Sometimes we experience moments that we hope could last forever. And at other times, the moments we love pass away quickly in crimson sunsets or scroll past us like high, vaporous clouds. Other experiences blaze in our memories with beauty and wonder across the horizon of our years. But Lance and I knew that we were different. We cherished the moments as they came, knowing full well that even the most promising of days could suddenly end in disaster. This realization was, however, the one great adventure we shared together—a journey we now cherished as the promise of better days to come. We both knew that, living so closely in the crucible of death and dying, that our love was more immediate, more responsive . . . a treasure we cherished more than life itself. Ours was stronger than most and we would guard each other with a desperate passion.
So while it was still Christmas, we didn’t want the day to end.
“Let’s celebrate,” Lance told me before we left the morgue. “Let’s get our act together and have a nice dinner at your place.”
“Yes,” I said. “Let’s.”
“Invite the crew,” Lance said. I knew the short list.
“Just give me an hour to get ready,” I told Lance. “I’ve got to drop the hearse off at the funeral home. I’ll make some calls. You can start getting things ready on the home front.”
The plan sounded stodgy but Lance agreed. And, as we parted at the morgue, he leaned in and gave me yet another memorable kiss, his warmer hands wrapping my face, holding me close. But even then, I could feel him beginning to tremble in the encroaching freeze.
The streets were still so quiet, ice cold and barren, as I pulled out of the parking lot, my heart so full I thought it might explode. I wondered how I should break the news to David and Silvia, but then decided that Lance and I would do it together.
When I arrived at the funeral home, I switched out the cars and made a quick sashay through the rooms to make sure the furnace was working. I checked to see that Rose had unplugged the coffee pot. I turned out the lights.
Sitting down at my desk, I called Silvia first. She answered, as she always does, right away. “You’re still planning on Christmas, I hope.”
“What’s happened?” Silva asked. “You’re calling from the funeral home, aren’t you?”
“Long story,” I said. “Short conclusion. I was called out early this morning to pick up a body.”
“Happens every year,” she said. “I’ve grown accustomed to your afternoon Christmas parties.”
“Just come over,” I said. “We’ll celebrate.”
David was much the same. He was nonplussed when I called, but eager to bring me the latest edition of the newspaper, some doughnuts, and a thermos of hot coffee. “It’s a little late in the day for that now, David,” I said. “Just bring yourself. You know the routine.”
“I’ll be there,” he said. “Just promise me you won’t pick up the phone when Jack the Ripper calls.”
“Promise.”
I hung up, draped my scarf more tightly around my neck; the cold seeming to penetrate the walls. And it was getting colder. I hoped Lance would have a blazing fire waiting for me in the fireplace when I returned, candles lit, lights up. I wanted the full warmth of the day and all of the love of my friends.
Then, as I was about to leave for home, I thought of Rose Edgewater. We had become fast friends and I couldn’t bear the thought of her being alone on Christmas afternoon. Sooner or later, she would have to be exposed to my gang of four—and I thought she might as well join the crew. I dialed her number and was elated when she answered.
“Rose,” I said right off, “we’re having a party at my house. I’m driving over now to pick you up. I won’t take no for an answer.”
“Then I won’t say no,” Rose told me. “I won’t even put on any makeup.”
“All the better.”
“I have no gifts,” Rose said. “But I could bring some peanut butter fudge. I made a batch late last night.”
“That’s enough,” I said. “A sweet treat would be perfect.”
Rose was quiet for a few seconds and then said, “Thank you, Mary. I hope I’m not intruding.”
“Never,” I said. “So, I’ll be by in a few minutes. Bundle up. It’s cold outside.”
And, with the plans complete, I gathered up my things and headed out the front door, the cold air socking me in the face, stinging my eyes. It was the coldest Christmas I could remember on the outside. But inside there was a warmth gathering that I knew would bring us all closer together. Nothing, I thought, could put a damper on that. Not even death.