“What happened in the mine was a tragedy. I’d give anything to go back to that day and keep them all home. But I can’t.
“Even though he didn’t admit it and maybe he didn’t even realize it, but Cord McCurry loved more purely than anyone. His love didn’t come with strings. There were no contingencies with his friendship. If he liked you, that was it. I think we can all learn something from that.”
I stand tall, clear my throat, and feel a sudden burst of clarity. “Cord’s life was cut unfairly short and I refuse for it to be in vain. His death will not be something we cry about today and go to work tomorrow and forget. I won’t allow that.”
“Cord gave his life for my husband and brother. His bravery, his selflessness is unparalleled. I challenge each of you to live your life the same way.”
Adjusting the microphone again, I find Becca. She’s watching me with rapt attention, her eyes swollen from crying.
“One of Cord’s most annoying traits was that he was always right. It didn’t matter if it was about Jiggs’ truck or my marriage, he had an uncanny way of knowing what the right answer was.” I glance at my brother. “Sorry, Jiggs.”
The crowd chuckles again.
“His little snippets of guidance taught me many things, but the most important were about relationships. That sometimes you have to take a step back and breathe. That you can’t make insane decisions when your head is a mess. That even when you can’t walk in someone else’s shoes, you do have to try them on.”
Glancing at the casket again, I smile. “It’s not just the words we speak in a moment, but the weight of words over the course of time that matters. The words you choose every day add up. You are the words you speak, whether that’s constructive or destructive. Cord was a light. His legacy, the heft of the words and actions he left behind, are proof.”
“We need to live like Cord,” I implore. “We need to treat the people in our lives, whether it’s our spouse, parents, or friends, with care. Give them the benefit of the doubt. Lend an ear. Be sensitive to the trials they might be going through that we can’t see.”
“We can let our friend live through us in the way we treat one another in the good times and in the bad. Relationships can get messy. My own marriage was in shambles not too long ago.” I look at Ty as his face tightens. “It was Cord that reminded me to fight for what I wanted, even when I was scared. To live and love bravely. It takes courage to love. But to have someone to love and to love you back is worth every bump in the road.”
I smile at my husband and watch his features soften. “Life isn’t easy. Love isn’t for the faint of heart. You have to just put your fears aside and go for it. I learned that from Cord, the man that thought he couldn’t love,” I laugh. “Cord never quit on the people he loved, even when things got hard. Even when he was deep in the Earth. Even when he knew the end.”
Leaving the podium, I walk across the burgundy carpet and peer into the casket. My hand rests on his as I give Cord one final smile. “We love you. So much.”
I look back to the crowd. “You are all here to pay your respects to one amazing man. Don’t let it stop when you walk out the door. Love fully, even when it gets hard. Give forgiveness, even when you aren’t sure the other guy deserves it. And in every friendship you’re in, don’t forget to actually be friends.”
I gaze across the sea of faces until my gaze lands on Tyler Whitt. He smiles the same smile he gave me the morning he asked me for a piece of gum so many years ago.
As I start to take my seat and a hymn begins to play, a peace settles over my soul. Ty takes one of my hands and Jiggs takes the other. I squeeze them both, the warmth in their palms comforting me.
Six months later . . .
ELIN
“Are you sure I’m not too heavy?” I start to lean off Ty’s lap, but he pulls me down again against his Arrows’ shirt.
“Will you stop it? You aren’t too heavy.”
“I’m huge,” I say, rubbing my swollen belly. “This baby is going to be ten pounds. I know it.”
“You’ll be the prettiest ten-pound-baby-carrier I’ve ever seen,” he teases, rubbing my nose with his.
I settle against him as we sit in a loveseat in the nursery. The sun streams through the windows, the tree outside casting shadows on the golden walls.
Baseball decorations adorn the walls and crib, and sure enough, a signed picture of Lincoln Landry on the closet door.
It’s the perfect room for little Cord, even if it is a little cheesy. But Ty’s gusto to decorate and his enthusiasm for his vision—how could I say no?
We rock gently back and forth, feeling the late afternoon sun on our skin.
“Did you get your homework done?” I ask him.
“Yes, Mother,” he mocks, kissing me on the shoulder. “I’ll be glad when my homework is done and I’m giving it out instead.”