Prologue
Massimo
17 years ago
“Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust…” Father De Lucca mutters before he pauses for a moment.
I gaze at him standing at the head of my mother’s grave. The solemn expression on his face deepens, and the pinch in his brows tells me he feels our loss too.
I remember him telling me stories about my mother when she was little. He was the priest who married my parents. I doubt he thought this day would come.
No one did. Not this soon, or so sudden.
Father De Lucca pulls in a breath, looks around the gathering of mourners, and continues. “In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ, who is able to subdue all things. God has received one of his angels today… I commit Sariah Abriella D’Agostino’s body back to the earth from whence she came, and I wish for a blessing on her beautiful, kind soul.”
I stare and note how my father looks at him on those final words. I wonder if Father De Lucca found it strange too. That my mother would kill herself.
Pa is standing paces away from him. A tear runs down his cheek as a light sparks in his eyes, probably from the kindness in the blessing.
The light fades a moment later, and he returns to being the broken man. I’m twelve years old, but I know what broken looks like. It’s how I feel.
Up until now, I’ve never seen Pa cry. Never. Not even years ago when we lost everything and were thrown into the streets with nothing but the clothes on our backs.
My grandfather gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. When I glance up at him, he gives me a reassuring look. The type that everybody else has given since this all happened.
Grandfather has one hand on me and the other on Dominic, my youngest brother. My other two brothers, Andreas and Tristan, stand at his other side.
Dominic hasn’t stopped crying, not once since we told him Ma wouldn’t be coming home. He’s only eight years old. I hate that he has to go through this. We all teased him for being the baby and clinging to Ma. But then, we all clung to her in some way.
The only other funeral I’ve been to was my Abuelita’s. But at six years old, I was too young to understand death. Back then, I didn’t feel the way I do now. Like the collision of numbness and anger inside me will rip me apart.
Maybe I feel like that because it was me who found Ma in the river.
I was the first person to see her dead.
I was the first person to confirm our worst fears after she’d gone missing.
I was the first person to know that the last time we saw each other was goodbye forever.
We all looked for her for three days. It was while I was walking by the riverbank at Stormy Creek that I saw her, just drifting there in the water amongst the Cattail reeds. Her eyes still open, glassy. Her skin pale. Lips… blue. Her body rocking gently from side to side in the water. I’ll never forget the way she looked. Like a lifeless doll with her white blonde hair flowing out around her, her dainty features still looking so perfect. But lifeless. No more.
Inside I’m still screaming.
They said she must have jumped off the cliff. That’s what I heard the grownups saying.
Suicide…
Ma killed herself.
It doesn’t feel real.
It doesn’t feel right.
I’m pulled from my thoughts when Father De Lucca nods his head and Pa takes a handful of the dirt to throw down into the grave. When he finishes scattering the dust, he gets down on one knee and holds out the single red rose he’s been carrying since we got here. We all have one.
“Ti amo, amore mio. I will love you forever and ever,” he says. My parents always declared their love for each other. Always.