We buried my mother at noon… and before they lowered the casket, someone whispered behind me: “If you want to stay alive, don’t let your father close the grave.” The worst part wasn’t that threat, but seeing my sister smile while four men carried a box heavier than the body of my own mother.
Not because she came out of a box. Because I recognized it. Even though it was broken. Even though it sounded muffled. Even though fear had unraveled it. I recognized it. It was my mother’s voice. For a second, the entire cemetery vanished. The priest. The gun. Adrienne with her distorted face. My father standing…
