RENE VALCOURT HAD never seen so many people. The line never ended at the funeral home for Freddy’s wake. Rene knew his nephew was well liked, with many friends, but hundreds came to pay their respects. He thought he knew everyone who Freddy knew, but there were so many faces he didn’t recognize.
Rene struggled to interact with the other mourners. He couldn’t stop crying uncontrollably and kept uttering the same sentences to anyone and everyone who would listen. “He wasn’t supposed to go,” he said in a mix of grief and anger. “I’m supposed to go first.” Rene had known Freddy since the guy was born, had helped to raise him from the days when he was a skinny towheaded toddler, and then watched as he evolved into a dark-haired giant of a man.
He was nicknamed “Change-back Freddy” as a little kid. They’d go to the corner store and Freddy was so amazed when he made his first purchase that he received change back from the cashier, so in subsequent visits he would always insist on change back, even if he wasn’t owed any. The clerks loved it and always indulged the precocious lanky boy with at least a penny or two, and the nickname stuck.
Rene remembered how when Freddy was just three years old he had a collection of tiny toy football helmets, each with the insignia of one of a dozen different teams, and little Freddy, amazingly, memorized them all. “Dallas Cowboys!” he’d said in that excited innocent voice. Rene felt those toy helmets helped inspire Freddy’s love of sports. More than just a fan, Freddy played football and baseball at Central High, and eventually became an announcer at the school’s games. It seemed like just the other day Freddy was still playing games. He and Gina, her sons Nicholas and Alex, and Fred’s kids Brandon and Nicole often came over to Rene and Eileen’s big house in Oaklawn for battles on the foosball table, or that Super Mario Brothers video game, or shooting pool.
Poor Gina. They said she might not make it. Rene remembered when Freddy had told him about Gina for the first time. He was in love. And then only a short time later Freddy told Rene that he had asked Gina to marry him, she’d said yes, and Freddy wanted Rene to be his best man. Rene was so honored. It reminded him yet again how they were so much more than just uncle and nephew. Now there was no Freddy, no marriage, and maybe no Gina. It was too much. With each memory came a new burst of tears.
Mourners around the room swapped their own stories about Freddy, a man they saw as larger than life, the one who always had a hug, a laugh, or a joke—and often all three. The younger Rene, Freddy’s cousin, had lived as Freddy’s roommate for a time and would always remember how he talked about Gina. “She’s gonna be the one,” Freddy had said. “I’m going to propose to her.” Rene recalled how nervous Freddy was when he talked about popping the question. “He had feelings he never had before,” Rene said.
Cousin Brian liked to tell the story of the day he wasn’t feeling great but Freddy insisted they go to a rock concert at Great Woods, a live music venue in nearby Massachusetts. Freddy showed up at Brian’s place and dragged him off his sick bed. “An amazing time,” Brian would tell everyone. Whatever bug had brought him down was long gone by the time the show was over. Freddy’s verve for life was more infectious.
Remembering moments like these at the wake became all the more painful and shocking when anyone approached the coffin. Freddy was in an open casket, looking the same as he did when he was alive. He was not burned like everyone expected for someone who died in a raging fire. When found among the victims his wristwatch was cracked, the time stopped at 11:13 p.m., but his body was almost perfectly intact. Freddy was one of four victims of the nightclub tragedy who would have open casket services.
The next day came Freddy’s funeral, and the line of mourners wrapped around the block waiting to get in for the service. Five condolence books were filled with remembrances and signatures.
The older Rene sat through the full Roman Catholic mass and remained overcome with grief and rage. He seethed that Freddy had been stolen from him. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. He was supposed to die before his nephew. That was the natural order of things. Not this. When it came time for the family to drive to St. Ann Cemetery in Cranston for the service to bury Freddy at the family’s gravesite, Rene refused to attend. Something about going there and seeing that tombstone with Freddy’s name etched onto it represented a line that Rene simply could not cross. Seeing it would mean that Freddy was really gone forever. In Rene’s heart he needed to reject the idea that Freddy was no longer here. No, he would keep Freddy’s spirit alive.
That day he made a promise to himself to never see Freddy’s grave.
Rene also vowed to never go anywhere near the site of the nightclub.