Goodbye by Coincidence

So glad to have a day off, I sat down Friday to read the newspaper. I thumbed through the current events, comics, and sports. As I shook the paper to fold it, something caught my eye.

Elizabeth Marie Campbell
May 6, 1935- February 21, 2007

My body was numb as I read the obituary that condensed the life of a woman I once knew. She was immortalized in time with a picture of her smiling; her blue eyes shone. I remembered that picture hanging in the hallway; she told me once she was twenty in it.

The obituary stated the funeral would be the following day. I knew that I had to be there to pay my respects but the thought swam over me, drowning me in trepidation. I hated funerals. I hated anywhere that death thrived. I went to the kitchen and got my old orange scissors from the junk drawer. I carefully cut the obituary out and stuck it in my scrapbook.

The cemetery was bare that Saturday morning with only a few cars lining the graveled path. I stood in the back under my aged green umbrella listening to the rain pelt down on the small canopy, ignoring my tears.

“If there’s anyone who would like to say a few words…” the minister said.
I remained grounded knowing that I should probably step forward. But it had been so long since I had seen Elizabeth that I wouldn’t even know what to say. No one else came forward either. I stood by the tree long after the service concluded. I waited until the only ones left were the gravediggers and then walked up to the casket; it lay on the cables waiting for its final resting place.

I placed a single rose on the coffin. “Goodbye, Mother.”

**300 words**