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“The one whose gifts she shared,
The one who always cared,
Mum… she’s the one.”
They were just words, but the way he sang them with such emotion and conviction, it was as though they were pebbles dropping into a pool of joy, their impact spreading outwards in loving ripples.
“She never left my side,
She taught me to express, not hide,
Mum… she’s the one.”
Guests turned on the light on their e-pads and held them up in the air, waving and swaying them to the music like they were candles and I did the same, while a smile played on my lips.
“When times were so tough I thought I’d die,
She held me till my tears were dry,
Mum… she’s the one…
And as I get ready to leave the nest,
I want you to know you’ve been the best,
Mum… she’s the one…
Yes, Mum… you’re the one.”
His voice lifted high on the last note, raising a swirl of emotion to the roof and letting it float softly back down, filling the room as he drew the words out in one slow, last breath.
He bowed his head and stood still for a moment as applause lifted the energy of the room back up to the roof. My heart pulsing and filling with pride, I walked up to Ryan – my son – and slid my arms around his back as a lone tear slid down my face.
Chapter 16
Be Careful What You Wish For
“Why is a birthday cake the only food you can blow on and spit on and everybody rushes to get a piece?” – Bobby Kelton
Our embrace broke as a high-pitched tapping rang through the air. Will approached the microphone, tapping at a glass with a spoon and Ryan moved to the side to allow his father to take centre stage.
“If I could have everyone’s attention, please. The time has come for me to say a few words about my darling wife, Kelli. I’ve taken the liberty of creating a little show for you, so pull up a pod and enjoy.” He put down his glass and picked up a remote, like the one I used at the meeting and pointed it at a blank area of wall behind him. A screen grew to life, showing a picture of me along with a heading: Fifty Years of Kelli McSnelly – Oh joy.
A song I didn’t recognise played and an image of myself as a rosy-cheeked baby appeared, much to my embarrassment. The image transitioned to another of me as a four-year-old, standing on top of the tree house Dad had built. Kasey was also in the picture, stuck on the bottom rung of the ladder, as she’d been too young. There were school photos, ranging from the younger years to the early teenage years and photos of me with my friends at a birthday party; my fifteenth from memory. Cringing, I wondered if I’d really thought floral dresses were cool?
This was my life – set to music. As if aware of the rapid shift in my life from age twenty-five, the song’s tempo intensified and pictures I didn’t recall faded in and out on the screen. Will and I at our engagement party and wedding, arms entwined with wine glasses in our hands. My heart raced as I discovered this life of mine one picture at a time, the gap between when I went to bed last night and this very moment gradually being filled. I tapped my foot to the music and also because I was anxious to see the next picture.
Oh my God. Was that my stomach? In the photo I was standing side-on, one hand placed over my swollen belly, ready to pop at any moment. The next picture showed me in the hospital holding a squashed up little human and smiling like I’d been given the best present of my life. I glanced over at Diora sitting on a pod in the Bliss Garden, her glossy eyes fixed on the screen, rubbing her belly and felt a warm pang of an emotion I’d never experienced before.
The photos continued… Diora as a tiara-wearing toddler, commanding the room with her toy microphone and another hospital photo, this time with baby Ryan whose hair must have had delayed growth because he was completely bald. Willing my eyes not to blink so as to not miss a moment, I glued them to the wall as photos of me with Will and the children graced the screen.
On Diora’s first day of school I had red blotches under my eyes and a tissue in my hand, the other hand holding firmly onto Diora’s. There was the four of us on holiday at a water park, my hands outstretched to catch Ryan at the bottom of the water slide. I laughed, along with all my guests at the photo of me and Diora at a festival with our faces painted like cats, and Will and I collapsed on the floor during a game of Twister.
There were several photos of me, Elaine and Diora dressed in our costumes for the production of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. My face was scrunched up to suit my Grumpy character. Not very becoming at all, but funny nonetheless and probably the trigger for the beginning of my crow’s feet and forehead furrows – definitely the lip wrinkles.
More photos slid by, including me working at a large table, drawing designs onto paper and glancing up at the camera with a look of peace. Another where I was dressed in a suit and standing in front of a display table full of homewares from KC Interiors, and another right at the moment of opening a bottle of wine, my face turned away from the liquid spraying everywhere. Next was a picture of me with a group of about ten sitting on the beach at night, eating fish and chips, with the heading ‘Kelli’s 49th birthday’. A caption above my image said, ‘This is the most memorable birthday ever,’ and the one above Ryan said, ‘You just wait till next year, Mum.’ Boy, was he right or what?
And finally, a photo of our family on the skiing trip where I broke my ribs, followed by the video of my bungy jump from this morning, luckily without a close-up view of my screams for life. Strange, to see the jump from an outsider’s point of view, when my memory felt so different to what it looked like on the screen. At the end of the video, the music ended with a photo of me as I was today, smiling and wrapped in a woolly jumper. Everyone cheered, raising their clapping hands in the air, some raising their tubes of champagne. I nodded my thanks at everyone and Will tapped his glass again.
