At my mother’s funeral, the groundskeeper quietly pulled me aside and murmured, “Miss, your mother paid me to lower an empty coffin into the ground.” I thought he was joking
I thought he was joking. A sick joke, maybe, but still a joke. Behind us, the polished mahogany casket hung above the grave, surrounded by white lilies and people dressed in their finest versions of sorrow. My relatives stood nearby like actors hitting their marks. My uncle Harold, my cousin Sophie, and my stepbrother Marcus all wore expressions that … Read more