One minute you're at the top of your game, and the next, you receive a hit that knocks your skates out from underneath you.
Still reeling after an unexpected loss, Ryan Nyberg not only finds himself back in his beachside hometown of Neptune Bay, bu...
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The last funeral I'd been to had been my mother's.
Just over a year ago, on a Tuesday near the middle of May, it'd been a day like any other until I received a phone call from my dad with the news. My mom—the woman I'd looked up to and leaned on my entire life—had passed away after an unexpected heart attack. The doctors had said it was caused by a heart condition that'd gone undetected; had given both me and my dad stat after stat to explain how it all had been unlikely, but not impossible.
I hadn't been all that interested in listening, however. All I cared about was the fact that I'd seen her the previous night when I'd visited my parents' house for dinner and there'd be no signs pointing toward her impending death. She'd been smiling. Laughing. Living.
Then less than twenty-four hours later, she'd suddenly been gone.
And similar to today, the town of Neptune Bay had gathered on the sloped, grassy hillside two streets east of the marina to say goodbye.
I'd returned since then of course. Once a month I came to place a small bouquet of flowers in front of her gravestone. To let my words run rampant as I updated her on my life. It was therapeutic, and in the beginning, helped to lessen the grief that had burrowed itself in my chest. Now it simply gave me an outlet to miss her. Because there was no hoping or wishing that would bring her back, and I'd accepted that, but I didn't know if I'd ever fully let go of the speck of sadness that accompanied my memories of her.
Standing no more than a handful of feet away from her resting place, I had to hold back the tears that threatened to fall and control my breathing.
In. Out. In. Out.
It took a few moments, but when I finally zoned back into the event at hand, I heard the tail end of the eulogy Liam's brother, Ryan, was delivering.
"...so much I wish you could've lived to experience. I wish you were here to cheer me on next season. I wish you were here to make our family whole again. And most of all, I wish you could've been here to watch Bowen grow up. See him graduate, fall in love, and have kids of his own someday."
I saw his tear-lined eyes fall to his nephew—who stood with his hand wrapped tightly in his grandma's in the front row—and noticed how he paused and swallowed hard, trying to keep his emotions in check.
"He's going to remember how great you both were—how much he was truly loved by his parents—because nobody is going to let him grow up knowing anything different. And when those big events happen in his life, I hope you'll both be watching, hand-in-hand from your front row seat in the sky."
He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, the words "I love and miss you" quietly drifting through the air before he moved to stand beside his family.
Lifting my hand to my face, I used my index finger to dab at the tears that threatened to escape, not unlike those surrounding me. Because despite the clear, blue sky and calming ocean breeze, nothing could lighten the somber mood that hung over the crowd of people here today—neighbours, friends, and family all gathered in a cemetery to say goodbye to Liam and Thea Nyberg.
