Chapter 2
I didn't waste any time.
First on my to-do list was a funeral portrait.
Forget those bland black-and-white headshots—way too basic. I wanted something in full color.
I was determined to flash the brightest smile, showing off just how upbeat and full of spirit Lily really was.
I even made sure to wash my hair, though there was hardly any left after the chemotherapy. But the sense of ritual couldn't be overlooked.
When I walked into the photo studio, the photographer glanced at my bald head and pale complexion, hesitating before asking.
"Are you really sure you want this kind of photo?"
"Absolutely." I shot back.
I ran my hand over my smooth scalp in front of the mirror and flashed a grin. "Just making a memory with this new look."
The photographer, an older guy, watched as I forced my smile. His eyes were full of complicated emotions as he finally took the shot.
When it was time to pick out the photos, he asked, a little uncertain,
"What are these photos for?"
"Oh, they're for my memorial service," I said, the way someone might talk about choosing dinner.
The man's hand visibly trembled. He looked at the screen showing a photo of me with my bald head and a bright smile; his lips moved, but he only managed to whisper quietly.
"Looks good. Really, you look beautiful," the photographer said, a little hesitant but genuine.
"Thanks. I think so too."
I took his compliment in stride and jumped right into my next request.
"Hey, could you work your magic in editing? Make me look a bit healthier, and for the background. Can you go with a starry night vibe? Something dark but hopeful, real dreamy."
"Alright," he said, still a bit unsure.
I was pretty sure this was the kind of photo shoot that would stick with him for the rest of his career.
Once I had my gorgeous funeral portrait in the bag, I wasted no time and reached out to an event planning company.
When the planner on the other end heard I wanted to throw my own pre-death memorial, her jaw nearly hit the floor.
I was practically buzzing with excitement as I laid out my vision.
"It's gotta be outside," I told her, practically bouncing.
"I want a spot with grass, trees, and maybe a pond or something, great views, super photogenic.
"The theme's a farewell, but it should feel fun and relaxed, like a warm reunion with old friends.
"And I need a welcome wall so people can write out their wishes for me.
"Plus, there's gotta be food, loads of snacks, desserts, and drinks.
"And oh, for the music, nothing too gloomy. Some cheerful folk or a little jazz would do the trick.
"But the highlight of the party? Story time. Everyone's got to tell the funniest, most embarrassing story they've got about me."
The planner carefully took notes, clearly a little uneasy.
Every so often, she'd peek up at me, her gaze packed with sympathy, and was that a touch of respect in there too.
"Ms. Summers, you're honestly so brave," she said at last.
I laughed.
"Well, if I'm just sitting around anyway, I might as well make things a little more interesting."
When she tentatively asked about the budget, I just waved it off.
"Just make it the best. Money can't come with you when you go. If I'm not spending it now, when am I ever going to?"
Her eyes got teary in an instant.
I jumped in, trying to lighten the mood.
"Hold up. I'm not even crying. Seriously, cheer up. This is a party, not a funeral."
In the end, the company decided to give me a huge discount, almost just charging me at cost.
As I was leaving, the planner still had red eyes when she asked me if I needed help designing the digital invitation.
There really were more kind souls in the world than I'd think.