Lining up to be a pallbearer, I just can't help from getting mad again.
When L had phoned me at home to offer to help with the funeral in any way, I had passed this on to mom. She had naturally, invited him to speak and to be a pallbearer. At that point, adding L meant we had an odd number, so mom asked me to step in as well.
When the moment comes, I'm near the front end of the casket, so I just take hold of the front right handle- only to be interrupted by dad's youngest brother
"No. L goes first."
I let go and look at him.
Are you serious?
L steps in front of me and takes hold, and we all carry dad's casket into the back of the hearse.
Where I was in "the order" was the last thing in the world I would have thought about, and now it's the only thing I'm thinking about.
What a crock.
No comments:
Post a Comment