A Final Surprise
It had been eight days since Kimberly’s mother died. It happened on a Wednesday; the funeral reception was held on Friday, and attracted a decent turnout. Kim didn’t remember much other than the fact that it had been a sunny day, which had somehow made it hard for her to cry. The harsh light only seemed to illuminate everything that needed to be done: greet the family, check that the charcuterie board hadn’t grown too tepid, comfort the occasional weepy relative, on and on until the moon had risen in the sky and the last of the lingerers finally slipped languidly into their cars. Only once the excitement had died and she was alone with her husband did she allow herself a moment to grieve. She’d been plagued by bad sleep since that awful day, and she could feel exhaustion setting in.
