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me, guided me, annoyed me, yelled at me, pushed me, led me in so many ways. But that night she stood in my arms as we danced and stared at me with hopeful eyes, adding, “I think you are the most stylish person I’ve ever known.” During the years of her illness, for better or for worse, she relied on me for support, and I gave it as much as I could. But it was never enough. With an illness like hers, nothing could ever be enough.
For the party in November, my brother-in-law planned a beautiful Italian lunch. There were speeches by her sons. Impromptu stories. Mary told all of us how much she loved us, how much family meant to her, how she dreamed someday of Nerz Road, a place where we would all live together, just houses apart. We were hushed as she spoke what felt like a final statement.
Back at the house, we made her wish come true. An Ama- zon strobe light transformed her living room into a Victo- rian disco. Spotify chugged out the Mary’s Party playlist full of seventies power tunes. Queen’s “We are the Champi- ons” felt glorious as my siblings and nephews and in-laws
and I stood with Mary and sang with Freddy and raged against cancer, holding our arms up in the air, sway- ing together. My husband and I have our own karaoke setup so everyone was playing with it, screaming lyrics to all our favorites. Mary’s son, Joe, sang “Party in the USA” by Miley Cyrus.
Mary got tired and put on her cozy pink robe; so did my five-year-old son, Pedro. They cuddled on the couch, snapped into a picture. For months afterwards, Pedro said it was the best party ever.
In 30 years of this cancer thing, never seeming to know what to say or do, this one was good, and some- how, finally, everyone said the right things.
Iribarne is a wife, mother, teacher, and lifelong writer of journals, poetry, fiction, creative nonfiction, memoir, and essays. She practices her craft on the third-floor attic of her home in Syracuse, New York. Her short story, “Sick, but Sociable” will appear this fall in Malarkey Books’ anthology, What I thought of Ain’t Funny.