Hanging on the telephone

Darren creaked down the stairs. The murmur of his wife’s voice on the phone to his mother soothed his steps. She said, “Yes, we’ll be there in under twelve hours Sherry.” He saw her at the bottom, pacing just outside the kitchen.

He thought, “Tie, suit, wingtips, dress shirt, black socks.”

She said, “I’m touched. Of course he’ll deliver the eulogy.”

“What? I’ll do what?”

When he spoke, she looked up and put her finger to her lips. She walked back into the kitchen, away from him.

“How can I give a eulogy for someone who should still be alive?”

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This week, Velvet Verbosity challenged us with ‘murmur’

About jesterqueen:
Jessie Powell is the Jester Queen. She likes to tell you about her dog, her kids, her fiction, and her blog, but not necessarily in that order.

Comments

Hanging on the telephone — 15 Comments

    • And you can’t expect it, even though we should. So it’s always a slap. Even if it’s prepared for and expected, there’s still a sense of disbelief when it’s over.

  1. Ouch. That kind of loss is so difficult to process. I like the detail about the packing — it reminded me of the kind of scattered thinking I did when my grandfather died.

  2. That hit me like a ton of bricks. I remember my sister-in-law asking if I was going to speak at my mother’s funeral service. I had different reasons for thinking it was an awful question. I’m kind of mad at the wife here for not asking him before saying for sure he would do it. I hate the unfairness of that kind of presumption. I guess he can’t really say no, but give him the respect of asking.

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