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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1907171-The-Funeral-Home-3
Rated: E · Short Story · Women's · #1907171
Grief recalls the morning Katy arrived at the funeral home to arrange her son's cremation.
To read from the beginning:
 The Collapse (1)  (E)
A mother's grief begins.
#1906964 by MrsDesjardins2012



The Funeral Home


As she curled up into the corner of the cold leather couch, Grief emerged from the kitchen with a cup of hot Earl Grey tea in each hand. Reaching out toward him, she grasped the cool handle of the cup he extended toward her. Katy placed her bottom lip against the rim and gently breathed into the tea, the steam warming her chilly nose. Grief smiled as he observed her ingenuity.

He placed his tea down on the walnut coffee table in front of her, picked up the soft maroon prayer shawl from the arm of the couch and unfolded it. Taking one corner in each hand, he stood behind her and wrapped his arms and the shawl over her shoulders, kissed the top of her head and then sat next to her.  They sipped tea in the quiet light that peeked through the wood-shuttered windows. 

Behind them was the white marble mantle on which her son’s ashes rested. Her husband, Alain, had picked out Bennett's urn, baby blue with a silver teddy bear engraved on the front. It had been two weeks now, but Grief remembered that morning so vividly.

September 23rd. After packing the paperwork, her son's pitch black hair clippings, tiny black ink footprints, and the handmade quilt that her son had rested in, Katy and Alain left their Labor and Delivery room. As they walked, she evaluated every woman they passed: pregnant, pregnant, pregnant, nursing, pregnant, pregnant, nursing, giving birth, pregnant, rocking her newborn. Katy's suffering at that moment was tangible as she witnessed her past state and her crushed dreams in that hall as she left without Bennett. 

Outside, she held herself together as she put the address for the funeral home into their car's GPS. 660 Brighton Avenue, Portland. As Alain followed the directions, Grief noted Katy's frequent deep breaths, in her nose and out of her mouth. This had been a regular occurance for the past two weeks, calming breaths as she had tried to stay hopeful.

Katy's tired eyes flickered back and forth from left to right as she watched the city intently. Everyone was carrying on around her as if nothing had happened, smiling, laughing and oblivious to her struggles. This was the moment Katy realized, the world hadn’t stopped. He watched her eyes close as she began silently weeping in the passenger seat. This was too much to bear, Grief thought holding his right hand over his heart and closing his eyes in solidarity.

“You have arrived, A.T. Hutchins Funeral Home,” the GPS proclaimed. She took a deep breath in and opened her eyes. The parking lot was empty, there was no one in sight, and suddenly she felt safe. Like she had pressed the pause button and the world stopped. Grief opened her door and placed his hand in hers as she left the vehicle. He studied her as she exhaled.

On her weary face, he saw the heartache of arranging her son’s cremation less than two days after giving birth to him. Unexpectedly though, Grief also saw overwhelming relief that while she was inside this funeral home, the world was paused.
© Copyright 2012 MrsDesjardins2012 (kdesjardins at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1907171-The-Funeral-Home-3