The church was full, which astounded the young men who stood in front of the sea of people -he hadn’t thought of his mother’s friends as church-goers, but he guessed that their coming could be seen as a statement of their devotion to her. The thought pleased him. It strengthened him, too. If they’d all made it here, he told himself, they would listen to what he had to say. It made saying it easier. Nothing of what was in his speech was new, most of the anecdotes everyone would know already, but wasn’t that the point of telling anecdotes? His mother had always been full of them. She had been full of crap, and bad jokes, and of laughter and life. He had loved her for it. They all had.
Suddenly he realised that not only was the church full, it was quiet as well. Everbody was waiting for him, and his mother’s only son, and he had been staring at his feet for the better part of five minuted, fidgetting and thinking about what was the point of telling an anecdote. He felt al litlle ashamed, and told himslef to get started.
For the people watching him, however, waiting was not a problem at all. They understood, and sat quietly, in adoration for a dear friend they had lost, in respect of the young man who stood there, dressed smartly but who coulnd’t in the world care for the clothes he wore today. He was in his late twenties, ash blonde hair pushed away from his face, to reveal freckles on his nose and the stuble on his chin. The black suit and the light which fell in through painted glass made him look older.
He sighed and finally looked up, meeting the eyes of two persons his mother had loved as much as him: her husband Peter, and Aunt Ezzie, who in fact wasn’t his Aunt at all, but she made for one, better than his real aunts did. They sat together, smiling up at him and noddig in encouragment.
"I feel humbled that today I am allowed to stand here in front of you all. Sad, of course, for the loss of my mother, and angered, for the doctors coulnd’t treat her and make her better like they have treated so many other women and did make them better. But, most of all, I do feel humbled. Such an honour it is to speak for her, and about her and of her… and it makes me wonder whether, not I, but Ezzie here, should stand up. She’s got stories to tell, I know.
So did my mom. And as Auntie Ezziez stories are stories about my mother, my mother’s stories are about Ezzie. What we’ve been through, Lot, she’d say, would make your hairs stand on end. And some of those stories did."
Lot paused for a second, cleared his throat and added, "… However, given the fact that we find ourselves in one of God´s many houses, perhaps we should keep those for later."
He was glad his audience laughed.
" Angela, my mother, and Ezzie have been through a lot toghether. You might even call ´a lot´ an understatement. Divorces, births, marriages, the deaths of their parents, high school, a car crash… you name it, they´ve experienced it. Their shared experiences are wonderful and horrible and magical, and they were also the fuel for Angela´s attempt at her own talk show. It was just tough luck that back then, YouTube hadn´t been invented yet.
" Of course, to mention Ezzie, I should also mention Peter. If it wasn´t for him, I know my mother would have been very lonely during the years that I went to University, and I am not sure that she would have had the courage to fight through so many of the chemo´s without him by her side. Peter is, as you all know, not my father. That doesn´t matter. I coulnd´t have loved him more if he was.
Mom and I have been toghether for ever, just to two of us. By the time I was eight, she would drop me off at Ezzie´s, dress up, and leave on dates. She wouldn´t mind having a man, she told me. But I am a man, I objected. Yes dear, but you can´t fix my car yet, she´d answer. I remember a little incident involving a sledge hammer and the car of one of mom´s dates. I wanted to show them (her ánd that guy) that I could, in fact, fix a car. We were lucky that he should deal in second hand cars himself, I think he would have sued us otherwise. He didn´t return, though. Peter did. He came back when I had had a bad report card, he came back to take us out to the beach, he came back to stay and to never go elsewhere.
"Mom and I both owe a lot to Ezzie and Peter."
The crowd was listening, really listening, and he saw the delight in their eyes, and the recognition in their smiles. To his right, he could see Angela´s family, her sisters and their husbands, shaking their heads and looking at him with shocked faces. One of them had her hands in a fists. To be honest, it was an indication that he was doint the right thing. If they didn´t approve or understand, than it was the best speech he could give his mother.
" She also owes you all, her friends and soul mates… her old high school girlfriends, the biker gang, Boris and Todd.
When standing before you, I feel humbled because you have been such good compagnions. I will, therefore, make an end to all this speeching, confessing to you that I came up here, merely to scuttle, to say thank you, to make you remember her. And I would also like to say goodbyre."
Lot put down his papers, nodded to the people in the wooden benches, and nodded to the woman in de wooden cask.
NO IDEA where this all came from. Please answer question (see title) and give comments in reaction!
