Chapter 26 - BIANCA’S FUNERAL
Bianca died at eighty-three.
Pneumonia after a long decline.
No mystery.
No scandal.
Her funeral was elegant because she would have demanded that even from the grave.
Pearls.
White roses.
Coletti family.
Montesis.
Faye came.
Serena came.
Bastian stood with Miles and Helena.
Complicated.
At visitation, Serena touched the edge of the coffin.
Not because reconciliation was complete.
Because death ends future conversation, not past truth.
Then Faye stood beside her.
For a moment the two women who once faced each other across my family table stood shoulder to shoulder.
No chair between them.
Faye said:
“She scared me.”
Serena answered:
“Me too.”
Then they laughed softly.
Human.
Bastian delivered eulogy.
He did not sanitize.
“My mother loved family and often confused love with authority. She taught me loyalty. She also taught me habits I had to unlearn.”
Good.
Then:
“She believed my son’s sex could repair my position. It could not. Miles was born a child, not a solution.”
Miles looked down.
Then:
“She eventually understood that.”
No saint.
No monster only.
Then Serena spoke briefly.
“I spent years deciding whether forgiveness required trust. It doesn’t. I forgave some. I trusted differently. That was enough.”
Powerful.
Then burial.
No inheritance spectacle.
Bianca’s estate went mostly to Bastian and other Coletti descendants, charities, and some personal gifts.
Helena received jewelry.
Miles received grandfather’s watch.
Serena received one object.
The pearl bracelet Bianca wore the night she shoved her.
Serena stared when executor showed it.
Why leave that?
A note:
I wore this when I treated you as less than you were. Keep it, sell it, throw it away. I have no right to decide what it means.
Serena sold it.
Proceeds to a maternal shelter? Could be symbolic but choice. She used proceeds to fund a scholarship for pregnant architecture students? Hmm. She could simply add to normal investment or donate. To avoid forced symbolism, she sold and used money to renovate her kitchen. That is refreshingly ordinary.
She laughed when telling me.
“Bianca paid for countertops.”
Excellent.
Then Miles got the old Coletti family signet ring.
He did not wear.
Kept in drawer.
No obligation.
Then Helena asked:
“Do we have to do this whole funeral hierarchy when you die?”
“No.”
“Can we have sandwiches?”
“Good sandwiches.”
“Done.”
Then Bastian said:
“Your grandfather will haunt you over catering.”
Probably.
Then we left.
Bianca’s life ended without one final secret document overturning everything.
No unknown heir.
No hidden child.
No trust reversal.
She had been exactly what we already knew:
A woman shaped by hierarchy who eventually understood some of the harm she caused.
May you like
That was enough complexity for one life.
And the family survived her death without needing anyone to replace her.
