never the same
I watched her tiny tummy sucking in, her skin pulling tight against her ribs, her hand involuntarily closing on my index finger as she struggled for every breath, and I thought, "One day, is one day too much to ask?"
I watched her tiny tummy sucking in, her skin pulling tight against her ribs, her hand involuntarily closing on my index finger as she struggled for every breath, and I thought, "One day, is one day too much to ask?"
When you said I wasn't allowed to say anything at the funeral because it would be "improper," I knew I hated you.
As I pass the full parking lot at the funeral home on my daily commute, I am reminded that no matter how stressful I think my day has been, at least I am not on my way to a funeral.
When I was 5 or so my mom would tell me to lie down before she tied my tie and I just now realized at the age of 19 that she did this because she's a funeral director.
I wrote "thank you" notes to everyone who had attended the funeral as if it had been a baby shower.
The sight of my usually stoic mother weeping on the lid of her brother's casket is one I wish I could have gone a lifetime without seeing.
About the dumbest thing you can say about an embalmed body at a funeral is that they "look good," but that is what everyone kept saying.
Midway through my father's funeral, I realized that almost everyone at the service probably thought my best friend--whose hand I was clinging to--was my lesbian lover.
I was a row behind her at his wake, two at his funeral, and across the table at the dinner but I never told her I slept with him while they were dating.
Later, I would realize that I cried harder when my dog died than I did at Mom's funeral.
It wasn't until the eulogy ended that I realized I had been thinking about porn instead of listening.