“Her smile, that’s what her Ma and I most want to remember, her wonderful, glorious smile,” Mr. Sandy was speaking directly to Janes, the Funeral Director and didn’t even see me in the corner.
I couldn’t help but see him, though. A small ashen man, he was practically crumpled into himself, barely able to stand and blankly staring upon his child. His very dead daughter was in a heap, like yesterday’s laundry atop a gurney brought by the morgue to our small mortuary and funeral home. Even from the corner, I could see she was beautiful. Like a perfect rose, preserved in death with a haunting glow, his young twenty year old daughter radiated grace and a quiet calm in death. True, I felt that way about many I’d seen, but this one appeared special...
thx for the nod al!
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