Page 79 of Every Almost

"It's beautiful," Charlie said.

"It was his wedding coat," Helen said.

Charlie spun around, questions sparking behind her eyes faster than her mouth could form them. Helen raised a hand.

"It's okay," she said. "I know he'd want you to wear it."

Charlie turned back to the mirror. "You're sure?"

"Very," Helen said. "In fact, take it back to California with you."

"No, Helen. This coat belongs here. With Frank's things." Charlie turned from the mirror. "With you."

Helen waved her hand. "Nonsense. I'll only be keeping a few things of his before donating the rest to the church donation center." She stepped closer to Charlie. "Hold on to this one for me. Wear it in California. Have adventures in it," she said with a raise of her eyebrows. Charlie smirked.

"It belongs with you, honey."

Charlie didn't know what to say. So she settled on "thank you."

Helen responded by pulling Charlie into a hug, pressing her cheek against the coat. They stood there, and Charlie could feel Helen breathing, slow and steady.

"Now," Helen said, pulling away and straightening up. "Let's get the show on the road! Otherwise, we're going to be late, and as Frank always said?—"

"'Early is on time and on time is late,'" Charlie finished.

"You bet your ass," Helen replied.

Charlie's eyes went wide. "Helen!"

"Oh, what's the harm? Someone has to keep his vocabulary active in this house," Helen said as she walked out of the room, a bemused Charlie following her.

The church was full.Shelbyville turned out the way small towns do when they lose someone who mattered. Two United States Navy servicemen in dress whites folded the American flag over Frank's casket and presented it to Helen, who accepted it with both hands and pressed it against her chest without a word.

Charlie and Katie sat in the first row with Helen between them. Ed and Diane were there. They sat two rows back, because this was Shelbyville and it was good form for everyone to go to funerals. Neither spoke to Charlie or Katie beyond a nod in the vestibule. The distance between the first row and the third was four feet and a thousand miles.

The pastor spoke about Frank's service, his character, his love for Helen, and his love for the girls. Neighbors spoke about his generosity, the way he'd wave from his driveway every morning, and always be ready with a cup of coffee for anyone who decided to drop in for a visit.

Once everyone had spoken, Charlie stood up. Helen had asked her to speak on behalf of their little makeshift family. Charlie had immediately agreed, stating she would be honored.

She walked to the front of the church, her hands steady and Frank's aquamarine coat warm on her shoulders. She placed her hands on the edges of the lectern, looked out at the room full of people who had loved Frank Beckman, and spoke.

"Frank once told me that coffee was the only thing that kept him going every day. It kept him going when he served aboard the original USS Enterprise," Charlie took a pause here to drop her voice an octave. "The CV-6 mind you, not the new-fangled thing they have out on the seas now," she said with slight disgust, causing laughter to echo through the church. "It kepthim going every morning before going to work once he returned from the war and set up house and home with his incredible wife, Helen." Charlie took a beat to look over at Helen, who she could see already had tears in her eyes. "And it kept him going once my younger sister, Katie, and I, spent every waking moment and weekend with him and Helen at their home. Between keeping up with two girls and twenty battle stars, I don't blame him. Though why he needed coffee to keep him going aside the love of his life, I'll never understand." Charlie smiled. "Perhaps it was just his way of keeping himself going for her."

"But that sentiment has stuck with me since the day Frank told me while his head was under his car's hood, his arms elbow-deep in the engine, 'fixing.' Frank did so much more for people around him than coffee could ever fuel. Because the truth is, it never reallywasthe coffee. Frank ran on something else entirely. People. He ran on showing up for them, on loving them whether they asked for it or not. And it not only fueledhim, but provided for our community in ways only Frank Beckman could provide."

"Frank lived life every day as if it were the best day of his life. And it was contagious." Charlie looked over at Katie then. "My sister and I have never forgotten a day we spent with Frank, whether it was up in the sky in his Cub, seated next to him and Helen in a movie theater at the premiere ofStar Wars, or sitting at their kitchen table after one of Helen's incredible meals, laughing until our sides hurt with our bellies full and our hearts equally so."

"Frank told me he used coffee to get through his days. But if you ever had a chance to observe him as a human being, you could see that so much more went into him as a man, a husband, and a caregiver." It was here that Charlie took a second beforecontinuing, as the weight of her own words began to catch up with her. But she pulled it together.

For Frank.

"Frank always showed up. For family and friends, but also just as readily for a stranger when someone needed a hand. He didn't distinguish much between a stranger and someone he'd known his whole life. If you were in front of him with a task at hand or a need, that was enough. He was sincere, generous, and always gave without calculation and without condition." It was here that Charlie had to hold back the tears. "And that included me and my little sister."

"There are people who enter your life and leave fingerprints on everything that follows. They leave them on the way you think, on the way you treat others, on the way you understand the world around you and your place in it. Frank was that for me. And it will live within me for the rest of my life. I can only hope that I will give back even the slightest bit of good that Frank did for me." Charlie looked towards her parents for the first time since she'd started speaking. Ed was staring at the stained glass windows, more interested in their shapes and patterns than her words. Diane was staring at her clasped hands in her lap, her face hidden by the drape of the lace over her hat. And what struck Charlie wasn't the absence of their attention, but the obvious and blatant disrespect for the man who had loved their daughters better than they ever had.

Charlie took a deep breath, looked down at the lectern, then back up.

"I will miss Frank with a depth I am still discovering," she started. "But with that, I will make sure to honor him in all the ways possible by using how much I miss him asfuelto do great things. I will carry him always, and try to wake up every day the way he woke up."