Greg smiled as they drove off. “Fergie’ll be glad you’re back. I think he’s about fed up with my cooking by now.”
Kate shook her head. “All you have to do is pour it in his bowl, Greg.”
“I know. I guess I’m not sure he likes the way I pour.”
Kate smiled, resting her head against Greg’s shoulder. The skyline of Manhattan came into view. She was going home.
“You’re right,” she said, “it really doesn’t matter anymore.”
“What, pooch?” Greg answered.
“Nothing.” Kate closed her eyes. In his arms it all seemed a million miles away. “He’s probably dead.”
Thursday was damp and drizzly and windy, the day Kate, Em, and Justin said good-bye to their mom.
The service was at Temple Beth Shalom, the Sephardic congregation on East Sixty-second Street where Kate and her family had always belonged. Only a handful of their old friends were even notified, and just a single, brief notice was placed in the Times, by Kate and the kids, under “Raab.” At Kate’s insistence. Her family had been gone for over a year. A lot of their friends in Larchmont had walked away from them. Kate wasn’t even sure who would show.
The simple casket they chose was made of polished walnut. Sharon would have approved, Kate knew. Rabbi Chakin, a soft-spoken, white-haired man, had known Kate’s mom and dad since the kids were young. He had bar mitzvahed all of them. But this … this was something you hoped you never had to do.
Kate sat numbly in the first row. She held tightly to Greg’s hand, her arm around Justin and Emily. When the cantor sang the opening hymn, her clear, plaintive voice filling the sanctuary, that was when they realized why they were here. That was when the tears started to flow. The rabbi intoned:
“Cleanse me with hyssop, O Lord, Wash me, and I will be whiter than snow. Hide your face from our sins, and blot out all my iniquity. Create in me a new heart, O God, And a steadfast spirit, renewed.”
It all seemed so horribly unfair, such a waste. Only eighteen months ago, everything had been perfect in their lives. The kids were happy and achieving. Her father was admired and successful. Their holiday cards were filled with photos from fantastic trips. Now they had to bury their mom in a hushed and secretive manner.
Now no one even knew where their father was.
Em leaned her head on Kate’s shoulder, sobbing. She didn’t understand. Justin stared straight ahead. Kate pulled their faces close. As much as she wanted to mourn, something else was digging inside her. An anger. Mom didn’t deserve this. None of them did.
Goddamn you, Dad.… What have you done?
At some point Kate looked around. She had this silly, childish notion that she would somehow see him, in the rear of the sanctuary. And he would rush up to them, tearfully begging forgiveness, and would undo everything that had happened with just a wink and a snap of his fingers, like he’d always done. And they could go back to just being themselves.
But no one was standing there. Instead Kate saw something just as moving.
The rows had all filled in. The place was packed with people she used to know, most of whom she hadn’t seen in the longest time. Faces from their club. From her mother’s yoga studio. Two of Sharon’s oldest friends from college, who now lived in Baltimore and Atlanta. Classmates from Westfield, Em and Justin’s old school. Gathered there. For them.
Kate felt tears stream down her cheeks.
“Look,” she said to Justin and Em. “Look!” They turned. They had denied so much of themselves in the past year. Now this showed that they weren’t alone.
Look what you robbed her of, Kate imagined saying to her dad. This was her life. It was hers, even if you were willing to throw it away. Where are you? Why aren’t you seeing this? Look at what you’ve done!
The rabbi said a few words after the prayers. When he was finished, Kate stepped up to the bimah. She looked out at the hushed, filled pews. Greg smiled, encouragingly. It took everything she had to be up there, but someone had to speak for her mother. She looked out at the tearful, familiar faces. Grandma Ruth. Aunt Abbie, Mom’s sister.
“I’m here to tell you some things about my mom,” Kate said. “Sharon Raab.”
It felt good to say it loudly. To proclaim it. Kate sucked back a rush of tears and smiled. “And I bet none of you ever knew how Mom loved to dance.…”
She told them about West Side Story. And how Sharon loved to watch Everybody Loves Raymond reruns after the late-night news and sometimes had to sneak out to the den so it wouldn’t disturb her dad. And how, when she did her first successful solo yoga headstand, she screamed at the top of her lungs from the basement for everyone to come down and see. “And there was Mom, standing on her head, going, ‘See! See!’” The mourners laughed. “We all thought the house was on fire!”
Kate told them how much her mother had been there for her when Kate got sick, how she’d constructed charts and schedules to keep her on track with her insulin. And when their life suddenly changed, “this surreal, unimaginable shift of fortune,” she changed. She never lost her pride. “She held our family together. She was the only one who could do it. Thank you, Mom.”
Kate said, “I know you never thought you accomplished enough, but what you didn’t know was that just being there for us was enough. I’m really going to miss that smile and the twinkle in your eyes. But I know that all I’ll have to do is close my eyes and you’ll be right there by me—always. I’ll hear that sweet voice telling me you love me and that everything is going to work out for the best. It always does. I am so grateful to have had your presence in my life, Mom. You were a truly amazing person to have as a guide.”
At the end a single cellist played “Somewhere” from West Side Story. Kate, Justin, and Em followed Sharon’s casket down the aisle. They stopped and wrapped their arms around people with tear-stained faces. People she might never see again. At the door Kate turned. She had a moment of perfect peace. See, Mom, they know who you are.
Afterward the hearse led a procession of cars to the cemetery in Westchester, where they had a family plot. On foot they followed the casket up to a small knoll overlooking the cemetery gate. Under a canopy of spruces, there was a large hole in the ground. Sharon’s father was buried there. His mother. There was an empty space alongside for Kate’s father. Only the family gathered around. Justin rested his head against his Aunt Abbie and started to sob. Suddenly it had hit him. Kate put her arm around Emily. The rabbi recited a final prayer.
They lowered their mother into the grave.
The rabbi handed out white lilacs. One by one, each of them stepped up and tossed a flower onto the casket. Grandma Ruth, who was eighty-eight. Aunt Abbie and her husband, Dave. Kate’s cousins, Matt and Jill, who came in from college. Everyone tossed a flower in, until the blooms became indistinguishable, a quilt of white.
Kate was the last. She and Greg stood silently over the casket. She squeezed his hand. Her eyes lifted for a second, and in the distance, out on the road, she spotted Phil Cavetti and two agents waiting down by the cars. Her blood grew tight.
I won’t give in, she promised. I’m going to find out who did this, Mom.
She tossed the final flower.
I’m going to find out what you wanted to tell me. I’m going to get these bastards. You can rest on that, Mom. I love you. I’ll never forget you for a second.
Good-bye.