She Was Fading
Casket.
It’s a small ceremony with only her family, us, and some nurses and doctors who knew her. Tara cries and her husband holds her. Michael tries to hold it in but his eyes are red and his face is wet. The minister is old and reads out of the bible.
Her casket is small and made of red oak. There are lilies on top of it. I slip in a paper crane I made for her.
There is no after-gathering. We don’t talk about her life and how it has changed us. It is inside of our hearts and beyond what words can express.
Everyone wears the awful color of black. I do too; black dress shirt, black pants, black jacket, black shoes, and black belt. But my tie is turquoise and I know Caroline is smiling wherever she is.
Her casket is small and made of red oak. There are lilies on top of it. I slip in a paper crane I made for her.
There is no after-gathering. We don’t talk about her life and how it has changed us. It is inside of our hearts and beyond what words can express.
Everyone wears the awful color of black. I do too; black dress shirt, black pants, black jacket, black shoes, and black belt. But my tie is turquoise and I know Caroline is smiling wherever she is.