She wasn’t there. I mean, of course she wasn’t. I sang at her funeral just over a year ago. I sat in the plastic padded chairs and watched my aunts, wearing pink and roses in her honor, hug and smile and drop tears down each other’s cheeks.
Of course she couldn’t come to my recital.
She loved costume jewelry and real jewelry and wearing makeup. The highest of compliments–every time I’d see her, she’d say, “You’re so beautiful!” and press her red lips to my cheek with a hearty “muah!”
I glittered onstage and sang Debussy, one of her favorites. In one breath, I held her close and let her go. That’s what love is, you know.