There will be other bands.
Chapter 23: A Good Life
Avery
“My father had very few regrets,” I say to the rows of familiar faces looking back at me. It’s an unusually warm day, and hundreds showed up for Ray’s service, so all I see are waving programs and note cards as people fan their faces.
“You all knew him, and most of you knew him well, because that’s who my father was. He loved fiercely, he embraced friends easily, and once Ray Abbot was on your side—it was hard to lose him. Some did…but those people were few and far between.
“He never stopped parenting. He was giving me advice up until the very end. I didn’t always follow his advice, and per usual, my father was right—I regret not taking those things to heart. But his lessons will always stick with me, and in his absence, I’m vowing to take his place in this world—at least as best as I can. I’m going to enjoy this earth and the people on it every chance I get, and I’m going to appreciate every single one of you.”
I’m struck when I glance over the dozens of smiles looking back at me. No one is crying, and they shouldn’t. Ray Abbot spread joy in the world—it’s why he loved music so much, and why he tried to encourage people who had that talent to share it with the world—people like Mason.
“I know many of you are worried about what will happen to Dusty’s. It’s been around a long time. My father opened it years ago, and I don’t intend on closing it. Please, bear with me though—I’m not my father, and I don’t really know the ins and outs of the bar business. I plan on getting some help…eventually. But these next few months might be a little bumpy. We’ll open back up in two weeks—an open mic night, in true Ray Abbot style. In the meantime, spend your weeknights with your loved ones. I’m asking you to do this for me. Squeeze in those moments, and make time. These moments are precious, and…as my father said to me not so long ago, ‘you only get to do now once in your life. Do it right.’”
I manage to hold it together until I leave the stage and edge back up into Claire’s side. I lose it again the moment her hand slips in mine. We aren’t a particularly religious family—we’ve been to church a few times, but when it came time to settle on services for my dad, I just went with the same everything that he did for my mom. This stuff mattered more to her.
The minister directs everyone to the burial, and I walk along with Claire. Max stayed at the house with Jenny, his therapist. She’s been so helpful on guiding me through this with Max. My dad’s death isn’t like Adam leaving—Max has memories, even if they’re really more like habits for him, and my dad played an intricate role in his life. He filled a box—and now that box is empty.
The line of cars to the interment is long, though only about half of the guests come for this part—it’s mostly family and close friends. Claire guides me to the site. We picked a simple stone for the marker—right next to my mom’s. I can’t watch this part, so I clasp Claire’s hand and lay my head on her shoulder while others walk up to say their farewells. This part isn’t for me—my goodbye happens in my head, with my memories. I don’t want to taint those visions, the picture I have of him, with anything else.
I recognize the broadness of Mason’s back immediately. He’s not looking either—he wants to remember my dad just the way I do. Claire said he would come, but I didn’t want to count on it. Somewhere in the back of my mind, though, I hoped for it. When he turns to face me, something pulls us together, until our eyes meet. I don’t look away, and neither does he. We stare into each other, my head on my best friend’s shoulder, for the rest of the ceremony.
Claire hugs me tighter to get my attention when people begin to leave. Everyone wants to say something to me, and I know they have to—I would have to too. But when you’re on this side, you don’t really want to hear it. This part takes almost an hour, and by the time it’s only Claire and me, I’m faint and thirsty.
“There’s one person left,” she says into my shoulder. And I know exactly who it is.
“I’m okay, you go on to the house. I’ll go with him,” I say, squeezing her arm to let her know I’m sincere. She kisses the side of my head and gives me one last look, trying to fill me with strength. I don’t have much left.
“Thanks for coming, Mason,” Claire says over my shoulder, and my insides twist just hearing him breathe.
I watch her walk away and make it all the way to her car before I turn to face him completely. “Thank you so much for coming, Mason,” I say as Claire drives away, and I finally take him in. He’s wearing a black suit with a gray shirt underneath. I can tell by the creases on the pants and sleeves that it’s new. He wanted to look nice for my father, and it warms my heart to know that—to see him here looking like this, all for him.