turned in her seat as her teary gaze met his. “You don’t have to,” she said in a small voice.

  With his free hand, he cupped the back of her head and brought her forehead to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on her skin. Then he glanced down at her and whispered, “I would do everything and anything for you.” Then Max got up, and Josie let go of his hand. He climbed the few steps and made his way to the wooden podium and stepped behind it. Max adjusted the microphone and gazed out at all the mourners. He noticed his best friends in the third row. They all wore black to show their support for Josie. He would have to thank them for their support after the service.

  Reaching into his pocket, Max pulled out Josie’s speech. He unfolded it and held it between his fingers as his eyes focused on Josie. There was a vacant spot next to her. Her father hadn’t slid across the bench to comfort her. Instead, Stella reached over and grasped her hand.

  He smiled at her, and his heart went wild when she returned his smile with her own.

  “Hello, everyone,” he said into the microphone. “My name’s Max Sheridan, and I’m Josephine’s—” He paused and watched Josie’s eyes widened. They didn’t have a label. They had nothing to classify them. He didn’t want to pressure her into putting them into a definition that would terrify her, so he backtracked. “Josephine is the love my life. And I have seen her strength through this hard time. Strength I know her mother would be so proud of. But today, she needs to mourn just like you all do. So for Josephine, I’ll speak on her behalf the beautiful words she wrote to her mother.”

  Max glanced down at the paper because he needed a minute. He knew he’d have to cut out the part that involved her father. He couldn’t read that after the emotional speech Jeff had made where he admitted he was a terrible father. So Max took a deep breath and hoped he’d make Josie proud as he read the beautiful words she had written for her mother.

  “My name’s Josephine Faulkner, and I happen to be blessed with having Emily Faulkner as my mother. My mother sacrificed so much for me, and for many years, I never appreciated her love enough. She continuously told me how much she loved me. Continuously supported me. She raised me when I was problematic and selfish. She was there when I gave up dreams. She was there to pick me up and tell me never to be discouraged because someday I’ll have the world and the stars and all the moons. I just had to experience the very worst in order to appreciate the very best. I had the best mother who took the blame when I was alone and didn’t have anyone else’s love.

  “My mother fought hard. Loved even harder. Forgave when many didn’t deserve it. My mother had hope and so much wisdom. She once told me that I deserved more love in my life than just her love, and I found that. I found love that makes my heart full.” Max paused.

  She found love with
him. The love her mother had always wanted her to find. Then he lifted his chin to find the smile on her face had stretched wider as her tears continued to fall. He saw the love in her eyes. It was amazing to hear her say it earlier. But to actually read those words made him feel content. As if he had found his home with her. Home was Josephine. He wanted it so badly. Needed it so badly. Then Max’s gaze fell back to her speech, and he continued.

  “And I think her knowing that I have found that makes her proud of me. My mother loved life. She loved the rain the most. Her favourite song was ‘La Vie en Rose,’ and she shared it with me so that it could be our song. Then I shared it with the man I love, and he made it his song, too. It bonded him with my mother, and he gave her the best goodbye anyone could ever imagine. I’m gonna tell you all a few more things about my mother that she would probably want you to remember her by than her cancer.

  “My mother was afraid of sharks but loved the sharks from Finding Nemo. She was relieved when I told her that I had no intentions of playing sports when I was in primary school because she hated sports. Her favourite number was twenty-one. Her favourite movie was Sabrina. Her favourite city in the world was Paris. She once ate sixteen chocolate chip cookies because my old boss, Danny, refused outside food in his store. Her dream trip was to see as much of France as possible while collecting postcards from every French town she visited.

  “And finally, she once told me that the proudest moment of her life was the life she had with me after I was born. That being a mother meant more than trips to France. Meant more than postcards. Being a mother was her having the world, and the stars, and the moons because she could never be discouraged. Because she had experienced the worst and had the very best by having a daughter. By having me. By choosing me. By loving me. My mother was the first person to ever put me first and I will never stop loving her. You all have your stories, your wonderful memories with Emily Faulkner. And I ask that you hold them close to you and remember her. Because that’s what she deserves. Just remember her.”