The Logistics of Sympathy
A bottle of water’s probably a good idea.
Wear something dark and demure…what did I wear last time? Can’t find it right now, but this will do.
Get the smaller purse, got my wallet, the GPS, the address. I already mailed my letter. Is there anything else? I guess not.
Too early to leave right now, can’t get there too early. What am I going to do there? I don’t know anyone really. What should I do? My stomach aches…maybe I’ll hit the bathroom, I could put these dishes away…
I sat down on the couch in the dark light of the morning, staring at my living room, the tv off, thinking about her. Thinking about her daughter. Thinking about me. Tears started to sting my eyes. Was I just being selfish? No, the tears were for her. But they were also for me, in fear. It could happen to me too. I could be her.
I looked at the clock. Time to go. I got in my car, the same way I had done every day, not expecting today to be going back the same path so soon. I drove, silently and slowly, keeping my car at the speed limit, but with purpose. An hour and fifteen minutes later, I arrived. Someone directed me where to park. I slowly put away my GPS. Sat in the car a few minutes, still feeling I was too early. I finally took a deep breath, stepped outside and walked up the steps of the funeral home.