My sister’s casket was closed. Elaine hadn’t been wearing a seatbelt. Supposedly there hadn’t been much left for the embalmer to work with. Instead, a collection of photographs had been arranged on a small table next to it. I wasn’t in any of them. I could hear mother sniffling as she attempted to maintain her composure. It took me a while to finally register the mood I was feeling. I was disappointed, disappointed that there wasn’t a third casket.
We’d been home from the funeral for over an hour, and I was still laying on my bed waiting for mother to come in and change the diaper I’d worn for the entirety of the funeral service and burial.